Who says you can't use Nana's old potholders as wall art? Ok, I'm guessing a lot of curators and interiors designers, but I don't care. These remind me of waking up at the cottage on a summer morning and heading out to pick blueberries with my sister and Nana. I would later trip over a tree root, spilling the freshly-picked berries on the forest floor, but that's not what I'm remembering right now. Right now, I'm remembering picking berries, the hot summer sun warming our backs, while Nana sings "There's a Skeeter on my Peeter" to keep the bears away.
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