15/2012 {In detail}

When I was a child my grandparents lived a 90 minute drive away so the lovely older couple next door stepped in and filled that space day to day. Mrs R. was just the most wonderful person in my life and I am so grateful for the seventeen years of love and joy she willingly gave me. There were many times in my chaotic childhood, as the eldest of five children, that I would have happily moved in to live with her.

Because, in her house, I was an only child. She sat me front of her dressing table with its silver backed brushes, crystal perfume bottles and fluffy powder puffs and let me play to my hearts content. My love of photography came from the hours spent ‘reading’ her family stories in big black leather bound albums. I helped teach her budgie to cheer for our local football team. She showed me how to use the broom to sweep thoroughly in the corners. To make a great pot of tea and savour it with good conversation.  And, when soft plastic floral work was all the rage, she spent many hours patiently teaching me how to make clustered violet brooches and bunches of pale pink lilies backed with feathery plastic foliage. All the well dressed ladies in our street wore them on their coat lapels. Last weekend I opened a battered old box in the garage and found these woven strawberries and a scotch thistle amongst a clutter of tiny plastic petals and dusty leaves we had started together and never finished.

I wonder if she knew how much she influenced and inspired that little girl next door?

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~ by korechronicles on January 15, 2012.

6 Responses to “15/2012 {In detail}”

  1. I love these. I’ve never seen anything like them before. Not a craft I ever encountered *fascinated face*. And the story to go with them? Beautiful. What a splendid lady. I salute her.

  2. It’s beautiful.

    And I bet there aren’t many people any more that have the knack. It’s the way of the world….

    g

  3. They /look/ so delicious 🙂

  4. I am so utterly delighted that you are blogging again. So, so delighted. Because of posts like this.

  5. […] of it has gone to recycling or the bin. But, unexpectedly, there are small surprises. Like the tiny plastic strawberries I found in the first box I opened. And then this. It was so black with tarnish I could not determine […]

  6. […] of it has gone to recycling or the bin. But, unexpectedly, there are small surprises. Like the tiny plastic strawberries I found in the first box I opened. And then this. It was so black with tarnish I could not […]

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