I'm always happy when Monday comes to a close. It's not that I have a thing against Mondays or that I'm wishing my life away....far from it. I'm just happy that the house is clean again and the laundry basket is empty, even if both are only temporary.
This Monday I had an extra reason to smile as a pulled one particular load from the dryer. I was folding these:
These two afghans are much more than a familiar way to ward off a chill in the air; they're a tangible reminder of the two women who made them so many years ago. That alone fills me with happy thoughts.
The brown one on the left was made by my mother. While I don't remember her crocheting much of anything else, her art talents knew no bounds and when she decided she wanted to make these throws, she figured out how. The colors were chosen to match our house. Yes, I decorated with harvest gold and it's best friend avocado green and lived to tell about it. We don't let the fact that it doesn't match anything in our house now bother us; it's still well-loved. And proof that everything old is new again, check out that chevron stripe.
The second one was made by Wayne's grandmother. What I remember about seeing Grandma Arnall work on one of these afghans was the size of the crochet hook. It was as big around as a broomstick, producing a lacey weave in a blanket that came together in no time. She must have known these were "my colors" even before I did as it's a perfect match for the current decor.
There would be some who would argue that these are heirlooms that should be stored in a box in the top of the closet so they could be appreciated by future generations. After all, the hands that lovingly crafted them left this earth long ago. Truth is, there are boxes in the tops of closets holding a select few handmade treasures set aside for just that purpose. These afghans, however, have been used for just what they were made for.
They've wrapped up sleeping children and comforted under-the-weather adults for more than 40 years now. I had to pause and count up those years today as I took them out of the dryer. There's a loose stitch here or there in both of them but they've held up remarkably well for handmade items that have been laundered over and over. And because we use them, they're a happy reminder of the women who made them.
The grown-up version of that guy in the 1981 photo above (aka our oldest son) was reminded of them too when he was here not long ago. The blue and green afghan was thrown over the end of the couch in the family room when he sat down in a nearby chair. Next thing I knew, he was snuggling into its soft folds. It's almost like a hug from Great-Grandma, he said. It was all the proof that I needed to know that using these afghans is the absolute right thing to do.