“Grandma had many pins, necklaces, and earrings, but none held a candle to the oh-so-fascinating pearl drop earrings. They consisted of a pearl on each side of an extremely delicate chain. Each pearl could screw off the small post it was attached to so that the post could be put into the ear and the pearl could be screwed back on. Then, the earring was pulled so the pearls dropped from the chain from either side of her ear lobe. These earrings both fascinated me and grossed me out just a little. I loved them, in a horrified way. My Grandma would always chuckle when I told her that and said “They don’t hurt at all, honey, see?” And then she’d pull them just a little and chuckle at my shivers.”
“Grandma’s home backed up to a large pumpkin field when I was young, and that pumpkin field extended all the way to the main road in our city, State Street. Once a year, on Memorial Day, we were allowed to open the back gate and haul large buckets full of Iris and Peonies out to the road front and sell bundles of flowers to those heading to honor their loved ones. The rest of the year, the gate stayed firmly shut, and nearly hidden from view by the enthusiastic Virginia Creeper vines that grew all along its’ face. The vines were our weather vane in a way, telling us what season it was. When they were mostly grey sticks, it was winter of course. We knew spring was coming by the bright green leaves finally showing. Our view of the pumpkin patch was entirely obscured when summer was at its’ peak, and fall brought the leaves to a delicious blazing red. Grandma kept those vines “to hide the road” she said, and later when a strip mall went in behind her house, they were even more welcome.”
“My grandma called me “honey”. Whenever I came to her house–which was often, she lived just a mile or two away–she would pat the seat next to her on the couch and say “Com’mere honey.” Then she’d take one of my hands in both of hers and squeeze it, and ask how my day was. Ask about school. Friends. Boys. Anything and everything. She would push on the tops of my fingers to feel if I had any fingernails growing at all–I was a voracious nail-biter–and congratulate me if there was the slightest growth. She’d say “Oooohhh these are going to be so pretty! Just you let them grow!” And then she’d pat my hand and change the subject. As a grown woman, I still feel the tops of my fingernails and feel proud of myself.
Sweet Marion fabric ships February 2017. I’d love to compile a list of shops carrying it, so I can refer inquiries. Would you let me know if you’ve ordered it?
“I am so excited for these low volume fabrics! (Look forward to bundles with low volumes from several of my lines in my shop in the spring! and also if you’re on Instagram Head on over to see the fun $300 gift card up for grabs! I’m @amrosenthal over there.)
My grandma Marion was soft spoken and gentle, painfully shy. She was born with a cleft lip and palate and had many many surgeries as a child, causing her to be very self-conscious. She never wanted to be the center of attention and hated having her picture taken. Her quiet ways fostered a calmness in her home, and a gentle and accepting way with other people, no matter their differences or status. She was truly kind to everyone, perhaps especially because of other children’s unkindness when she was little.
Sweet Marion can be ordered now from your Moda Fabrics United Notionssales rep, ships February 2017″
“My Grandma Marion was born in 1926 in small town in Utah. Her mama was a wonderful cook who ran a boarding house for farmhands and made 3 massive meals a day for dozens of hungry men. She was known for her amazing pies. Marion’s daddy had been a vibrant entertainer as a young man but was quiet in his older years. He was often found on the back porch surrounded by wild animals. Grandma grew up as an only child and often reminded me how lucky I was to have 4 siblings, because I would never know loneliness.
Sweet Marion ships February 2017–ask your favorite shop to order it now.”