Monday, September 26, 2011

sometimes when i buy potatoes, i cry. when they are fresh, with dirt still crumbling from them, i put them to my face and smell them. i only buy potatoes that are grown on prince edward island. the water stains like blood from the red clay when i wash them. and i feel the connection to my grandmother again. my grandparents were farmers on prince edward island. potato farmers. potato farming went several generations deep in our family. but it ended with my grandfather. my father left the farm when he was just a teenager. all his siblings eventually did. and my grandparents auctioned their home and the family farm and left the island to be close to their children. for many years they would return every summer and rent a house for the season. and i remember spending long visits with them there as a child. but i didn't know the farm. they sold it the year before i was born. i know the stories of the farm like they were my own. i know the names of the horses. i know the names of the neighbors. i have a clear picture of the house, the kitchen, the barns. and now i spend my days sewing scraps of fabric into quilts, my feeble attempt to capture just a taste of that simple life that was so difficult and so sweet. and i sometimes cry when i feel the gritty red clay on store bought potatoes.

7 comments:

  1. Such a poignant and powerful post. I love the way you are making the connections and stitching together memories of your family in your words and your work.

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  2. Having the reminders of the tapestry that is our history can be such an uplifting and moving experience. I empathise with this ritualistic emotional reference. I feel that way when I smell certain scents and especially when I see a house with concrete porch. Takes me straight back to my Grammy. :-)

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  3. i think we reach an age when we relate to all those who parented and grandparented us. and we wish we could have a little of it back.

    oh, a concrete porch! i love porches. and we called my grandmother grammy too.

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  4. i am just entering this kind of life...
    next year i `ll grow my own potatoes
    ; )

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  5. So beautiful- "that simple life that was so difficult and so sweet". We both shared about potatoes today (I am not surprised).

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  6. Makes me think of my great-grandparents. They used to have a farm and sawmill. When my grandmother sold her home to live near my aunt, she was going to auction off all the furniture that once belonged to my great-grandparents farm. Luckily, she gave it to me before it was auctioned off. Now my home is filled with all the antique hutches, four-poster beds, dressers, and wedding china. I love looking around my home and seeing memories of the people I never got to meet.

    Beautiful story.

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  7. oh amanda....you are so lucky to be surrounded by heirlooms. it must be so special to live with these items as your own. beautiful!

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