It occurs to me that my strongest connection to the women in my family comes through the work of their hands and their love for working with their hands. I'm fortunate that love passed on to me.
My earliest memory of my grandmother Eva was her basket of fine crochet thread and the teeny tiny hook for the lace table cloth under construction. My grandmother Emma was a practical knitter and stitcher - at least until her hands became so arthritic she could no longer hold the pins. My aunts on both side of my family were inveterate sewers, knitters, crocheters, artisans always willing to try something new. Aunt Lil took up china painting after she had crochet layettes for all the new babies coming along. Aunt Helen made doll clothes for all her granddaughter's prize dolls when she wasn't sewing dresses for the girls. My mother used knitting, needlepoint and crochet as her chief artistic expression, when she wasn't painting walls and re-arranging the furniture. I think she would have made a fine interior designer had she had the opportunity.
I was musing about all of this, and the history of the cloth that passed along to me - stacks of doilies, table clothes, even tea towels all lovingly embroidered, resting in my linen closet. And then there are the pot holders, hot pads, napkin rings crochet in flower motifs, and coasters.
This is art - women's art - the art of decoration, but practical too. The Antimacassars crochet by my grandmother to decorate the arm chairs also kept the backs and arms of the chair clean and free of hair oils.
The hot pads and coasters kept the wood furniture free of marks and glass rings. The mittens and toques kept us all warm.
These things made the house into a warm home.
So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart for the love of handmade things and for teaching me the skills to make them. The things we make may have changed with the times, but the craft - the art of creating - remains and that is after all the main thing isn't it?
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