When I first pulled out this photo, I had NO idea what to do with it. I tried various papers, pink to match the dress, red for the flowers, grey (too depressing), no luck. Finally, I decided that the paper I used didn't necessarily have to match the photo. I looked at the photo and thought of my Grandparents. My grandmother loved all things floral. She loved printed wall paper, and big prints. I remembered I had a vintage scrap pad collection that was collecting dust at the back of my shelf. I have rarely used it. Vintage is not usually my thing. I flipped through the papers and found a lovely robin's egg blue. 'There is no blue in my photo!' I thought, but it just felt right. I selected the other PP from the same collection because it reminded me of the duvet cover that was on my grandparents bed for as long as I can remember. I chose flowers and embellishments that matched the paper and I was off! The journaling came easy for once. I don't think I did any editing at all.
So. What is the moral of this story you ask? You don't have to choose paper that matches the colours in your photo. Try concentrating on what the photo makes you feel and go from there. I guarentee you it will be much more personal and meaningful when you're finished.
Here is a copy of my journaling. It's tricky to ready in the photo.
My Grandmother and Grandfather played a huge role in my life. They were the center of my world for my entire childhood. I can’t even imagine the person I would be without their influence. There was a hole in my heart when we lost my Grandpa to lung cancer, and then my Grandma a few years later to a heart attack. Life without them has much less colour.
We called my Grandmother “Ma”. Mostly because that’s what her children called her, and when she adopted my cousin Jason he called her Ma as well. It stuck. I don’t think I ever called her “Grandma”, unless talking about her to someone else. On weekends she would pick me up and we would go into town to shop. She would always buy me some small trinket and we would have lunch in a diner (and of course, pie!), then journey home. In the afternoons I would watch cartoons with Grandpa while he did his puzzles. His favourite was the Bugs Bunny and Tweety show, but he would never admit it. I think he just used me as an excuse to watch it. Ma would be in the kitchen getting things ready for supper. The meals I remember the most were side pork and fried potatoes, and a completely wonderful thing she called Goop. Goop consisted of spring vegetables, and new potatoes from the garden all mixed together in a wonderful white crème sauce. There was always desert. If she hadn’t baked anything special my Grandpa would pour the supper tea into two saucers, add brown sugar, and we would dunk homemade bread in it. It was wonderful. Sometimes we would dunk the bread in fresh maple syrup.
Wednesday was bread day. Ma would get up early, (ok, she ALWAYS got up early), and start making the bread dough early in the morning. My Grandpa would not eat store bought bread. It had to be homemade. Ma would use the leftover bread dough to fry scones and get a dish of strawberry jam for me to dip in. I cannot even describe the flavour. To this day I cannot find one as good. Eventually she got a bread maker and her Wednesday traditions stopped, but I can still remember the smell of the bread baking. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I can smell it and it is almost as if I’m back in the yellow sided house in Cordova.
When I was very small, my grandparents lived in
Now that they have passed, I hope they are together and that there is a yellow sided house on a river with a green bridge in heaven. I know that is where I want to be when my time comes.