The Mysterious Things In My Grandma’s House (1960’s)
Before even stepping inside the back door of my grandma’s house, there, standing poised in a large tub and ready to greet me, stood the money tree. From the time I entered the house until when I was ready to leave, this astounding little tree was able to grow pennies and halfpennies, ready for me to harvest and spend at the local milk bar on my way home.
The large carved clock stood on the mantlepiece just inside the back door, its pendulum swaying back and forth, tick ………. tock, tick ………. tock, slowly and rhythmically, peaceful and mindful of this sheltered haven I had now entered. I was safe. No background noise, just the constant, predictable presence of the slow ticking and tocking.
The living room was a place where treasures were abundant. I would stand in the middle of the worn old carpet where bits of thread were begining to weave their way through to the surface. Dominating this space was a huge framed photo of my grandmother as a bouncing baby. It hung above the fireplace in prime position. It was family icon with great status. The bubbling baby was Alice Maude, first prize winner of the Ballarat Baby Show. The enlaged photo had been touched up with paint. Her cheeks were rosy and her curly hair had blond highlights. She staresd back at me with the promise a life yet to be fulfilled.
Standing against the opposite wall was the mighty, the formidable organ. I regarded it with reverence and awe, yet it drew me in. It was beautiful. Even at such a young age I appreciated the curves and detail in its dark timber. The ivory keys were yellowed by the fingers of time pumping away. The large pedal was carpeted and threadbare, and as my small legs tried to stretch down to reach it, I could barely thrust my toes onto the stubborn pedal. But oh, the splendor of the knobs! This was the most enticing thing of all. Knobs that pulled in and out. Knobs with weird symbols. Knobs that were supposed to produce different sounds. On the many, many occasions I was allowed to play on this organ, delightfully pulling and pushing these bizarre knobs, not a sound did I ever produce.
The most amazing thing that impressed me in my grandmother’s house, the thing I revered and held in the highest regard was the tall rectanguar glass case in the corner of the room. It stood on wooden legs and all four sides were made of glass. This tall case indeed held treasures. Small birds perched on large branches that wound their way up high towards the top of the case. I would stand for ages, enthralled by the beauty and detail of these petite taxidermied birds. I was too young to think about other issues that might entail the craft of taxidermy. I just soaked up their beauty.
There is so much more to tell, such as the treddle sewing machine that had a wooden box for a lid. When the box was lifted the most amazing object appeared from underneath. It was black with mesmerising gold detail meandering its way around the sewing machine. It was one of the beauties of the world, yet it was covered up with a boring wooden box. The drawers contained all sorts of treaures such as sewing pins and coloured thread. These drawers smelled old and musty, a smell I still love to encounter today. In one of the drawers I found what looked like a miniature pillow made from quite ordinary fabric. When I held it to my nose, the strong sweet smell of lavender infused through my nostrils and into my brain where it still sits to this day.
Alice Maude had long straight silver hair that was always tied up into a bun. Once after spending the night with my grandmother, I witnessed the morning ritual. Her long silver hair tickled its way down her back. She was holding a large brush with a bone handle, which she swept gracfully through this splendid hair, shining in the morning sunlight. She then picked up a large bone comb. Its teeth were thick and wide apart. As she dragged it through her hair, I wondered at her beauty.
These images I have described were implanted into my brain at an early age. Choices like beauty over functioality (not always the wisest of choices),or noticing the intricacies in things (as in the little birds in the big glass case). I have been drawn to creativity, endurance and objects made by the skilled hands of artisans. I cannot help myself, I have an unending love affair with antiques.