Heartwood
I often rummaged through Grandma's attic,
thin cedar planks betwixt neatly folded timeworn quilts,
velvet hats with satin ribbons, bows, delicate silk embroidery,
and impossibly dainty white gloves with buttons
all carefully folded and preserved from almost another century.
Was fascinated with her small black and white photos
of Yellowstone, 1915, Marguerite side-saddle upon a donkey -
smooth face, plumpish body, dark hair mesmerizing me.
Other photos of dashing young men, smartly dressed,
proper women with hour glass figures skirted and buttoned-up,
images of grandma's arms tantalizingly outstretched
holding treats for begging bears -
all proof she'd been young once. I'd put everything away,
carefully descend narrow wooden stairs and look at her -
try to find 1915 in her sweet dear face. She'd smile, knowingly.
----------
The watercolor of an old red cedar graced the walls of first,
Grandmother's house, then ours. Great-Grandmother Nellie painted it,
lived in the Red Brick house just a mile from my childhood home,
died their 34 years of age - measles and pregnant with a fifth child.
Other paintings of hers: little yellow chicks, farm scenes, florals.
Imagine her walking past kitchen garden, beyond white picket fence,
setting up her paints, hair and face sheltered beneath wide brim hat,
brush in hand, humming between laundry and kitchen chores.
----------
A red cedar graces my childhood home's lot line,
was there when our house was built. Recently stood beneath her -
old arthritic branches extending far above my head.
Remember the dark purple-blue berries I'd pick
when I was young. See a young soft sprout and marvel at this offshoot -
proof of the nurturing force of nature, of an old matriarch's
protective shade - thankful my father never chopped her down
for firewood.
----------
I find a fabric that quilts together these memories
and as I search for complimentary pieces and ponder patterns,
I anticipate wrapping myself up in cedar and berries,
love and family.
by Margaret Bednar, August 3, 2017
 |
| Painting by my Great Grandmother Helen Augusta (Lyford) Hutchins |
Red Cedar trees can live up to 900 years. The fine-grained, soft brittle pinkish to brownish-red heartwood is fragrant, very light and very durable, even in contact with soil. Because of its rot resistance, the woods used for fence posts. The aromatic wood is avoided by moths, so it is in demand as lining for clothes chests and closets, often referred to as cedar closets and cedar chests.
This is linked with "
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - Quilt Me a Poem"
 |
The Eastern Red Cedar that was standing in my side yard when I was two years old and is
still there - a mile from where my Great Grandmother Helen Augusta lived - I like to think this
is an offshoot of the tree she painted above. |
