We love aprons. There is probably some deep psychoanalysis behind that, but for now we’ll just say it’s because they remind us of some special women in our family history.
Two women have inspired the design of our new pansy apron: Grandmother Myrtle Elmore Graham (That’s her at the right in her bonnet and apron. There are more vintage apron pictures coming at the end of the post.) and Great Grandmother Myrtle Susanna Clea Perrine (That’s our mother with her in the picture below as she pats her sister, Nellie, on the shoulder.).
.
.
.
Both of the Myrtles loved flowers and both were known for something special from their kitchens. (Grandma Graham: French cookies and the Tom Brownfield candy. Grandma Perrine: applesauce)
.
.
.
.
We’ve had the Pansy Apron pattern finished and for sale at shows and now it’s time to launch it on the web store! You can get your pattern HERE.
Design inspiration for the apron skirt came from vintage patterns we got from our Grandmother Graham and the center panel is a precious piece of her fabric.
The bib gives you an opportunity to do some paper piecing.
We’ve added some chenille around the pockets (also inspired by a vintage pattern of Grandma’s.)
And the one-piece neck adjustable strap is held in place with a loop and a button.
Because we love aprons, we were delighted to find a great video showing amazing vintage aprons along with the poem “Grandmother’s Apron” by Tina Trivet.
We’d like to add this picture to the collection:
our Great-grandmother Eliza McCubbin Graham and her sons. Of course, she has on her apron.
Then, when we found this well-loved poem entitled “Mother’s Apron” (author unknown) which explains the importance of an apron, we were delighted and inspired. We hope you find inspiration, too!
Mother’s Apron
My mother wore an apron, a clean one every day.
A part of daily living, it served in many ways.
When she hung the wash to dry, her pockets held the pins.
The apron was a washcloth that cleaned our dirty chins.
When days were hot and humid, ’twas used to mop her brow.
When hands were wet from laundry, the apron was a towel.
Her pocket hid a needle to sew the rips we’d get.
In Mother and her apron our many needs were met.
Sometimes it was a basket for eggs or baby chicks,
A bag for garden bounty, and apples that she picked.
At suppertime, the apron protected Mother’s hands,
When taking bread from oven or lifting lids from pans.
It was a fan in evening to shoo away the flies,
But the apron’s greatest use: to wipe tears from childish eyes.
Unknown author
