Abuelita might host a group of ladies for a formal tea in the afternoon, then after they had gone, be found wandering barefoot in the grapes, with a book in her hand, quoting poetry to the birds.

When a strand of hair fell into her lap, Abuelita picked it up and held it against the yarn and stitched it into the blanket.  
     "Esperanza, in this way my love and good wishes will be in the blanket forever.  Now watch.  Ten stitches up to the top of the mountain.  Add one stitch.  Nine stitches down to the bottom of the valley.  Skip one."
     Esperanza picked up her own crochet needle and copied Abuelita's movements and then looked at her own crocheting.  The tops of her mountains were lopsided and the bottoms of her valleys were all bunched up.
     Abuelita smiled, reached over, and pulled the yarn, unraveling all of Esperanza's rows.  "Do not be afraid to start over," she said (pp. 14-15).

"Now that she was a young woman, she understood that Miguel was the housekeeper's son and she was the ranch owner's daughter and between them ran a deep river.  Esperanza stood on one side and Miguel stood on the other and the river could never be crossed" (p. 17).

At first, they stayed only a few hours, but soon they became like la calabaza, the squash plant in Alfonso's garden, who's giant leaves spread out, encroaching upon anything smaller (28-29). 

Abuelita squeezed Esperanza's hand.  Do not be afraid to start over.  When I was your age I left Spain with my mother, father and sisters.  A Mexican official had offered my father a job here in Mexico.  So we came.  We had to take several ships and the journey lasted months.  When we arrived, nothing was promised.  There were many hard times.  But life was also exciting.  And we had each other (49).