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.
May 2, 2023Liked by Cecilia At The Kitchens Garden
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
May 2, 2023Liked by Cecilia At The Kitchens Garden
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...
Oh my goodness, such a good story and so many questions about the mysterious Mrs. Van! She could be the main character for the start of so many fiction stories- a series about the life and times of Mrs Van.
Does it bother you at all C, that you will never know the answers or the whys? It's always so hard for me to simply know the stories that I know of the past the way they lie as most are so incomplete and there is no one to answer the questions...
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.
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
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...
Oh my goodness, such a good story and so many questions about the mysterious Mrs. Van! She could be the main character for the start of so many fiction stories- a series about the life and times of Mrs Van.
Does it bother you at all C, that you will never know the answers or the whys? It's always so hard for me to simply know the stories that I know of the past the way they lie as most are so incomplete and there is no one to answer the questions...
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.
Wonderful read. Dying to know what happened to her. Did you move away or did she? Did you ever hear any more about her?