Mom's Pink Depression Glass

In Loving Memory of My Mother, Nellie Mae

January 14, 1925 - September 4, 1998

 This weekend, September 4th, marks the 13th anniversary of the passing of my beautiful mother. I can hardly believe it's been 13 years. It seems like just yesterday that I'd pick up the phone for a long chat about our shared passions for gardening and geneaology, or to just catch up on family news. Mom also collected depression glass for a time. I remember the first time I heard the term "depression glass."  Many years ago, I'd gone to a garage sale with Mom and my Aunt Verba, where I bought a couple of pretty glass plates that caught my eye. One was light green in color and the other was clear glass, but had beautiful little etched flowers on it. When we got home, Mom said "that's depression glass!"  Depression glass?  What's that? I learned that depression glass is glassware that was distributed for free around the time of the Great Depression in the United States. Many companies would put one piece of it in a box of food, such as oatmeal, and it was also given away at gas stations, movie theaters, or restaurants to encourage sales. One could also purchase depression glass at "five and dime" stores for a very low cost. It was made in colors of pink, green, yellow, blue, amber and clear glass. There are more than 100 patterns of depression glass, and it's become highly collectible since the 1960s. I remember what fun Mom had researching "her pattern," which was pink and called Mayfair Open Rose. No internet back then, so she'd pour over books about depression glass that she'd get from the local library. She found pieces at garage sales, auctions and from other collectors.  Mom eventually had every single piece made in the Mayfair Open Rose pattern. I'm so lucky to have such sweet memories of a dear lady who meant so much to so many. I miss you, Mom!

 

 

I'm linking this to "Pink Saturday" on How Sweet the Sound. I'd like to thank Beverly for hosting Pink Saturday. I've discovered so many beautiful blogs from participating in it!  This week I'm linking to Mary's Meanderings, because I so enjoyed her gorgeous photos of the old china coffee/chocolate pot that she found at a thrift store! What a lovely blog!

Happy Weekend, Everyone!

Sunday at Mom's - Revisiting the 1950s

It was the late 1950s. I was barely tall enough to reach the record player, but I remember standing next to it, listening to Fats Domino sing, “Blueberry Hill.” My Grandpa (Mom’s father) lived with us at the time and he would tease me about listening to that song over and over. Grandpa bought my older sister the record, “Teddy Bear,” by Elvis Presley…and thus began a lifelong love affair between her and Elvis. My two elder sisters (teenagers at the time) were most likely listening to “Lucille” by Little Richard because I remember my Dad saying, “If I hear “LU…CI…LLE” one more time I’m going to scream!” Dr. Suess had just published “The Cat in the Hat,” the Hula Hoop was all the rage, and Candid Camera and The Twilight Zone were on television. A loaf of bread cost 20 cents and a gallon of gas was 25 cents.

At our house on the weekends in the late 50s/early 60s, Mom spent part of Saturday baking pies or cakes. She came from a large family - 8 brothers and sisters. It became a tradition for most of them to visit our house for Sunday dinner. My memories of that time, although I was very young, are strong. The menu was usually fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans or corn and spice cake with caramel icing - comfort food! I can hear the sound of the chicken sizzling in the cast iron skillet, and see Mom in her housedress setting the table, and the murmur of voices and laughter. Not that it was always a Norman Rockwell painting. We were a normal family, and my uncles were sometimes very opinionated and known for their tempers to flare! But…in the end, it was all good, and everyone felt happy and full.

I’m not sure when those big Sunday dinners ended. Certainly, by the time I was in junior high everyone seemed to have scattered. Some moved away, families grew larger and each had their own busy lives and traditions. But, my Mom’s house always had an “open door policy.” Family would sometimes stop by, unannounced, on Sunday afternoon for a visit, and more often than not, end up lingering for dinner. No matter what Mom was doing, she’d stop and welcome visitors with a smile and a warm “hello, how are you?” After she passed away, a couple of people commented to me about how she always made them feel so welcome, and her door was always open. I think of these things now, as I sit here on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Life has changed dramatically since the 1950s, and I accept that, and even embrace it, for the most part. But my Mom’s generous spirit is sorely missed and nothing can replace it. I like to think of her as a welcoming Angel in Heaven…her door always open, always ready with a smile…just as she was for so many of us here on Earth.

Mom's Petunias

When I was in the fourth grade, my parents bought their very first home. We lived in a small Midwestern town and the house was a modest, 3-bedroom ranch-style in a new subdivision. It had shiny hardwood floors, a full basement, small backyard and wooden window boxes. What I remember most about our house on Dudley Street are those window boxes, overflowing with brightly-colored petunias. Every summer, Mom planted and tended the window boxes, as lovingly and efficiently as she did all the other household chores. Always planted with petunias - some years they were multi-colored, other years a theme of red & white, or hot pink and the deep purple ones that felt like velvet to the touch. The window boxes were her pride and joy. Many years later, I remember Mom saying, “our flowers were the best on the block!” Container gardening is an art form and my Mom was an artist - although she didn’t see herself in that light.

People often forego the pleasures of gardening because they think they don't have the room. But, container gardening is an easy and efficient way to enjoy many of the benefits of traditional gardening. Anyone can do it - regardless of where you live. Containers can be traditional - like my Mom’s window boxes, ornate stone urns or clay pots.  Or use your imagination - a basket, old teapot or wheelbarrow can be turned into a fun and whimsical plant cantainer. I once planted flowers in one of my nephew’s old, size-14 tennis shoes! The main thing to remember is that all containers must have good drainage, with at least one drainage hole. Let your pots make a statement - a cast iron urn says "formal" while a wooden barrel says "rustic." Remember - pots and window boxes tend to dry out very quickly, so water, water, water - early morning and evening are the best times. Experiment and have fun, and just like Mom, you’ll soon have “the best flowers on the block!”