Grandmas Craft Cottage

Grandma’s craft cottage was a magical place. A room with thimbles, embroidery, beads, bits of lace. Multifarious fat quarters were folded into neat little squares There was always a hot iron close at hand. We cousins loved stopping in to listen to a story. Or tell one of our own, watching Granny’s nimble fingers create magic. This was our haven, our heart, the epitome of our safe place. Even though Grandma was gone now, her legacy remained. Each one of us came by to tell Grandma how much we loved her. For we felt her presence in this craft cottage More than any other place we had been that day. The church had given us no such comfort.