Distressed pine tables stained a dark walnut brown served as pedestals for the treasures. We called them doilies, the cream colored circles and long rectangles of crocheted threads that delicately draped the furniture below. The deep stain of the wood gave the lacy doilies center stage. Each knotted edge – or loop intertwined to create a eight petal flower – was easy to spot and easy to appreciate.
My mom and her sisters appreciated them most. Those doilies were made with the farm- worn hands of a beloved woman who never stopped. Never stopped working, never stopped loving and never stopped making beautiful things.
Grandma Sadle lives today in those crochet doilies, the peaches my mom “puts up” every year in canning jars along the south wall of her garage and in the desperate scramble so many of us make to meet with the family among the sand and the sun and the wind of western Nebraska. She’s there in the card games, played in rain-soaked tents with kids and all. In the creases framing so many eyes, deepened now by cascading laughs and chest-emptying losses. She’s here. They all are….
I made these cookies for a teacher appreciation luncheon, to try my hand at a different kind of “detail” work. I was drawn to the artistry of this baker, My Little Bakery, and in the old world techniques Haniela so deftly features at the Sweet Adventures of Sugarbelle. Looking back now – a few months later – I see why the lacy lines called to me. They echoed my own family heirlooms and the people gone that we hold dear.
Beautiful stage-setting dark cookie, compliments of Lila Loa and her delightful “End All” chocolate rolled cookie recipe. Thank you!