I am convinced that aprons strings are always tied to memories. Whether with family members or colorful waitresses in diners, when asked most people can conjer up stong sensory memory of a woman and her apron.
Mine is of that of my great-grandmother "Granny". I was very young when I visited her but I will never forget her in her apron. The only reason I actually remember the fabric is because I now own the apron but the memory of my Granny is strong.
She was a formidable southern woman who lost her pinky to a lawn mower, dipped snuff ( tobacco chewing for those of you who don't know) and could shell peas and "put up" a whole garden's worth without blinking an eye. She was awe-inspiring and tough as nails and though I was afraid of her stump of a finger, even at that young of an age, I knew that I wanted just a little of what she had.
Her strength, her confidence, her courageousness....
I'd love to hear your apron memories. Please share them with me if you can.
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