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Nana Edith
29th May 1889
My maternal Grandmother, Edith Marie Perry, née Baucke was born in the goldfields in a tiny settlement called Merryjigs in the South Island of New Zealand.
She lived close to us, first in Hamilton and then later in Te Puke, and was a big influence in my life. She took my younger brother Tony and I on rambles in the countryside, probably blackberrying. She took me to the library every Friday where I searched out books like the Bobbsey Twins, Famous Five, and Just William.
She herself read travel books, saying she knew she wouldn't travel to foreign lands in person but visited them through her library books.
I travelled with her when Pop Perry died, visiting her siblings all over the country.
She baked her own bread, made her own wine and ate millet porridge with butter and ground sunflower seeds for her breakfast.
Her garden was legend, her peaches big and juicy. We didn't dare pick them, she knew how many were on the tree. Her pansies were glorious. Everytime I see a pansy here it reminds me of Nana Perry. I've tried growing them but they don't last long in our heat.
She loved being out in her garden and wore big sun hats she made herself.
Often on a Sunday she cooked a traditional roast dinner and rang a heavy brass elephant bell to call us to the table. She made plum puddings and we were allowed a small glass of her wine. Peas and potatoes were from her garden.
Lovely memories, she sounds like an amazing woman.
ReplyDeleteShe was amazing. She came a long way from that shack in the goldfields
DeleteWhat a wonderful grandmother you had. I also find myself thinking a lot in recent years about the two wonderful grandmothers I had, each with a special life story.
ReplyDeleteOur grandparents lived in a different time, so long ago when the world was different, tough. We were lucky too be close to them and know their stories, be inspired
DeleteLovely photos. She had a fair set of legs too. I think you made up for her by travelling so far and wide when you grew up and she would have liked that.
ReplyDeleteMy Nana was a walker. We drive or take a bus. There was no choice back then. We walked. And she worked hard in the garden. That made for strong legs.
DeleteIt was just such a pity that as she got older and forgetful I wasn't there beside her and her latter memories were my younger brother
I love these stories, our memories keep them alive for another generation.
ReplyDeleteLovely photographs and wonderful memories. People look as if they could just step out of the older photographs.
ReplyDelete