(1980 memoirs)
In the wall behind [the couch] was a window that looked out upon the side yard onto a clothes reel, round, with wooden side walk leading to the privy (no longer used) and woodshed.
January 10, 2013
January 9, 2013
Velvet couch
(1980 memoirs)
Next to the desk [in Frankie's living room] was a very old green velvet tufted couch the likes of which I have never seen since. It would seat two when the arms at each end were pulled up. It was not very well padded and you could always feel the springs.
Next to the desk [in Frankie's living room] was a very old green velvet tufted couch the likes of which I have never seen since. It would seat two when the arms at each end were pulled up. It was not very well padded and you could always feel the springs.
January 8, 2013
Polly's desk
(1980 memoirs)
Now [in my description of Frankie's living room] comes the wall opposite the front door. This had an ordinary closing door, which led directly into the dining room. Then came a small desk, which was mine to study at.
Now [in my description of Frankie's living room] comes the wall opposite the front door. This had an ordinary closing door, which led directly into the dining room. Then came a small desk, which was mine to study at.
January 7, 2013
Unused organ
(1980 memoirs)
Next [in Frankie's living room] came the organ, which I don't believe she ever mastered. [It was to be the one heirloom that her grand-nephew wanted.]
Next [in Frankie's living room] came the organ, which I don't believe she ever mastered. [It was to be the one heirloom that her grand-nephew wanted.]
January 5, 2013
Coat tree
(Memoirs 1980)
Then [in Frankie's living room] was a brass "tree" for hanging your hat and coat. I frequently hung my red slicker there, and Cousin Frankie said one day, "Whenever I see that, I am reminded of a big red pepper." Lorin sometimes hung his yellow slicker there too, but it always looked out of place with its black slogans and college guff.
Then [in Frankie's living room] was a brass "tree" for hanging your hat and coat. I frequently hung my red slicker there, and Cousin Frankie said one day, "Whenever I see that, I am reminded of a big red pepper." Lorin sometimes hung his yellow slicker there too, but it always looked out of place with its black slogans and college guff.
January 4, 2013
China cupboard
(1980 memoirs)
In Frankie's dining room stood a large china cupboard lined with a pleasant red calico and filled with dishes I loved. The sauce dishes were rectangular in shape, about 2 1/2 X 6, and I have never seen any like them since. Cup hooks were evenly spaced, everything thought out and beautifully constructed. The outside had some hand carving but was not too ornate. The whole was probably walnut. And this dear soul sawed every board, pounded in every nail, everything all by herself! It was amazing to me then and more so now.
In Frankie's dining room stood a large china cupboard lined with a pleasant red calico and filled with dishes I loved. The sauce dishes were rectangular in shape, about 2 1/2 X 6, and I have never seen any like them since. Cup hooks were evenly spaced, everything thought out and beautifully constructed. The outside had some hand carving but was not too ornate. The whole was probably walnut. And this dear soul sawed every board, pounded in every nail, everything all by herself! It was amazing to me then and more so now.
January 3, 2013
Pie table
(Memoirs 1980)
Now I'll go on about Frankie's house. As you came over the porch, level with the street, you entered directly into the living room. At your right was one of those small ornamental tables. A Pie Table? I forget. But the whole top turned about, in the top of which was a triangular pie-shaped piece on small brass hinges that could open up. A few inches, probably four, down, was a divided section, exactly the dimensions of the top revolving piece, so that you could open the aperature and spin the top around to the compartment you wished, to get out your cloves or whatever you had put in it.
Now I'll go on about Frankie's house. As you came over the porch, level with the street, you entered directly into the living room. At your right was one of those small ornamental tables. A Pie Table? I forget. But the whole top turned about, in the top of which was a triangular pie-shaped piece on small brass hinges that could open up. A few inches, probably four, down, was a divided section, exactly the dimensions of the top revolving piece, so that you could open the aperature and spin the top around to the compartment you wished, to get out your cloves or whatever you had put in it.
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