At Nanny's Knee

I learned much from my grandmother.

Nanny and Pop-pop lived right next door and as children, we had an open invitation to visit them whenever we wanted. My favorite way to go to Nanny and Pop-pop's house was through the woods. A worn path led me there, and after a spring rain, gooey puddles would always pop up at the same spots -- the oblong puddle by the gnarled maple tree root, a series of three smaller puddles by the large boulder, and the biggest puddle near the end of the path where you could finally spot the red house on the hill. Nanny and Pop-pop's backdoor was always unlocked.

A chance to spend the night at Nanny and Pop-pop's was an extra special treat --- usually my younger sister Anne and I would sleep in the guest room together. I would carefully pack my tiny red plaid suitcase with clean pajamas and playclothes for the next day. After dinner, we'd visit and before long, it was off to bed. My favorite part of the visit was when Nanny read to us at bedtime! She'd sit on the edge of the bed and read another chapter from Uncle Wiggly --I could hardly wait to hear each new chapter, and sometimes she'd spoil us and even read two. When she kissed us good-night and shut off the light, a tiny red nightlight winked on the light switch for the bathroom while I fell asleep dreaming of Uncle Wiggly and his friends.

When I got a little older, Nanny loaned me a book from her own bookshelf. I had been eyeing it curiously for several years. It had a beautiful turquoise dust-jacket, and I remember Nanny telling me that the book -- The Stillmeadow Road by Gladys Taber -- was one of her favorites, and that it was really written for grown-ups. It was a big vote of confidence when she told me she was sure that I'd enjoy it; I felt so special. And today, a copy of that book --- complete with its blue dust-jacket -- sits on my bookshelf today. Perhaps I'll be able to share it with a grandchild someday.

I didn't appreciate Nanny's gardening very much when I was a little girl. Her very large garden was filled with vegetables in shades of green, red, and yellow. I hated pulling weeds because I didn't like the chance encounter with a garter snake or large worm. I was never very excited to help at picking time either. Too bad I didn't pay better attention back then. I often wish Nanny were here to help me when I have questions about a certain plant or shrub.

When I was ten or eleven, Nanny first taught me how to use her Singer sewing machine. The narrow sewing room was at the top of the stairs. A window overlooked the driveway and let in the midday sun. The wooden cutting table that Pop-pop had fashioned for her was hinged to the wall under the window. To the left of the cutting table, tucked into an eave, was a green dresser that held all kinds of treasures--drawers of fabric scraps, zippers, bias tape, and grosgrain ribbons. I loved to unfold the bits of pinked fabric and lay them out on the cutting table -- I could quickly identify leftovers from some of Nanny's blouses, and from many favorite dresses and jumpers that Nanny made for me and my sisters. A deep, round tin on top of the dresser held hundreds of buttons -- square, round, 2-hole, 4-hole, and in just about every color you could imagine. I'd run my fingers through the buttons like they were gold bullion; they were cool and smooth and sounded like nothing else. Spools of thread stood at attention on the wall just to the right of the sewing machine. With Nanny over my shoulder, I was nothing less than a princess seated in the black wooden chair at the old Singer. She guided my hands and knee as the machine whirred and pushed the sharp needle in an almost-straight line through the crisp cotton fabric.

I still have a box of Nanny's fabric scraps--the colors are somewhat faded but still magical-- and a prized quilt she made with so many pieces of my childhood frocks graces our summer bed.

Spending time with Nanny felt safe and light. I can still remember the sound of her backdoor as I eagerly opened it. "Hello? Who's there? Come on in!" A smile burst across my face as I made a bee-line through the kitchen and into the living room where she greeted me with a big hug and a kiss. I miss her so much.