Favorite Quotes #9 - Chatter, Chatter, Chatter

Aren't these little crafty women just so sweet?  Heads bent over their needlework, a nice cuppa tea on the way.

They are an illustration for the poem "Shoes and Stockings" (in the book When We Were Very Young by A.A. Milne, artwork by E. H. Shepard.)  The original artwork is pen and ink; the color was added by my mom.

My mom always loved a good, freshly sharpened pencil.  One of my coziest memories is cuddling next to her on a lazy morning.  She'd read a poem, and then I'd watch her color, bringing the illustrations to life, just for me.  Looking back now, I see one more indication that I was meant from early on to be an artist.  

Little did I realize then, as a child, how much I would come to resemble these little ladies as an adult!  I now spend my winter days wearing my shawl and drinking cup after cup of tea to keep warm while I sew.  Not to mention that the sewing circle is a preferred mode of socialization!

Here's another example of my mom's work.  This illustrates a poem called "Waiting At The Window" from Now We Are Six, in which the rainy day game of watching raindrops is introduced.  They collect smaller drops as they slide down the window; the game is predicting which will win by getting to the bottom of the pane first.  I must admit to still playing this game, not only on windows but also on the shower wall!

My mom was a big fan of A. A. Milne and Winnie The Pooh (and really any sort of English humor)(and really any sort of English anything).  The last line from this poem, about the crisis that ensues when the palace kitchen has run out of butter, became a standard at our breakfast table.  I also just love these two royals!

 

Sometimes my Mom would get to giggling so much while reading the Pooh stories to me that she couldn't get the words out for quite a while.  Here's one that never failed to get her going for a long time (from the story in which Pooh and Piglet set a trap for a Heffalump, and actually catch one……):

"Help, help!" cried Piglet, "a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!" and he scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, "Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump!  Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump!  Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!"

She'd end up just as breathless as little Piglet!