My late paternal grandmother and my own mother (thankfully still with us) were marvels with a needle and thread. If being good at gardening gives you a green thumb or green fingers, then they surely were gifted with “thimble fingers”! And I like to think that some of this knack has passed on to me, though in different craft directions.
One of my earliest memories is playing beneath my mother’s treadle sewing machine, watching her feet pedal up and down, trying not to get my fingers caught in the spinning mechanism.
Most of my dresses were hand made, hours spent browsing through Simplicity and Butterick pattern books, the agony of standing still to be pinned into an outfit currently under construction, before the final pressing of seams and then getting to wear a pretty floral new dress or pinafore.
It is the smell of a hot iron on fresh cotton that is a scent that takes me back to those seemingly endless warm summers of my childhood.
This blog post is written in response to the Daily Post prompt “seasonal scents find it here for other more intelligent responses !