Ironing

Finally I did do some ironing and to tell the truth, I was quite excited about it. Here I got these nice lacy kerchiefs from my grandmothers, white batist with their initials sewn into them. I use them as platesets now. There I got old napkins, strong linen, all of them older then 40 years, some of them from the first decade of the last century. Again with names or initials of so many people, now passed away. Some, few, of them are still handwoven and got a tiny red number sewn into them, probably parts of grandmothers' dowry. Think about it: "40 white napkins, no. 16 is missing!" °Old, white bedcovers with crocheted borders. The mother of my father came from a quite prosporous farm in eastern Germany. Of course they lost everything in the time of war and I am astonished how many things they still could take with them, fleeing on grandpa's fisherboat over the baltic to Danmark. The good china and silver and such they put into a hole in the garden so it would not brake or get lost. Not astonshingly everything had dissappeared when they came back for a visit many years later.