Monday, March 8, 2010
I think that's how a lot of these National Craft Month blog posts will start. My memories. As accurate as they can be. Which is really only as accurate as my mind has made them. Some of them are recent, some are older, and some are from my childhood, remembered by that part of my brain that houses childhood memories… that makes them more precious.
And here I find myself back to my opening statement… I remember.
I remember my Grandma K. She was sweet. Lovely. She wrote poetry. She grew up on a farm. My grandpa loved her very much and referred to her as the "Queen Of Them All". She signed some of her things QOTA. She loved gardening, especially her roses. She had a fountain in her garden and while I can picture it, I can't begin to say anything about it other than it was stone. There was a big swing, I think it was red. I remember swinging on it with my grandma. I remember doing bunny ears, sticking out my tongue and kick-lines for the 8mm video camera with her and my aunts. I remember she loved Olga the Walrus that lived at Brookfield Zoo; Grandma had a picture of Olga stuck to a cupboard in her kitchen.
But what I remember most of all, was coloring with my grandma. After we finished our meal and after we had cleaned up the dishes and washed off the table, it was time! I knew what drawer held the white typewriter paper and where to find the little tupperware (I think it was yellow?) that help those treasured colors. I would get them and sit at the table with Grandma all set to draw…
In my mind, we always drew the same thing… I'm sure there were times we didn't, but I always remember starting with an apple tree; a good strong brown barked tree with big loopy green 'leaves' and bright red apples all over it. Then there was grass… there should always be a lot of green grass under your tree. It's more comfortable for when you nap underneath. The sun was next. A big yellow circle with yellow rays that came streaming out of it. We liked sunny days best =o) Sometimes there were birds in the sky! One of us would be climbing a ladder and there would be a basket under the tree to catch the apples that we picked. On another limb, there was an occasional tire swing and sometimes in the background there was a little garden or some little piggy's or cows. But the most important part, the thing that was always there, was the apple tree.
It may sound silly, but to this day if you see me with a plain white piece of paper and some crayons you can rest assured that I'm about to color myself climbing a ladder into an apple tree with a basket under it to catch all the ones I've picked.