On Mother's Day, I always think of my mom and grandma who were domestic engineers extraordinaire.
My grandma (Babcia) came to America at the age of 15. My babcia was a seamtress who made me wool pleated skirts and wool bathrobes. This family was always styling. I wonder what they'd think of my daily wardrobe of sweats or jeans and a tee-shirt. The entire family of women crocheted beautifully. I've inherited bedspreads and tablecloths. The stitches are so perfect you can't tell the right side from the wrong side (where stitches are finished off). I can't sew or crochet. But I can scrap some.
I struggle to make pierogi once a year on Christmas Eve. But, unlike crocheting, this is one thing I was able to pick up from my mom. Babcia could whip them up like nothing when my sister and I came to visit and requested them. We'd sit at the table in the basement kitchen and visit with her while she made them for us. In a matter of minutes, we'd be eating the best pierogi ever. The fillings she made were typical of the region in Poland where she grew up: either cheese and raw onion or ground beef, hard boiled egg, and sauteed onion---never, ever mashed potatoes.
This garden also is where family photos were taken.
This seems so long ago. I found a song by Connie Francis to play while this post is up. She was popular when I was growing up, and I remember this song well. "Mama" seems appropriate for today.
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