Monday, January 4, 2010

craft is all around

At christmas at my Nan's this year, I tried to appreciate all the handmade things that have just always been there. The amazingly intricate cross stitch tablecloth that comes out on special occasions and which my Nan & Pa received for their engagement. The crochet rugs that were made by my great grandmother - that yellow, black and red one has been on that green sofa in the 'good room' (more commonly known as the 'big loungeroom') for as long as I can remember. There are photos of my brother as a baby on that sofa, with that rug draped over it.
My Nan lives in country Victoria, in the house her mother lived in before her. My uncle & aunty run the farm which my grandparents ran before them. This is just normal to me - but when you stop and think about it, it is significant.

Nan's house is big, and old. There are four bedrooms, three living rooms and two bathrooms. There are five doors to outside, but no-one uses the front door. Nan has two fridges and a chest freezer (the 'deep freeze') - they must cost her a fortune in electricity, but where would all the food go at christmas? Until about 5 years ago she still used a wringer washing machine. The garden isn't as green as it used to be, what with the drought and the water restrictions, but Nan carts buckets around to water her pot plants.

At christmas we had about 20 this year. When everyone is home there are 28 of us, but that's a rare event. There's always someone overseas, or having christmas with their partner's family.

One day things will be different, but for now, I can't imagine it any other way.

2 comments:

  1. I know! All this stuff it would take me years to make and my grandma probably whipped it up in a few days and left it on the couch for all the generations that follow to inherit. All I'll be leaving for posterity is a whole lot of hippie beanies!
    Happy new year!

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  2. Over the Christmas holidays we went to Phillip Island where there is a truckload of my family’s history. I was doing lots of early morning walking and couldn’t resist visits to the old haunts - my great grandmother’s house, where we spent every summer, particularly. It was quite confronting to look at my history, see all the familiarity and then realise I had no right to be there. Significant stuff indeedy...

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