Monday, September 3, 2012

A blanket of memories

Something was always cooking or baking in the kitchen giving the house a very homey smell. I was served sour cream with white sugar on top... Or new made pancakes with salted butter and cinnamon-sugar. It was a real treat. I remember sorting and reading the labels on the spice jars that were placed on a shelf above the kitchen bench; "Timjan, Koriander, Kummin, Anis, Vitpeppar, Salvia..." It could keep me entertained for a good while...

I remember that there were colorful soft pillows on the kitchen bench for comfort, as well as a padded mattress that sometimes slipped down. There was a cute home built walking ramp from the kitchen window to the flowerbed below, for the cat who came and rang the bell (he had his own little bell!!!) to get inside.

On the floor was a worn out rag rug lying like a walking patch through the kitchen from the entrance to the back room. I could often hear a snoring sound from the back room next to the kitchen. It was my step grandpa taking his daily nap. I was not allowed to go in there if he was sleeping. Sometimes I peaked in behind the heavy bottle green corduroy drapes, and saw him lying there flat on his back on a big puffy pillow. He had his feet sticking out underneath the crochet blanket, and he wore grey socks.

The room was dark with vivid wallpapers, shelves full of books and odd things. There was a big, and a little bit scary, gun collection decorating the wall. A small but sturdy dark brown desk with a big black phone, the kind you only see in old movies nowadays, was placed in front of the window. This was my step grandma Eivor's house. And the crochet blanket my step grandpa slept underneath was the one in the picture above.

Isn't she lovely? Isn't she beautiful? She is nothing I have made. I spotted her in my step father's mysterious barn... Around dusty furniture, spider webs, mice poops and with the streams of the sun seeking itself through the wooden walls in an old barn. She was lying there, just like that, thrown on the sofa in all her beauty. And suddenly all these memories came over me.

Eivor was a fantastic woman in many ways. Not so warm and cuddly but her home was an exciting place to be. She knitted, sew, embroidered and crocheted. Baked and cooked, went fishing and mushroom hunting. She was a very handy woman. Maybe some of you can still remember the story about my bed throw that she made for me a long time ago?

I adore the authentic colors in this granny blanket, very Scandinavian indeed. And it all comes together doesn't it? Talking about a handmade crochet pillow writing history even before it is being born. My crochet pillow in my last post. How much I treasure that pillow already and hope it will be treasured for a long long time.  Only life will tell but this crochet blanket for sure have some serious history behind it. I think I will have to rescue her from her destiny in the barn next time I am coming home.



  1. AHHH memories of grandma , I miss her so much , she left us this past March and I have a few treasures she knitted..

  2. Beautiful post, Annette.

  3. A beautiful story about your childhood and the blanket. I loved reading this post. What a precious quilt. Worth preserving for all the memories it holds for you and it's workmanship.

  4. Kul med en sån där gammal filt som bär gamla minnen med sig. :)

    ang. överkastet som du frågade om hos mig så är det precis samma sak där. Det är min farmor som virkat det. När jag fick det för massa, massa år sedan så tänkte jag inte så mycket på att hon hade gjort det själv, men nu när jag själv virkar så fattar jag plötsligt vilket herrans jobb som ligger bakom.

  5. I loved this post....such a delightful story, your memories are so evocative. And finding the actual blanket!! It is beautiful, I love the colours....such a treasure.
    Helen x


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