apron tablecloth dishtowel window treatments

Yesterday, I received a sweet email from an Illinois resident who I had the pleasure of meeting when she stopped by my bed and breakfast last August, accompanied by her sister who lives in the area. A snippet of her email... "I just thought I would let you know that I was just looking at your website for a little apron-inspiration, and got sidetracked by your blog about the "fruit" cake. I am now full of curiosity about whether Jessica actually took a bite of the cake/bread that you'd left aside for her with the lentil soup." Yes, Sharon, after a wary, skeptical, miniscule sampling of my fruit cake, my daughter Jessica single-handedly put away an entire mini loaf during her 3-day visit. Perchance there are other apron lovers in the blogosphere, so I thought I'd dedicate this blog post to you, Sharon, and others that are also looking for a little "apron-inspiration."

My apron love, obsession really, began as a child growing up in the 1950s when it was as commonplace for women to slip into an apron as it was the dress underneath. I rarely saw my mother apronless as she went about completing her daily tasks. A Saturday trip to town or church on Sunday were the exceptions. No longer a child, I now slip into one of my favorite bib aprons when I bake, as my mother did. It just feels right. For me, it's not for shielding my clothing from spills. An apron defines and elevates my role as the provider of sustenance and culinary enjoyment in my household. (During a visit, my granddaughter sifted through my apron drawer and slipped into one of my aprons. Albeit a bit oversized, much too quickly, she will fill it out just as I have. Photo courtesy of my daughter Heather over at her delightful wordplayhouse blog.)

An apron's role goes beyond the kitchen. A variety of half aprons, both everyday cotton and organdy hostess styles, drape my windows.

Other kitchen linens serve well as window coverings, too. A small tablecloth, gently pulled back to create a billowing poof and secured with an old clothespin, makes a soft, graceful curtain. 

Vintage, handmade embroidered dishtowels clothespinned and looped over a clothesline rope strung between a pair of cuphooks and a colorful, oldtime flour sack tied in a single, loose knot are pretty, too.

Once the use of aprons, tablecloths, and dishtowels for window treatments becomes second nature, you'll be seeing other applications for them, as well. An apron makes a sweet covering for the front of a pedistal sink. Even kitchen utensils are perfect for repurposing. An old slotted spoon becomes a holder to secure a roll of bathroom tissue. Oh, yes. Nothing your eyes fall upon will be seen in the same light. No, not ever.