I’m not sure our children know what an apron is for. But I know that throughout history, the apron has been indispensable.
The principal use of Grandmother’s apron was to protect the garment underneath as she only had a few dresses - sometimes only one or two. It was easier to clean an apron than a dress and they needed far less fabric. Plus, in Grandma’s time, all cotton fabrics had to be ironed, and everything was sewn from cotton! Dresses had pleats and ruffles, which were arduous and slow to iron but because aprons were a more streamlined garment, they were quick and simple to care for.
Along with the apron’s intent to guard a dress worn underneath, the apron also served as a handy pot holder for sliding hot cake pans from the oven. It was great for drying children’s tears, and once in awhile was even handy for cleaning out dirty ears. In the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, finicky chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to finish hatching in the bread warming oven. If a cock got a bit feisty, an enthusiastic waving of the apron became a fast and effective way to shoo him away.
When visitors came, those indispensable aprons were excellent concealment places for wary grandchildren, and a quick change to a new apron became a whole wardrobe change, just for company. When surprise company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that useful apron could dust in just seconds. And that apron was perfect for cleaning a smear off a window pane, or for melting a spot in the frost to look out on a chilly winter morning.
And when the wind grew chilly, Grandma wrapped her apron around her shoulders. When it drizzled rain, it protected her head, or the face of a newborn baby grandchild. Chips and firewood were hauled into Grandmother’s kitchen in that apron. Those trusty old aprons wiped many a perspiring forehead, bent over a hot batch of jam, or looking up at a warm summertime moon.
From Grandmother’s garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it toted out the pods. When she weeded the garden, it carried the vile weeds to the pigpen. In the fall, the apron was handy to bring in the red apples that had fallen from the trees. When dinnertime came, Grandma walked out onto her porch, flapped her apron, and the men knew it was time to quit work and come in from the fields for dinner.
Folks now would go crazy trying to decide how many germs existed on that apron. But you know what? I don’t think I ever caught anything from an apron. But Grandmother’s apron sure meant home and love to me.
