Wednesday, January 11, 2012


I was raised by my wonderful, whimsical grandparents. They made my young life magical. My grandmother was an antique dealer and a wanderer. She was British and said we had gypsy blood in our family which is why she never settled in one place too long. Her and my grandfather moved almost every other year until she finally found the farmhouse they lived in the rest of their lives.

As an antique dealer she travelled back and forth to England and Scotland quite often. On one trip she had the opportunity to buy a Gypsy Caravan. This had always been one of her dreams.

She always said she would love to have a Gypsy Caravan on the farm. How wonderful that would be.

I could just imagine having one in the garden. The vibrant colours sparkling in the sun.

And inside this little jewel there would be a comfy bed pile with gorgeous patterned pillows beckoning to be lounged upon.

We could sit and have tea or the occasional palm reading.

And we would paint the wicker furniture bold, fabulous colours. Unfortunately, tranporting the Caravan was too costly. I still think of my grandmother whenever I see anything gypsy. She was a free spirit, a woman who imprinted on me the importence of self worth, freedom and the love of life. I miss her but I am so grateful to have had that wonderful gypsy in my life.

1 comment:

  1. This is a beautiful post, Sue. Both is prose and image. How lucky you were to be raised by such free spirited people. I love the gypsy themes myself and a caravan in my garden? Oh, now that's what dreams are made of, my lovely friend.