I love anything to do with the “Olden Days” be it in regards to quilts, furniture, homes or history. This can involve my own olden days as a child or reach back much further in time but I am generally fascinated with all of it.
Whenever I am going to make a cake, if it is *just* going to be a sheet cake, then I reach for the old pan that was in my grandmother’s kitchen. She made many a cake in it and a favorite of mine was a streusal swirl breakfast cake, generally reserved for the weekends. Whenever I bring that pan out, I am in two places…my own kitchen, and my grandmother’s….swept back in time to being a young girl eying whatever cake her grandmother had made, that was cooling on the countertop:
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” The antique pressed-glass spoon holder that I keep on a small table in my kitchen today is the same one that always stood in the middle of our kitchen table in the farmhouse in southern Indiana where I spent my childhood. I use it daily to keep extra teaspoons handy for use when needed at the table or for any purpose in the kitchen, just as my mother did a generation ago, and her mother before her.
Also, the ‘Starburst Spooner’ is a sparkling reminder of Mother’s old-fashioned kitchen, with red geraniums and pink begonias blooming in its sunny windows and colorful rag rugs on the floor.
….many times I pick it up without any particular thought. But other times, unforeseen and unbidden, the old spooner becomes my crystal ball, as it were, my wellspring of memory, my Proustian madeleine.” __Marilyn Kluger in Country Kitchens Remembered
“Any table of virgin fir, any maple chair, any oak floor is a bundle of stories. At a lull in the conversation, move your napkin aside. There are centuries under one hand’s span…” __Kim R Stafford in Having Everything Right
” After a stroke felled my mother’s mother, some of her objects came to live in our house. Years later, my daughter digs out clean socks from a tall dresser, reddish oak, topped with a pivoting beveled mirror, that the bubbe once waxed and polished. She dresses her long hair, in play, with the bubbe’s rhinestone comb.
My two-year-old boy hides thimbles and dice in the drawer of the bubbe’s fruitwood cigarette table, a light thing he drags from room to room. We mash potatoes with her red-handled potatoe masher, while back in Detroit my mother chops liver with her mother’s chopper, half-moon wood handle fit to a half-moon blade. ” __Elizabeth Ehrlich in Miriam’s Kitchen
” I’ve had a heap of comfort all my life making quilts, and now in my old age I wouldn’t take a fortune for them. Sit down here, child, where you can see out of the window and smell the lilacs…
and we’ll look at them all. You see, some folks have albums to put folks’ pictures in to remember them by, and some folks have a book to write down the things that happen everyday so they won’t forget them, but honey, these quilts are my albums and my diaries…” __Eliza Calver Hall in A Quilter’s Window
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