Random thoughts of the only Grandma I ever knew bring to mind her infectious laughter, jovial outlook, her quilts and industrious work ethic. She earned her own money from sales of her handmade quilts and sales of pecans she picked up at my uncle's pecan groves. 

While she had a hard life, I don't ever recall her uttering a single complaint or unkind word. My Grandparents grew their own vegetables, which she canned and stored for the winter, along with hand-picked strawberries, blackberries and peaches. My mouth still salivates when I think of her blackberry cobbler. All visible signs of her labors have long vanished except for her quilts.     

Most people in our small community in rural Oklahoma knew of Grandma's quilt expertise. Known for flawless craftsmanship, she hand cut and hand stitched each colorful piece of fabric together with her signature tiny stitch. I emphasize the stitch, because some quilters made their stitches wider. Wider stitches meant they could produce a quilt faster, but they also fell apart quicker. In Grandma's small hands, each quilt became a work of art. When the cold fall nights arrived, mom covered us with those quilts. To know Grandma made them warmed my heart.  

Always an early riser, her days started well before sunrise. Before and after breakfast, you could find her seated at her quilting frame, working on her latest masterpiece. Her antique quilting frame had been hand carved and hung in midair from the ceiling attached to four strong cords. I don't know who carved them, but they came by way of covered wagon from Alabama to Oklahoma.  

Besides her quilts, she left us with a deeply meaningful phrase that helped her endure hard times. When potential trouble loomed on the horizon, she would say, "You might as well laugh as to cry." Those eight words I hold dear because they are Grandma's real legacy to me.