hmmm...

I made this pillow out of a very old hand embroidered (by someone else) pillowcase. It's soft, probably from being washed so many times, the lace is definitley a bit shabby from age-I kind of like that. The needlework is impeccable and the color is bright snowy white.

In my imagination, the woman who made this was an excellent keeper of the home, evident by her meticulous needlework and laundering skills.

It made me think of my grandmother, my mother's mother. She lived in Ireland, I spent only 3 weeks with her when I was very young during a visit there. I was there only once and she never ventured to the states. She did, however, always know what was going on in our lives as we did hers. She called me "Emmy"

From what I understand she was a strong woman who was widowed young and to support her 7 children she made hand embroidered tablecloths and other linens.

As I go to garage sales and thrift stores in search of previously loved linens. I often find myself pondering how life was so different for the women of previous generations.

I'm quite sure in my imagination I romanticize what it must have been like.

I wonder...