Ponder the Beauty of Ada Christine

"Isn't she lovely", I say,  not questioning her beauty but moreover in a tone of admiration. Yes, she is my Grandmother and in most cases, we love our Grandmothers for who they are and for what they add to our lives.

(right)Ada with little Zina on her lap then Ada's Sister Blanch(left, sitting) and Sister Buelah(standing behind her) Gin-Gee is standing behind Blanch

I can honestly say that I am my Grandmother's daughter in many ways.  I've been told I look like both of my parents, Tony and Zina, however, my disposition is much like my Grandmother Ada's.

As a child, I remember riding along the West Virginia Turnpike in anticipation of our visit to her cozy little home on N. Oakwood Avenue in Beckley.  Her yard had apple and walnut trees and a whole extra yard filled with old fashioned phlox that would bloom in pink, white and purple.  I always hoped she had made her homemade blackberry cobbler made from the berries growing in her yard because it was truly my favorite.  Sometimes she would even ask me to go pick the berries!

 



Yes, Grandma Ada passed her "top half" on to me as well

 

 

 



Ada was quiet, creative, could sing a little, could cook a little, could garden a lot, could can her apples and crack her black walnuts every Summer.  She loved her home and family, she was a caregiver, she was quite the looker in her day, she liked cream in her coffee and toast with butter and homemade applesauce as a snack.  Grandmother Ada used real butter and allowed me to climb up on her table and put my finger in the softened butter stick that lay on the china butter dish anytime I wanted.  She also invited me to join her in having a little cup of coffee with cream (and sugar) from time to time.  She always served her coffee in beautiful china that I have today and taught me how to hold my pinky out while holding my coffee cup to let people know I was being ladylike.  And the best moment was at the end of our coffee time when she would look in the bottom of her cup to see if there were any coffee grinds left.  If there were a few, she would begin to tell the tale of how she could read the coffee grinds...always entertaining my mind with all the good things that were to come.

One memory that comes to mind about Grandmother Ada's kitchen is that she always had pretty curtains in the windows and always tied an apron on before preparing the meal.  I feel fortunate to have a special box of aprons and linens that belonged to her.  I really enjoy looking at them from time to time.  It brings back so many great memories of setting around her table having conversations with my Momma and Aunti and family.  I can smell the flavored steam of her green beans seasoned with bacon and onions cooking on the little gas stove in her little special cove of a kitchen.

 

I called her Grandmother for as long as I can remember then one day when my kids were little, I began calling her Grandma.  Maybe it's because it was a shorter word for my boys to say or maybe it's because I really didn't want anyone else calling her by the endearing name I held close to my heart.