This weekend the UK will celebrate Mother’s Day and, as a girl, both grandmothers and great grandmothers were recognised too, for they were as much a part of the maternal teaching I received as a child as my own mother. This was written a couple of years ago, but as I’ve been caught up in making and fettling for the past few days, this poem came to mind, so I thought I’d share it again. It is a true story, and great grandma always seemed to choose the brightest colours for her darning…
“Tha’ mun mek’ do an’ mend, little lass,” Granny said
As she planted her small wisdom-seeds,
“Tha’ll not allus get what tha’ wants in this life…
And tha’ll not allus ‘ave what tha’ needs.”
*
Whenever I’ve needed the things I don’t have
Granny’s words have put me on my mettle.
“…an’ what tha’ can’t buy, tha can probably mek’…
And what tha’ can’t mek’, tha’ can fettle.”
*
I remember it well, though it’s long, long ago,
I was but a small lass at her knee,
And I watched as she darned Grandad’s old holey sock,
Weaving slowly so that I could see.
*
The needle went over and under each thread
As the wool wove a web through the breach.
She was working with love at necessity’s call…
A lesson she wanted to teach.
*
Where there had been naught but a great gaping hole
Her deft fingers were weaving the wool,
Where once there was nothing a ‘something’ was made
So the void in the sock was soon full.
*
The wool didn’t match, you could see every thread,
There was no way the colours could hide,
But when Grandad put on his now newly-darned sock
I could see that he wore it with pride.
*
And I watched something pass in the space inbetween,
Eye to eye, heart to heart, without sound…
Of a love and a life they had shared for so long
That they shone with a beauty profound.
*
I may not have all that I want, it is true,
And my needs may not always be met,
But watching my grandparents’ unspoken love
Taught a lesson I will not forget.
*
She could have just bought him a new pair of socks
So the old ones could be thrown away.
Instead her old fingers had woven and worked
So he walked in her love every day.
*
The ‘something’ that blossoms where ‘nothing’ once was,
If in caring and love it is grown,
Is the one priceless gift that a pauper can give
Yet that even a king cannot own.
Brilliant tribute to so many things. Grandma, love, creating.. Just brilliant.
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Thanks, Violet x
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Sue, That is one gem of a poem! And, oh …..”So he walked in her love every day.” (Having suffered the Great Depression in the 1920s, my own dear mum was always ‘making do and mending.’ One of her oft heard expressions was “That’ll do fine…” But she never had to mend her love…) Hugs xx
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I love that, Joy xxx
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Here’s my old sock poem…
SOLE MATES
i must tell you of a romance
that’s sadly on the rocks;
not between the sexes
but between some classy socks.
It started up last Christmas Day,
when Aunt Louise arrived to stay.
She put a box beneath the tree
containing lovers: he and me.
A present for her favourite: Fred –
( a studded Punk with hair of red),
In bovver boots we both did tread,
and vowed we’d be forever wed.
We snuggled in the sock drawer,
we ran, we walked, we washed.
hung side by side upon the line,
and by the winds were tossed.
And then one day
he went away, without an explanation,
so here I lie with nylon strangers expecting expiration.
Where oh where has my darling sole-mate gone?
I really am bereft and feeling quite alone.
I’ve heard there is a ‘sock-hole,’
where lost socks gravitate,
I hope that isn’t true
as I’m pining for my mate.
If you come across him,
do to him relate
that I miss him dearly every day
and want to know his fate.
(With apologies…) Joy Lennick xx
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Brilliant, Joy! xxx
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Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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The perfect tribute to Mother’s Day, and what it really means to beloved sons and daughters…
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many generations, most of them unknown, make us who we are.
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think of all those mothers…
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I know…
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You do nail things with them here poems, you know. another splendid version… I wish the old man were still alive, he’d adore your oeuvre, you know..
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I think we might have got on a treat 🙂
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He’d have loved following you around the churches too, picking out the history morsels. Yep, he may have been born in Northamptonshire but he was a Dales man at heart in so many ways.
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This is beautiful Sue.
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Thanks you, Colleen.
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I love this. The words and the beautiful concept.
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A true story 🙂
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Wonderful
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Lovely ❤
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❤
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Wonderful tribute, Sue!
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Thanks, Jennie.
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You’re welcome, Sue.
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Pingback: Grandad’s Socks… | Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo | Campbells World
What a wonderful way to celebrate Mother’s Day! I,too, was taught to darn by my grandmother and still do it, when necessary (!). Love to all mothers….
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I still know how to darn and embroider, thanks to great granny 😉
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A really lovely poem Sue. It triggered all sorts of warm and happy memories for me. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
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Thanks, Alli… I learned a great deal from great-granny 🙂
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Don’t we all. They’re true treasures. 🙂
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🙂
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This is pure Beauty!
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Thank you, Ennle 🙂
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Most welcome always 🙂
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I love the idea of walking in her love every day Sue. A wonderful poem. Thanks so much for sharing it again
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Thanks, Di… they were a lovely couple.
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Lovely memories.
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Reblogged this on Jordy’s Streamings.
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Happy Mother’s Day, Sue!! 💕💕
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Thank you, Jordis ❤
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💕🤗
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I love this, so beautiful. 💕
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Thanks, Amanda. I adored my great grandparents.
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You’re so fortunate to have known them. I only had one set of grandparents, on the the other side of the country.
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I had a full complement… but you don’t realise at the time how lucky that makes you.
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So true – of everything!
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Absolutely.
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This is too precious! How beautifully you caught the feelings… Well done!
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Thank you, Kevin.
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My pleasure!
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I did enjoy this 💜💜
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I’m glad, Willow ❤
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🙋
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I still have my mom’s darning egg – such memories I cannot let go!
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Some things need to be held on to 🙂
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Beautiful Sue. Wishing you a Happy Mother’s Day ❤
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Thanks, Debby. ❤
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❤
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I always like to do my darns and mends in contrasting colours. There’s something wickedly subversive about it. 😀
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I never though of great granny as subversive …maybe she was 🙂
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