Nice post! We are complete do-it-yourselfers, but twice I’ve shelled out to have my windows cleaned. It was worth every penny. Made the entire house feel cleaner. I like that you can tell these forms are in the process of changing into something else. Because aren’t we? Changing into something else all the time?
Windows, it just mostly never gets done here, mostly too hard to reach. And I must admit, I hardly ever dust either.
History and love have a very strong relationship. I was thinking, if you love something, you simply keep at it no matter what. All this old cloth just gathers more time, evidence of a dedicated relationship.
You have stitched my grandma’s sturdy legs, beneath long, farmer’s wife pinnies.
Mum had lovely, but painful, varicose legs, after years of nursing.
Granddaughter has legs that go on for ever. She calls me Grandma Witch, for my ‘weird’ remedies! Just need some black pointy shoes – if only I hadn’t inherited my dad’s legs!
I have to wait until proper morning to listen to your voice. It’s a cool shower, too hot, wakeful, long night.
The grandma I knew had sturdy country legs; Mom had gorgeous Betty Grable legs. This great grandma, is just thankful to have legs that took her many miles thru life.
Both of my Grandmothers from Spain were long gone before I came into the world but I do have stories of them. Both were small women, under 5 ft 3″ and both were curanderas (Healers) in their villages. My paternal grandmother was a quiet, shy woman more at home in her garden than with people but was always ready to help those who were ill. She gave her love of the land and gardening to my Dad.. My Mom’s mother was a fun loving woman who loved nothing better than to dance in her home,, in the fields, lifting her long skirt up to her black stocking knees, twirling around, dancing to a Spanish Jota, a dance found in Northern Spain where she was born,, lifting her arms, gracefully high using her fingers to make music with her castanets.
My mother, a short woman with lovely legs that seemed so much longer than they were, loved to dance and dancing is in my blood, in my genes, a gift from my maternal grandmother and my mother. While my legs more closely resemble your cloth Grandma’s legs and I too am a short woman, still they serve me well in dancing.d. I dance to honor them, to celebrate life, to mourn life, when I am joyful, when I am sad, when I am angry and when I simply need to move about, connecting with spirit in my own way…
I am amazed at how this all flowed our from me, due to this very special blog post Jude. Thanks.
Loved your story about the legs. I hadn’t given much thought about my ancestors legs but now I’m intrigued to travel down memory lane, not on my long skinny legs but my easy chair and foot rest. Thanks for these provoking thoughts.
I find so much comfort in your voice .. the soft and gentleness of it. It definitely matches your stitched beings .. this one in particular. Love the legs!!!
I’ve been more aware of my legs because I’ve been wearing shorts in the last two days of heat. Yes, they are old legs, bruised, bumpy, lumpy. Like grandma’s which I remember being always in stockings. (Is that possible?) But still so very functional.
Yes, stockings, imagine that. My dad’s mom had thick aching legs, sometimes stockings rolled around her ankles…but my mom’s mom had beautiful legs even when she was in her 80s. The story goes my grandfather saw her walk by and said I am going to marry those legs. And he did. My mom had terrible varicose legs. But exercise kept her going. Me, baggy at this point but functioning.
I went from “sweat” to “sweatshirt” verrrry quickly….doesn’t take long to change here in Wi….love this post; the legs (oh god the legs), old material, twig, changing shapes, and yup, the sweet talking….❣️
I love this, Grandma’s Legs ( my first thot upon reading g the title, seeing chubby little legs w teeny “feet” — I thot of my grandma’s, great grandmas, oh yes! Dresses w chubby legs/teeny feet 😂) But listening, I love how we as women, as a furthering generation also becomes our grandma’s legs, steadying, yet moving thru, from where we were, to where we are going.
Such a nice metaphorical way to see how things continue, yet change.
Such joy here in Moondance
I hear the music!
🩷
This week I was thinking of our family tradition of female, “skinny ankles”! Quite dainty 😉
here, knobby knees
Nice post! We are complete do-it-yourselfers, but twice I’ve shelled out to have my windows cleaned. It was worth every penny. Made the entire house feel cleaner. I like that you can tell these forms are in the process of changing into something else. Because aren’t we? Changing into something else all the time?
and then sometimes we just need it more than ever…
It? Change?
Change
Been meaning to wash the windows forever. 🙂 I really do love fabric with history and connections…
Windows, it just mostly never gets done here, mostly too hard to reach. And I must admit, I hardly ever dust either.
History and love have a very strong relationship. I was thinking, if you love something, you simply keep at it no matter what. All this old cloth just gathers more time, evidence of a dedicated relationship.
You have stitched my grandma’s sturdy legs, beneath long, farmer’s wife pinnies.
Mum had lovely, but painful, varicose legs, after years of nursing.
Granddaughter has legs that go on for ever. She calls me Grandma Witch, for my ‘weird’ remedies! Just need some black pointy shoes – if only I hadn’t inherited my dad’s legs!
I have to wait until proper morning to listen to your voice. It’s a cool shower, too hot, wakeful, long night.
sturdy legs, I just love the sound of that.
The grandma I knew had sturdy country legs; Mom had gorgeous Betty Grable legs. This great grandma, is just thankful to have legs that took her many miles thru life.
Exactly!
Both of my Grandmothers from Spain were long gone before I came into the world but I do have stories of them. Both were small women, under 5 ft 3″ and both were curanderas (Healers) in their villages. My paternal grandmother was a quiet, shy woman more at home in her garden than with people but was always ready to help those who were ill. She gave her love of the land and gardening to my Dad.. My Mom’s mother was a fun loving woman who loved nothing better than to dance in her home,, in the fields, lifting her long skirt up to her black stocking knees, twirling around, dancing to a Spanish Jota, a dance found in Northern Spain where she was born,, lifting her arms, gracefully high using her fingers to make music with her castanets.
My mother, a short woman with lovely legs that seemed so much longer than they were, loved to dance and dancing is in my blood, in my genes, a gift from my maternal grandmother and my mother. While my legs more closely resemble your cloth Grandma’s legs and I too am a short woman, still they serve me well in dancing.d. I dance to honor them, to celebrate life, to mourn life, when I am joyful, when I am sad, when I am angry and when I simply need to move about, connecting with spirit in my own way…
I am amazed at how this all flowed our from me, due to this very special blog post Jude. Thanks.
Iove the flow of your story Marti, a dance in itself. ❤
Loved your story about the legs. I hadn’t given much thought about my ancestors legs but now I’m intrigued to travel down memory lane, not on my long skinny legs but my easy chair and foot rest. Thanks for these provoking thoughts.
it’s worth the journey. to follow a story.
Love the grandmas legs perfect touch! … my first thought was Nemo’s ” My mother’s legs are weeping”
💙
Yes, I just went back to read that…
If there were bunions on the toes those could be my legs. Not Betty Grable’s legs, but they get me where I’m going, at least most of the time.
yeah, got those but I am still going.
I find so much comfort in your voice .. the soft and gentleness of it. It definitely matches your stitched beings .. this one in particular. Love the legs!!!
Talking is different, at least for me, more in the moment, no editing or polishing, no plan on what to say, just as if I am reacting to looking…
me too! I think her voice does wonderful things for my nervous system
I’ve been more aware of my legs because I’ve been wearing shorts in the last two days of heat. Yes, they are old legs, bruised, bumpy, lumpy. Like grandma’s which I remember being always in stockings. (Is that possible?) But still so very functional.
Yes, stockings, imagine that. My dad’s mom had thick aching legs, sometimes stockings rolled around her ankles…but my mom’s mom had beautiful legs even when she was in her 80s. The story goes my grandfather saw her walk by and said I am going to marry those legs. And he did. My mom had terrible varicose legs. But exercise kept her going. Me, baggy at this point but functioning.
Awww….Grandma’s (and Mom’s!) legs…how can you not find them endearing…💙
Right?
And now I am grandma, 😂
Me, too…😊
I went from “sweat” to “sweatshirt” verrrry quickly….doesn’t take long to change here in Wi….love this post; the legs (oh god the legs), old material, twig, changing shapes, and yup, the sweet talking….❣️
Grandma’s Legs look like my legs, with varicose veins.
Finally reining here in Pittsburgh today. The heat should be ending now.
Oh ha! Rain expected later, I welcome it…
I love this, Grandma’s Legs ( my first thot upon reading g the title, seeing chubby little legs w teeny “feet” — I thot of my grandma’s, great grandmas, oh yes! Dresses w chubby legs/teeny feet 😂) But listening, I love how we as women, as a furthering generation also becomes our grandma’s legs, steadying, yet moving thru, from where we were, to where we are going.
Such a nice metaphorical way to see how things continue, yet change.
Such joy here in Moondance
I hear the music!
🩷
Legs, I gave not considered them as much as I could….just beginning to grab my focus.