In today's world of economic downturn, people are looking at ways to lower their spending. There is nothing new in that. My grandparents' generation and their parents before them began with nothing and didn't advance much beyond that. I like to watch the home restoration shows, the tiny house trend and the back to the land versions, with the homestead and off the grid choices. It all sounds strangely familiar. My ancestors lived on homestead land, mostly prairie, and the only trees were the ones they had planted. They brought what little they owned with them and made do. On rare trips into town, purchases might be a huge sack of flour, sugar, salt and baking powder. Likely some thread. All the women made bread, raised chickens, lived off their skills in their simple kitchens. Mom and grandma canned everything, including beef chunks and chicken portions. Mom tried her hand at canning corn but it didn't grow well on our farm. The season was too short. Late spring and early frost meant the corn didn't mature properly. Beets, yellow and green beans were canned all summer, and then became pickles at the end of the season. During my years at the old farmhouse, Mom was blessed with an oversized chest freezer, an added boost to her efforts and preparations. Grandma never owned one until her last tiny house in Didsbury. She thought she'd moved up in the world. That old house also had her first washing machine, although she still used the outdoor clothesline.
"Make do" could have been our motto. I recall grandma recycling worn clothing, cutting out sections of useable fabric to rework into another quilt top, an apron or dresses for grandchildren. She re-patched worn-out knees in pants or coveralls, "overhauls" as she called them. She removed the old patch, carefully replaced it with the newer and reinforced it yet again. Grandma also made braided rugs with those recycled fabric choices. She tried to choose one colour of varying shades, then contrasted with a darker selection. Grandma's rugs were produced quickly as needed. She sewed the long thin strips together, roughly folding the edges inside and fashioned a tight, long braid. She sewed the braid together by hand, with the heaviest of Coats' thread. Her rugs were oval and just long enough. They resided by the door for holding shoes, by the stove and the sink. If you were so blessed there was one by the bed to kneel on to say your prayers and to warm your toes when emerging from the nest of warm covers. The rugs were washable, but those tucked-in edges worked their way out and the mats took on a fringed appearance. Grandma spent time poking through thrift stores, checking each item for damage. She might reuse something for herself or box it to send to the Ontario cousins. We were always excited to receive an Ontario box; I just might find a dress inside that fit me and had not belonged to one of my sisters before me. How exciting was that? Once we girls were collecting babysitting money we rode along on those trips to the thrift store. We were sure to find something: a sweater, a nice scarf to add to our meagre wardrobe. Maybe something we could alter for a gift for mom?
Mom rarely had time to make something for herself. I recall one new outfit that she made, a deep aqua colour that she was so fond of. It was a two-piece with matching shiny buttons. She wore it for good, to church mostly and it was meant to last a long time. Grandma was great at thrift. She'd had no choice. She often bought old sweaters for next to nothing. She carefully picked apart the stitches and wound the used wool into balls. These balls were her stash of yarn that she used to knit warm, colourful mittens and slippers. Well into her 80s after she moved into the lodge, she still kept busy knitting mittens. She sold them and sent the money to missions to help those who had nothing.
