In a curious slip through time Mrs Van’s life hit pause at some point. I thought it may have been something to do with the war years. She and her life were stalled.
Your Mrs Van reminds me of my mother when I was a child. Same mangle; she cooked on a wood burner; self-sufficient from her garden and fruit trees (except for meat); sewed her own clothing and ours; strong as an ox, and managed quite well by herself after Dad died. Mum would answer any question asked, but she’d never volunteer information, or talk about herself or her parents. She was self-contained and private. Talking about oneself, for her, was a siren song. This is a lovely, quiet story, c. ~Misky
Interesting how our mothers did not share information - my Mum may not have had time as I was only just out of teenager-hood when she died. I love food cooked with fire - it is so much better. Thank you so much for popping in Misky!
I have rattled coal into that range. I have turned the handle on that mangle and smelt the good smell of hot soapy laundry. I have sat at that scrubbed wooden table and drunk tea from floral cups set on a red and white checked tablecloth. I have seen sunlight on polished wooden hallway floors. Thank you for this lovely nostalgia trip. Another continent, another home, similar time...
I loved spending simpler times with you and Mrs Van, in her kitchen-house-garden-life... less-is-more certainly has an appeal... if that's the dream message, it hits the spot for me.
Mrs Van was a beautiful soul - and it is now only when I am older that I realize how little I knew of her - children and particularly teenagers are so wrapped up in their own lives.
That is an excellent question, Deb. One we all struggle with I bet. But unfinished business and maybe even regret are such a big part of life don’t you think?
Your Mrs Van reminds me of my mother when I was a child. Same mangle; she cooked on a wood burner; self-sufficient from her garden and fruit trees (except for meat); sewed her own clothing and ours; strong as an ox, and managed quite well by herself after Dad died. Mum would answer any question asked, but she’d never volunteer information, or talk about herself or her parents. She was self-contained and private. Talking about oneself, for her, was a siren song. This is a lovely, quiet story, c. ~Misky
Interesting how our mothers did not share information - my Mum may not have had time as I was only just out of teenager-hood when she died. I love food cooked with fire - it is so much better. Thank you so much for popping in Misky!
I have rattled coal into that range. I have turned the handle on that mangle and smelt the good smell of hot soapy laundry. I have sat at that scrubbed wooden table and drunk tea from floral cups set on a red and white checked tablecloth. I have seen sunlight on polished wooden hallway floors. Thank you for this lovely nostalgia trip. Another continent, another home, similar time...
Yes! Kate! I love her house and life so much I dream those floorboards often. That stove and especially the wash house with its huge cold tubs.
I loved spending simpler times with you and Mrs Van, in her kitchen-house-garden-life... less-is-more certainly has an appeal... if that's the dream message, it hits the spot for me.
Mrs Van was a beautiful soul - and it is now only when I am older that I realize how little I knew of her - children and particularly teenagers are so wrapped up in their own lives.
Wonderful read. Dying to know what happened to her. Did you move away or did she? Did you ever hear any more about her?
She grew old and died. My Dad arranged her funeral. And he has died now too so all the rest is up to our imaginations.
That is an excellent question, Deb. One we all struggle with I bet. But unfinished business and maybe even regret are such a big part of life don’t you think?