There are very few people in this world whom I love as much as I loved my Grandma Ruby. She lived in a wonderful little house under a huge maple tree, with a very explorable creek nearby. No corner of Grandma's house was off limits to us kids. She was a pack rat of the first order and I absolutely loved digging through her piles of boxes. And boy, could she ever play! As far as her grandchildren were concerned, she was a one-woman personal entertainment system, and we couldn't get enough of her company.
She had absolutely no patience whatsoever with the domestic arts. I can only imagine that she picked up a needle at all as an attempt to fit in with other ladies in their social gatherings, which is why I think I treasure this little square of muslin so much. If the date is accurate, she was 20 when she made it.
Um... I did better embroidery when I first learned how when I was 9. (But then, I like stitching. Motivation is everything sometimes!)
It isn't even hemmed, just basted.
Everything about this little hanky reminds me so much of her though, that it makes me feel that she is still with me. Grandma Ruby died while I was pregnant with my oldest daughter who is named after her. I am only sorry that she never knew her namesake, who is so much like her in personality that I wonder sometimes... Do names have more influence than we give them credit for?