Teelside Mama

MY REMEMBRANCE BOX

2011-07-07T07:47:00.000-04:00

We always return from the Teel Family Reunion with a box plumb full of memories. Some naturally come to the forefront as I review the week just past:

• Two phone calls while on the way to Tennessee … first, Evabeth telling us she was baptized that morning and second, John calling to say he was baptized that afternoon. What a great start – rejoicing with the angels. Coincidentally, Caleb was born on June 26 – the day Eva and John were born again. No phone call can be more precious than those that bring news of birth and rebirth.

Our cup runs over … knowing that the Wayne Teel family now numbers 30 - 27 of them are now faithful to the Lord. And, as Grandfather says, we have every confidence that the 3 remaining will step up and take a place in the family of God when knowledge and age make them accountable. How blessed, how blessed!

• Evening songs of praise and worship … including John at his first time song leading with the rest of his brothers and cousins. The rafters rang out … and it was so interesting / encouraging to see the songs each chose and how their choices reflected their sincere hearts.

• Josiah, across the room, singing tenor with his Grandfather.

• Morning coffee and crochet hook…in the rocker … on the porch … watching the early morning mists traverse the Smokey Mountain landscape.

• Grandsons and granddaughters scampering off to the pool every chance they had … under supervision of older cousins, brothers or father … always modestly dressed.

• Talent upon talent as the “kids” performed lovely music, silly songs and playful skits of insightful humor. [Interested parties could check out Lisa's Facebook page for videos of several talent show acts.]

***Audrey and Hannah singing “Mama’s Hands” … the song with its dedication to the Teel sisters, as I requested … they learned it well and performed it SO beautifully!
***All the grandsons trooping out in Sears shirts in an hilarious skit about the Sears repairman, a.k.a., Wayne Teel; a.k.a. Grandfather.

***Luke taking on “Awake” (a Josh Groban song) … with Audrey’s guitar accompaniment … soloist and guitar carried out, again, SO beautifully!

***Caitlin … our queen of silly songs … leading an uproarious rendition of “Ghost Chickens in the Sky” … ably aided by Laurie Anne and Hannah. You had to be there!!! [It seems that practicing that act was the ‘straw that broke the kneecap’s back’ and sent Laurie Anne to the hospital in an ambulance the evening before … she came back in a brace and so she sat/sang on a stool and joined the trio with gusto … such a trooper.]

***The ‘youngers’ of the clan, Trevor, Eva, Rebekah and Taylor, pitching in to present their songs and skits with the same vigor as the others.

• The traditional “Elders’ Breakfast” … it has long been the custom of the second generation to host a breakfast (or evening event) for the Teel Siblings and their spouses. Always a special act of honor and love that provides keepsakes for our remembrance boxes. This one included antique oil cans for the guys, handmade doilies (crocheted by Hannah) and framed floral photos (done by Lisa) for the gals. Beccie arranged the festivities … after eating, the siblings were encouraged to tell tales on each other … some were even NEW … with a whole lot of “gun” stories in the mix. Still, I’m not inclined to suppose the brothers were truly hoodlums … not even in their wildest escapades … but who’s to say.

• Splendid suppers prepared in turns (so each group arranged just one evening meal for the week). The Teels seem never short of food and this plan worked very smoothly. The menus: Subs with veggies and chips; Fried Chicken, Green Beans and Salad; Filet Mignon, Baked Potatoes (white and sweet), Salad and Rolls; (all served courtesy of family friend Clyde); Mexican Pile-Up; and Turkey with trimmings.

***Now really, how many folks are blessed with filet mignon for a clan of fifty plus relatives? Not any in my circle of acquaintances – but Clyde and Erline are always extremely generous.

***The grandsons taking their turn at clean up duty after evening meals – Caitlin was in charge of those arrangements and camping has taught her the value of using all resources available. It’s good to feel useful, after all.

***It was fitting that our last meal was a Thanksgiving menu … we had so much to be thankful for as our time together wound down.

• Sweet Georgia Peaches – Jonathan Isaac, as well as the edible variety.

• Prayers – every one of them so thoughtful … especially Luke’s prayer for Laurie Anne and her care givers (first off, before Part I of the Talent Show) in her absence. First things first … how heartwarming.

• And last but not least, the beautiful accommodations and surroundings of The Preserve in the Great Smokey Mountains … planned in true Laurie Moyer style. We brought home so many personal touches that reflect her talent and her love of family. A welcome basket was on each bedroom chest or table – they held Family Directories to help us keep in touch; Laurie’s handmade bath salts and ‘leafy petals’ hand soap; hand sanitizer; solo cups; tissues packets in sewn holder; mints/candies … pretty as a picture. Laurie made tapestry cup holders with each individual’s name on an embroidered tag – a stroke of genius, as we could always locate our own cup and conserve on supplies. She also laid in basic pantry supplies and brought cafeteria trays – that fit in the dishwasher. Planning for, handling the finances and shuffling activities for a group of 50+ folks of different ages, tastes and needs is no small task. What a job! How well done!

This is to be the last of the Teel Reunions involving Wayne’s siblings/families and we certainly finished off the tradition in style. Aunt June said, “we started off with peanuts and we ended up with caviar” – a pretty apt description. The reunions began in 1967. It is sad to see something so good come to a close but such is inevitable with changing lives and moving time. A lot of remembrance boxes have been filled through the years … couldn’t trade them (as Wayne’s dad used to say) for a farm in Georgia.

So there we were – kith and kin from Alabama, Arizona, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia and West Virginia (all but two of us a good long way from Queen Shoals, West Virginia where the Teel siblings were born). We continue to thank God for safe journeys (in both directions) for all of our dear family and the sweet memories we made together. How Blessed! How Blessed!

As I've said elsewhere...this is about as near to heaven as I ever expect to feel/be on this earth ...

SIMPLICITY

2011-03-25T11:18:00.001-04:00

'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free ...

It's not exactly Spring yet, so this quilt is not exactly Spring colors. But, it is leaning in that direction. Aren't we all.

The older I get, the more I like simple things. No clutter on the tables; no unnatural looking arrangements of fake flowers; a patchwork quilt for a bedspread; simple fare for supper with buttermilk cornbread now and then; quiet spaces for reading, meditation or listening to birds as they begin their courting songs in the morning, and "cheepers" calling in the distance at twilight. Simplicity in Springtime. What more could one want?

Perhaps with age we lean toward our heritage. Mine is certainly artfully simple. Former generations are thought of often and warmly - they pursued a simple life in a slower time with much talent, ingenuity and, might I say, brilliance of mind. No fault could be found in leaning in their direction. Indeed, there is comfort and profit.

Back to the quilt. The theme fabric waiting patiently in the stash called out to me as winter began to wane. It demanded, by virtue of its larger design something that would show it to advantage. This design was gleaned from a magazine advertisement and worked fine for me. See, simple can still be pretty.

Keep it simple - a very rewarding objective.

Remembering Anna

2010-11-23T06:26:00.004-05:00

Long, long ago we lived in the Pennsylvania Dutch country around Lancaster. We rented a house in farm country, surrounded by gentle rolling knolls and an endless sky. I never tired of watching the wide skies, knolls and tree lines - so far a stretch from the close ridges of my West Virginia home. It was a very happy time for our young family.

We moved to Pennsylvania when our first son was but three months old, and the other three were born there. Four children in five years make for busy days - and we loved it all. We soon formed ties with our church family and they were so good at caring for us and filling the gaps for relatives far away. There were two families in particular whose ties remain, and today I'm remembering Anna especially.

Anna and Clyde served very well as surrogate family for so many. When we first met, Anna was about my age, I guess. (Funny how "over 65" seemed older then). She and her dear daughter Olive planned a housewarming/welcome party for us not long after we came from Florida. An adorable donkey cookie jar given to us at that gathering remains a Teelside fixture. The beginning of many kindnesses showered upon us over the years.

Anna taught me a lot about a lot of things. Hospitality, benevolence, nurturing. Clyde would drive me to doctor's appointments while Anna watched the kiddos. They were likely to knock on the door any day some need was perceived. They knew how to visit the sick and were not afraid to do so. Once, when hubby was down with mono and missed a couple weeks' pay, they came bearing canned goods --"just things that had set on the shelves long enough and needed to be used." Canned gravy ... I would never have thought to buy that, but it was tasty. It takes special knack to treat the needy without making them feel pitiful, and they were good at caring, tending with grace.

Anna would tell funny stories about blowing sulfur back into her mama's face when she was trying to shake it from a paper funnel into the back of Anna's throat. [(Early antibiotic therapy?) I was in stitches with that one - and new surgical stitches had me begging for no more funny tales until I was home from the hospital.] Or the time she was sick and Clyde made a big pot of vegetable soup - he figured anything and everything from the pantry should go into it and tossed in a couple cans of beets. It looked funny, but was all eaten. Oh, I can just see her eyes sparkling and her shoulders shaking. She could giggle like any little girl. Clyde's eyes sparkled too; and though a thin man, he had plump rosy cheeks that gave him the look of a sweet little elf.

So many fond memories. In their home, I knew the meaning of warmth, ease and comfort. There was a front closet with toys - the children made a bee line for that as soon as they arrived and played contentedly for the duration of the visit. The coffee pot was always on. Lunch was simple and delicious - Lebanon bologna and white cheese (from a local butcher shop) for sandwiches spread with butter (instead of mayo) and garnished with radishes. Yummy!

Before we moved from Pennsylvania, Clyde taught me how to drive. And again, Anna was babysitter. I said nothing to my dear hubby about the scheme (he started to teach me but it was too taxing on both our nerves, if you know what I mean). So off Clyde and I go to the police headquarters to take the driver's test. There I was, a 29 year-old mama of four, driving a Volkswagen Campmobile with a 72-year old instructor at my side. The officer likely passed me either for spunk or out of pity (for Clyde). Just imagine hubby's surprise when I picked up the car keys and headed for the grocery store leaving him as babysitter later that week.

And one more thing I must consider - a continuing and immeasurable treasure. Anna took the time and effort to teach me how to knit and crochet. I recently renewed my acquaintance with yarn and hook, using the hook she gave me starting out. What joy to think of Anna with every stitch and row. She was an excellent teacher. I will never knit socks on the porch in the dark of evening, needles clicking and flying as Anna said her mother once did; but oh, the practical, creative pleasure this gift of learning brought me. Dear hubby says every skill you learn you can keep for future benefit. Some skills come more dearly and last a lifetime.

What a blessing it becomes, remembering Anna - for the sweet person she was, for all the difference she made in a young woman's life and all the ways her example and influence has continued to enrich my life since first we met.

Leaves Are Turning...

2010-10-12T16:06:00.002-04:00

The changing colors of autumn are beauty to behold. The hues are not as vibrant as are sometime seen on these West Virginia hills, due to dry weather and warmer temperatures. They are lovely nonetheless. Yesterday a dear friend and I sat on an outdoor bench and watched as brown birch and sycamore leaves settled on soft breezes all around us. Soaking up the atmosphere of His creation, especially in this season, restores one's soul by varied senses. The fleeting lilts of birdsong scattering through the dawn, the splash of Indian Summer across the canvas of the hillside, the gentle rustle of landing leaves, the rich scent of the woodland's russet carpet; the blue-lit sky of afternoon sunshine, the rhythmic tunes of twilight insects. No way to hurry through all that beauty. No way at all.

Leaves are changing -- turning color day by day, twisting in the wind as they flutter to the ground. Life is changing - moving in a cadence each its own. If there be some tinge of sadness in the tumbling, turning leaves, there is also hope - for their journey nourishes tomorrows as they settle down to sleep. And like the song says, "I don't know about tomorrow ... ... ... but I know Who holds tomorrow in His hand."

Leaving changes -- and takes a turn at all things familiar. It's October. It has been over thirty years since the tides of autumn brought the passing of a mother. Each October since brings back to heart the changes that her leaving has made in daily patterns. These days the memories are comforting, sweet and gentle; the time for thought a blessing of vibrant memory and closely held love - hers for all her family and yes, for me. It was so difficult in the beginning, but now it seems October was the perfect month for her leaving and the changes that ensued.

Leaves are turning, sands are sifting, songs are drifting. Take time for shifting seasons through October. Souls of faith sustained upon the gentle winds of autumn, will yet turn and settle softly in His reassuring arms of Grace and Beauty.

GETTING THE CART BEFORE THE HORSE

2010-10-09T17:35:00.001-04:00

In the general scheme of quilty things, a quilt top is completed before another is made from the remnants/bone pile. But, in this topsy-turvy week I put the cart before the horse and made this baby quilt from the leftovers of a larger incomplete top.

The other top? Twelve 16-inch blocks are faithfully sewn from a combination of the birthday gift fabric from my twin sis and hand-dyed fabrics from her late husband's stash. The pieces blended very sweetly, so I will call it the Brady-Leighton Two-Step. Slight delay in assembly comes from Mama not making up her mind. I an undecided about sashing between the large blocks and/or the size of the outer border(s). It needs to grow a bit to become a queen or double; and that will mean finding additional fabric to blend the whole. Off to the back burner it goes.

As for the baby quilt, since it is the cart before the horse and has little wheels in each corner, I think, for whimsy sake, we ought to name it: "The Pink Pony Cart-Wheel."

Meanwhile, my Lord knows how to keep all things in perfect order...He provides the gracious change of autumn, and will ever continue to order His creation in due season to His honor and glory. How refreshing!

PHILIP'S FAIR SHARE

2010-10-03T18:55:00.002-04:00

Having 20 grandchildren (17, three with mates) may make it seem unlikely to be positively fair to each of them. Still we don't lose sleep over equal division of attention on that score. We love them each dearly and do our best to show them so at every opportunity. And love is not an equal opportunity employer, it is a constant of heart that cannot be measured or hidden.

On with the story. This is the counterpart to Tim's "Head for the Hills." Same process, different hues. As yet unsettled on a name for it, I rather hope it doesn't end up with something so mundane and "fair share"! Oddly, it did not turn out as I had envisioned beforehand (as Tim's did); but I still like it and think Philip will too. There's a really cool print with shells and snails (several years back it could be "Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails," but that's now far too juvenile for this handsome teen) and the blue batik works for me as well. We shall see what the boys think, eventually.

Now on to other schemes and things. Maggie beckoned this afternoon and for want of any other inspiration, I made ten crumb blocks. Having cut 5-inch squares from random pieces, it seemed 5-inch crumb blocks would partner with them nicely. The crumb blocks in the boy's tops were cut 4-1/2 inches and it was amazing the difference 1/2 inch made ... I do think I much prefer the smaller ones. But maybe they will grow on me. The nice thing about crumb blocks is that they are scrap users and space fillers - little sewing snacks to chew on between projects, no pressure attached. So there's time to grow accustomed. If the larger blocks don't grow on me, they can be trimmed down to fit former fancy.

From teenage boys' orange/brown/green and blue/green/red ... off to prissy pink and yellow. That's where I'm headed once a pattern choice is settled. Meanwhile, leaves are falling, air is cooling, there's a little fire in the stove and DH is making music splitting hickory. Did you know a maul can sing?

ANOTHER LITTLE QUILT STORY

2010-09-23T09:16:00.000-04:00

"Head for the Hills"

Every so often, or more accurately, never so very often, we get to put something together that just flies into place. This quilt started out with 40 crumb blocks (to which I needed to add just two more when the design was worked out). Those were done in about two day sessions. Four patches were completed with fabric patterned with leaves and bark. DGS Timothy loves the woods, you see. Hence, the title "Head for the Hills."

Have I told you about the great fabric stash boon received from my twin sister? Her dear husband was a quilter...he hand pieced and was an absolute artist. After his passing DS parceled out most of his quilting fabrics between our older sis and me. How very generous! I have spent literally hours handling, sorting, dreaming over the lovely fabrics. Greg was very fond of gray and orange - colors I rarely buy. But his very masculine palette is perfect for 13 grandsons! I've started with Greg's Swiss cheese assortment...fabric from which he'd fussy cut many little triangles and diamonds for the perfect color/design of his need. Swiss cheese, between the holes, makes for good crumb blocks and paper piecing.

All that would account for the fun in the present quilt. But I did move on to the luscious batiks for the larger squares and borders. Good fabric just seems to melt together under the presser foot. So Smoothly. What joy to handle.

Nor can the happy prospect of Tim's reception be discounted in the effort. I thought lovingly of him with every stitch. He may not be surprised, but he's sure to be very pleased. Since he is quite tall I added a header/footer strip for added length. After getting it all assembled, it occurred to me that I could have accomplished the same length with another row of blocks...but I did want to work in that very stunning autumn stripy piece separately from the rest.

This quilt story continues with a like design for Tim's brother Phil. Philip's version will feature blues, greens and reds. The crumb blocks are made and all the other squares cut. It should proceed with equal pleasure and ease, e'er long. These brothers are great pals, so it is easy to make them peas in a pod of different hue.

Nines is right ... it is as much the thought of person for whom it is fashioned, as anything else, that makes the process of quilting delightful.

STRINGS OF THREE

2010-09-18T17:58:00.000-04:00

Unlike my dear sis, this week brought me something else besides trouble in a string of three. Three crib-size quilt tops, to be exact.

The first two were merely sashed and bordered from blocks a friend had done with her embroidery machine. One was ABC's in bold colors. The other was cross stitch style, babies bundled to look like story book animals. So cute. Then to round it out, I picked up the left-over theme fabric, cut it into squares and added four-patches from my 2-1/2" light scrap bin. Pieces of the same 2-1/2" strips make a pieced binding as well.

It seemed enough for the time being. Now my "finished tops" bin is nearly full, so I must take it off to the quilter's .. maybe as soon as next month.

Maggie is taking a break today. Just the same a bin with crumb blocks sets at her elbow. You never know when she might change her mind.

PROJECT BINS

2010-09-15T15:09:00.000-04:00

We all have them. Some of us have them coming out our ears. I am not quite overrun or overwhelmed by the quilting bins. The painting bins may be another matter.

Nonetheless, imagine my surprise to find, when bringing up a bin today, this baby project was nearly completed. Age. I remembered trimming the squares and cutting the sashing; but did not recall having assembled the rows. It was a simple job to join rows and add borders.

The blocks came courtesy of Sandy J's embroidery machine. The ABC's were so brightly stitched (indeed they look like they might glow in the dark), a bright hue seemed suitable for sashing/balance. The name, no surprise here, will be "Now I Know My ABC's ... next time won't you sing with me."

Another set of blocks similar to these awaits - the next ones are 'cross-stitched' bundled babies in little animal suits. I trimmed them, cut the yellow sashing and put them in a project bin. Some new day they may call out my name.

MY SENTIMENTS EXACTLY

2010-09-03T09:09:00.001-04:00

Anniversaries are by nature very sentimental occasions. Yesterday was the 47th anniversary of our wedding day. A good friend offered some good advice. He said, "Don't look forward to the 50th so much that you miss the joy of today."

Isn't that just so right! We tend to plan for projected events, and sometimes in anticipation of the exceptional, sweep the ordinary right under the rug - under-appreciated. There is nothing ordinary about our everyday blessings. Indeed, "count your blessings" is an impossible task for our blessings are infinite.

DH often remarks that he is the most blessed man in the world. As his wife, that must make me the most blessed woman in the world. Besides the children and grandchildren he considers high on the list when he makes that statement, I have him. In truth, how blessed we have been.

I am very sentimental about wedding memories, but not wedding details. It is the scope of life, feelings that draw me back - our young love and new beginnings. What an exciting time of life! Followed by young parenthood, watching children grow (a wondrous process), seeing them off to lives of their own, opening arms to their mates and their children. And now embracing grandchildren as they begin, as we began 47 years ago.

I said elsewhere, "I think this marriage thing is working out really well." How thankful am I for the Lord's design; what a blessing. The wisdom of that design becomes clearer with time. I could not love him this much in less than 47 years. We could not know the joy of enduring together, without the passing of time together. It might not have been so...we might have lost sight of our commitment and goal (millions do, and we're yet humans upon this plane; the vicissitudes of life plague all of us).Our life could run a very different course, prompted by different choices or circumstances beyond our control.

But, God is gracious. Point in fact, DH's first heart attack, twenty years ago and subsequent close calls have not yet deprived us of more time together. Our love and appreciation for each other has deepened immeasurably throughout the gift of that time. I hope that it is not just sentimentality, but also reverent gratitude to the Great God who gave me this good man...and every blessing that comes to us in our time together.

Together ... for the better...on our way to heaven. Such was our ambition 47 years ago. How precious to know the joy of all those yesterdays, the goodness of this day ... and the hope for tomorrow.

SOMETHING FOR SARAH JANE...

2010-08-27T16:56:00.003-04:00

The last time I needed a picture of a quilt this size (generous queen), DH spread it on the grass and stood up on the tractor seat. Where is the farmer when I need him? Off being a maintenance man...he's a gentleman of many hats - quite a few many hats, actually.

So, left to my own devices, the picture is of an inferior sort. That's life in the real world.

As always, there is a story behind the quilt. DD hand dyed and cut the yellow/blue blocks which were used for guest signatures at our grandson's July wedding. I assembled the signature blocks into this quilt top. It will go back to DD for quilting. Certainly her quilting will much improve the simple design. The center nine-patch contains quotes from the wedding program and signature blocks are scattered about that. Since there was writing on most of the blocks anyway, I lettered the quilt label on a blue square and just stuck it in with the others.(The quilt's name is "Set Me as a Seal")

After doing a string of small quilts, this one seemed larger than life and grew accordingly. If the quilter wants to trim the outer borders down some, that will be fine with me. I do love these little projects...and I do love getting them to the point where I don't have to make any more decisions. Nine-patch? Twelve-patch? Borders or no? Her turn now...teeheehee.

Anniversary of Gold

2010-08-20T07:56:00.009-04:00

Golden Devotion

Dearest friends and sweet companions
Ever faithful, pure and true;
Valiant in pursuit of honor
On the path love set in view.
Two made one - a golden union,
Image of that Love divine,
Over time so closely melded,
Now e'en souls as one entwine

Devotion - to each other...
Side by side and hand in hand,
Heart to heart through tides and seasons,
Looking t'ward eternal sands.

Devotion - to the children
Given by a Gracious Lord...
Counting every golden moment
Held in trust, with utter joy.

Devotion - as with children
Each grandchild treasured as gold...
Keepers of their growing wonder,
Guardians of their precious souls.

Devotion - to all Christians
For whom fifty years have shown
Countless hours of love and labor
That the Master's cause be won.

Devotion - friends and family
Gathered here tribute to pay,
Thank God for their rare example -
Golden love ... lived day by day.

BIRTHDAY BUYS

2010-08-16T19:08:00.002-04:00

I've reached the stage in my life that I sometimes like to turn decision making processes over to someone else...like spending birthday cash. The first half, I spent on some new accessories for Maggie; the second half I intended to spend on fabric. When they brought the kids half-way to spend a week at the Barn, I handed the cash over to Nines and Sandy with full confidence they could increase my quilt stash with very good choices while I stayed home and played. Shopping is hard work in my book.

We had a wonderful week with the children. Nothing extraordinary (except the company), just a bit of country living with a bit of country cooking thrown in to make them smile. I made some aprons, nightgowns and p.j.s. Grandfather let the girls drive the tractor all by themselves and read them chapters from Farmer Boy (Laura Engles Wilder). We played in the rain and had some rainy day fun inside when it was just too hot and humid to bear the great outdoors. The days flew by for all of us!

Today, I exchanged three precious grand-angels for this. I'll miss my angels excruciatingly, but you gotta admit, this is is a pretty good consolation prize. Great job choosing, girls - and Mama didn't have to make up her mind once! The sweet clear blue/leafy pattern at the upper right is an extra gift from Sandy (thanks so much!); the rest came in fulfillment of birthday wishes from dear twin sis. The rosy greens are very me. The turquoise is a bit of a departure...but I do love it! And aren't those fat quarters just delicious? It will take a lot of dreaming to decide which way to go with them.

I think I have enough mind to decide how to parse and piece all these lovelies ... but not today. Six hours on the road and fourteen quarts of tomatoes canned is enough for today. I'm off to find some mindless sit-down task and fully expect that to be the only sensible decision left for now.

CATHERINE'S COLORS

2010-08-09T20:14:00.005-04:00

"Charmed, I'm Sure."

Not exactly the most original of titles for this little quilt top, but one I'm sticking to for now. The blocks were in a charm pack that was a gift (thank you, Sandy) -- working them up was a breeze. Such funky fun with all the retro shapes and colors! Now why do I think the quilt, in it's completed state should be retro-fitted with a few episodes of "The Mod Squad" or "The Brady Bunch"?

Fingering the retro patterns brought such fine memories. Back in the day (the 70's) we had uprooted our family of six from our Pennsylvania home to return to our birth state of West Virginia. This began the era our children most remember of their beginnings; a place and time that took them from first grade to college. It was a good move. Besides being reunited with our families, we were re-established among our church family - an association that stretched over many years that followed. High on the list of my own memories of this time is my relationship with a very special person ... friend, teacher, mentor, stand-in mother and grandmother to so many within our congregation - a special lady named Catherine. (Unlike Anne of Green Gables, Catherine with a "C" is extraordinary in my book.)

Catherine's Colors were brought back in the designs of these quilt pieces. When I was in my thirties, Catherine, in her generous way, bestowed many gifts of fabric upon me. I soon lost count of all the material she sent my way. Don't remember when or how they came to her, but she passed them on, seemingly delighted to think I would find some use for them. Everything from polyester leisure suiting to sewing scraps to feed sacks - what a treasure trove. Especially those feed sacks. In those days, with four kids in grade school, my piecing hours were numbered, but I was doing a bit here and there between other sewing projects. I do recall cutting letters and zig-zagging them onto a banner to advertise a bean dinner fund raiser at the school. And later a corduroy knotted comforter that got "lost" when loaned as a prop for a high school production of "Fiddler on the Roof."

I probably did not adequately appreciate the feed sacks, though I should have since my own first grade school dresses were made of such. Perhaps I thought they would not preserve well enough for a part in my later quilting ventures. However they made some pretty aprons and pillowcases and school lunch bags at the time...so they did serve some useful purpose before being consigned as dust/cleaning cloths.

Catherine's Colors are appropriately bright. She was not a modern lime green and orange and hot pink kind of lady. No, Catherine was not modern; she was perfectly, wonderfully old-fashioned. Yet she was vivid of life...bright, sweet, caring, sharing, cheerful. Not because she had an easy life, but because she knew His Life Eternal was her purpose. She took her purpose very seriously. She taught us how to be giving and practical: "You don't have to be rich to show hospitality -- anyone can find enough pennies for popcorn and Kool-aid." She was a excellent role model in faith, dedication, compassion and joy. She loved to sing. Contentment and hope are often partnered with singing, don't you think?

As time went on, as life has a tendency to move in diverging directions, Catherine was no longer able (either physically or financially) to live on her own; so she moved out of state to the homes and care of dear daughters. Even when she was away, she was near....sending kind notes of love and encouragement. With every card or letter I could hear her speak my name, feel her love, see her smile, remember her wisdom. Such a good woman!

Retro is all the rage in fabrics these days: Civil War...1940's - 1970-80's.Even feed sack replicas. They're just great! It seems to me we are drawn to the patterns and the colors of former decades largely because of the memories they generate. How refreshing it is to go back and relive, revive those precious ties.

BABY BUNDLERS

2010-08-05T08:27:00.000-04:00

What do you call a small square baby quilt? I remember laying several layers of square baby blankets and folding them over my babies when we went out in cold Pennsylvania weather. They were so bundled up, you could hardly feel the baby in there.

So that''s what I'm calling this smaller version of a baby quilt top ... a baby bundler. It's about forty inches square; made of leftovers. The half square triangles were made long ago with cut offs of pineapple blossom squares, to which I added a few 9-patches of Nines' leftover hand-dyed. (I tried to add enough orange to redeem the pink, Hannah.) When the HST are already done, it takes no time at all whip up a quilt this small - so easy, you could make a whole line of them. I'm not so crazy about the outer border, too pale a yellow; but if I found something better, replacing it would be easy too.

"Rosy Cheeks with Star-Bright Smiles"

Well, Maggie's gone through four bobbins, so that should be sufficiently broken in to get serious about a real project. On the other hand, moseying along, an hour here and hour there, is perhaps better suited to the current climate. I have some embroidered squares given to me by Nnies' friend Sandy (three sets, in fact). While taking it easy, I may trim those up and cut sashing today...let Maggie have the day off.

SHANGHAI BREEZES

2010-08-03T10:19:00.002-04:00

I was having a bit of trouble coming up with a name for this, Maggie's first project. Decided to steal a title from John Denver...always did like that song.

The quilt top is s a break-in project for the new machine and likely incomplete - it needs to grow a few inches with a border. I had made the HST of Asian and DD Nines' hand dyed some months back (they were break-in for HST from a tube process, so I'm breaking new ground on several counts); and sewing up the blocks and joining them with sashing was easy all round.

Maggie's learning curve has been painless, I must say. She purrs right along (DH says she sounds like a bumble bee) and doesn't fuss a speck over extra layers that seams make. Smooth as silk, appropriately. I have ordered a presser foot with 1/4-inch guide as I have a tendency to look away and swivel a scootch every so often.

So this one is named and in the hopper ... wonder what will pop up and grab me next? Something tells me my sewing season will begin long before winter this year.

With border added...

MY NEW FRIEND MAGGIE ...

2010-08-01T16:38:00.004-04:00

As if I weren't already spoiled enough, DH gave me a new sewing machine for my birthday. And since I hope to have a long and fruitful relationship with her, she needed a name. Maggie it is! My new best friend forever. Well, maybe I won't go that far; but we are getting nicely acquainted and she's very likable.

You'll laugh at my decision making process. Choosing a sewing machine is much like picking out a new computer. You have to balance function with flair if you're also counting the cost. And we all count our costs these days. I crossed off embroidery machines as unpractical for me and narrowed it down to two basic Janome models - one twice the price of the other.

DD Laurie suggested I save for the better model by selling a few of my quilts to make up the difference; even offered to help me advertise online. I'm sure that was good advice; but you know, I just couldn't do it. Sell my babies? I mean for a few days there, I thought I might, but no I couldn't. After all I put a share of time and heart in the simplest of creations - and farm them out to strangers? I may one day be pressed to change this viewpoint...but not yet.

When all the family started gathering in for the July, I watched Caitlin helping with all those endless wedding details and just knew "Dragonfly Summers" was made for her. And Abe, sweet Abe, who loves all things red -- Oe's Cabin (which just had to stay in the family anyway) -- would be in ecstasies with a red quilt on his bed. Not for fortune nor for fame ... for family.

The only basic difference in the two machines I considered was the number of decorative stitches available. More stitches would be fun, but also frivolous for my use. When I thus explained my choice, Wayne said, in his simple way, "if that's what you want, order it." How exciting. He didn't have to tell me twice.

Maggie now has a place of honor on a desk my brother made when he was in high school. She basks in full light by the window ... good for my eyes ... and sets at a very comfortable height for what I suspect will be frequent visitations.

And yes, I've begun another quilt top already.

SET ME AS A SEAL

2010-07-23T11:15:00.006-04:00

Set me as a seal on your heart,
Set me as a seal a seal on your soul...

Such were the words sung by the wedding party as they walked forward in the wedding procession. How fitting that the bride and groom, both lovely singers, chose bridesmaids and groomsmen with beautiful voices to proclaim their love and dedication as the ceremony began.

It was a warm afternoon, shadows started drifting over the audience as we began and with no rain, all was well. Song of Solomon 8:6 set the stage for as spiritual a wedding ceremony as could be planned on this earthly stage. A stage of His own creation -- a woodland cove and grassy meadow, inhabited for the hour by His people, joined to celebrate the sacred trust of marriage. A serene bride stood with her father and a gentle groom waited patiently as the best man and maid of honor spoke of marriage commitment and duty. A groomsmen led us in the singing of "The Sands of Time," starting with the verse:

"The Bride eyes not her garment, but her dear Bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory but on my King of grace.
Not at the crown He giveth but on His pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel’s land."

The father of the bride delivered his remarks, then Luke and Sarah read the vows each had written. It was easy to recognize that Luke based his on 1 Corinthians 13, and Sarah engaged the wisdom of Proverbs 31. Sarah's father sweetly lifted her veil and handed her to Luke. We sang another hymn: " God Is a Fountain Whence." At this point the father of the groom finished presiding over the ceremony.

Luke's father was overheard to say later that it was very hard to do your own children's weddings...this makes his second. He did very well, though; choosing as the basis for his thoughts the love theme of Song of Solomon to match the wedding's beginning. He did forget the next hymn on the program, "For the Beauty of the Earth," but that was certainly a small matter. How sweet to see him grin and say, "Well, son, kiss your bride." as he closed.

Throughout the ceremony, prayers were offered by special men: an uncle of the bride, the groom's father and grandfather. All transpired with reverential praise, faith and hope. A once in a lifetime event for a very special couple ... now happily joined in marriage.

A joyful reception followed and with the singing of "Blessed Be the Tie" the newlyweds departed on their great adventure of a new life together. How exciting!

MY HEART LEAPS UP

And yet, and yet....I must confess there was a part of this day that was more thrilling for me than this lovely wedding. As happy as the events of the afternoon made me, there was joy beyond measure through the morning that preceded.

The dawn broke with lovely birdsong in the wedding cove; I sat on the benches, soaking up His glory and their praise; then dared add my own prayers of thanksgiving, petitions for blessings on us all. Later, friends and family of the bride and groom (around 60 in number) met together with the church in Clendenin - an hour of song, scripture reading and prayer followed by our regular Sunday morning worship service. The rafters rang with the glad voices - among whom were all but four of our own (those four being well represented by the two oldest siblings of their clan). Our youngest son guided the services, one grandson preached, several other sons and grandsons took leading parts as needed. No feeling can compare to gathering with children in spiritual communion.

My cup runneth over ... to God be the glory!

LIKE ... ... ... MAGIC!

2010-07-17T11:29:00.006-04:00

I think myself not at all superstitious; nor do I believe in magic. Whimsy, yes - magic, no. Yet we have experienced a month of magical events -- thanks to the willing hearts of family and friends who lent their time, talents, hands and backs to pull off an enchanted forest wedding for our grandson and his bride.

DD Laurie and DGD Audrey arrived a month ahead of festivities to help set the stage. They started with the Barn. Like magic, ten years of clutter disappeared from the lower level; including boxes packed from our last move, lots of junk and no small amount of dirt and sawdust. Without that clutter the floor was transformed with space for woodworking tools and storage shelves. And did I mention a clear path through on both sides? Now, when I take down laundry or step up on the treadmill, I look around and shout, "I love you, Laurie!" Hard, hard work is a precious gift, (especially on older parents' behalf) don't you know.

Just the beginning! A trip to the Farmers' Market and Garden Centers of several stores yielded annual blooms for planting. No magic, just labor. Plant them in large pots, shelter them from the noonday sun and behind the garden fence (away from deer) and water them daily to ensure full, presentable growth for the wedding venue. These plantings were icing on the cake - the cake was seven acres worth of mowing and trimming all around. Grandfather did much of that before company started arriving; including hand raking a back breaking amount of cut grass when our neighbor hay reaper failed to keep his annual June hay cutting appointment. The groom was intent on as natural a landscape as possible, however, so most of the grass cutting was done well ahead of the wedding date. Good deal, as more pressing tasks were afoot.

Next, mother and grandfather of the groom (DH & DD) set their sights on arch and arbor designs. Drawn by the groom on his last visit, Laurie was interpreter of her son's schematic. She and her dad pulled red cedar and poplar boards out of the shed, ripped them down to size, sawed and planed and sanded; marking each upright, slat, brace and header. The arbors' sections were sealed, the arch awaited construction before being painted white. Benches were needed too, so Grandfather set out with his handy chainsaw - I'm quite suspicious that is his very favorite tool; he gets this gleam in his eye as he goes to the woods, saw in hand. He cut a couple poplars for posts and enough planks were found among stored timber for top seating; they too were sanded and sealed. Bench parts were set in the meadow and so began the sweet wedding chapel in the cove.

Inside the Barn, DGD Audrey and I played and piddled...painting on slates and signboards, making aprons, slicing cucumbers, baking cookies, etc. In truth, my whole month was the easiest of parts - that's why I'm calling it magic. How could so much be accomplished with so little effort? Easy enough when others are shouldering the work!

A week before the wedding, bride, groom, bridesmaids and groomsmen began arriving. Together they assembled arch and arbors, nailed down benches, made wedding cake, arranged bouquets and decor. We shared a meal together at least once daily with DD Laurie the master planner/provider of great menus - a daunting task indeed as the number grew from four to forty and more by the weekend. But DD Laurie excels at such provision, deliciously and with flare.

Family and friends were all present and accounted for by Saturday. The groom's folks had rented a local house for the month and most of the guys camped there; the bride and her maids slept (or not) in the Barn with DH and I downstairs. Spare cousins joined the wedding party at one place or the other and the rest found hotel rooms or other friends and family willing to board them. There would have been a time when families lived within sight of each other so such random arrangements were unnecessary. Still, we had time enough together to come pretty close to filling that nostalgic image even with folks coming from California, Florida, Missouri, Indiana, Ohio, Virginia, Tennessee, Texas, Georgia and New Jersey - ah, the magic of airplanes, autos and interstate highways.

A group effort may indeed make work disappear like magic. No words will describe the sweetness of seeing good and loving people joined in a common objective. Everyone here wanted to make preparations for the finest wedding day possible for Luke and Sarah Jane. The stage was set at the farm, the reception room was beautifully decorated just down the road, and the food for the reception was washed, sliced, diced and divided between counters and refrigerator. All was in readiness. After an evening wedding rehearsal, we enjoyed cleverly assembled gourmet boxed dinners in happy fellowship on the grounds of Teelside.

The wedding day is another story - one which I choose not to taint with even a hint of "magic." It was extraordinary in every way from start to finish...and finishing that story will wait for another entry.

PASS IT ON

2010-06-22T14:28:00.002-04:00

When I was a child these were called “pillow slips.” They were line-dried, sun-bleached a dazzling white, starched and pressed to a smooth, fragrant finish before slipping on feather pillows when the bed was changed.

This set of slips belonged to my mother and were made for her by my twin sister. That makes them very special, wouldn’t you say? They are on their way to a new home. They are going to someone very special: the lovely young lady who, Lord willing, on July 11, will become my third granddaughter-in-law. It just so happens that her wedding colors are yellow and blue, so it’s a perfect fit for the precious bride. We’re not given much to “in-laws” around here, though. Just as we have four children born to us and their spouses who became our own when gifted by marriage; we do and will think of her as a welcome new granddaughter.

It’s summer and family reunion time. The crocheted collar will go to the family reunion auction. A couple years back I made one for a cousin who seemed very pleased to receive it…perhaps another cousin will consider picking it up as a reunion remembrance.

Family traditions and remembrances are often the simplest of things tied to small items that generate deep affection with their connections. Very often our dear treasures began as a wisp of thought or action. Family love is precious … pass it on!

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LAUNDRY AND STRAWBERRIES

2010-06-11T20:51:00.005-04:00

Nearly all of my sewing/piecing gets sandwiched in between the sundry items that appear on my Barnside to-do list. I’m thankful that the list is rarely so heavy or lengthy that there’s no room for at least a few seams…between times.

About the quilt top: the squares (back to those old-faithful HST stars) were done some weeks ago, so today I worked out starry sashes between loads of laundry. Just as I was about to join the rows, DH brings in a few gallons of strawberries. Guess it was time for a strawberry break.

Our “big as peaches” strawberries from Gurney’s are something of a disappointment. In size, they are more like radishes than peaches, and small radishes at that. DH sent a note off this afternoon telling Gurneys the only thing whopper about these strawberries is the story the salesman wrote when he was trying to sell them. [Can’t blame DH for wanting a refund…he’s put a lot of time, work and expense tending that patch for such little return.] On the up side, the berries are nice and red on the inside and make lovely juice with just a little sweetening. Without any sweetener, it's close your eyes and try to guess the flavor. I know, ‘cause I tried a few as I was capping them. (Like the man said, it’s no sin to taste test a few as you go.) They get capped – and tested – and sent off to the freezer or refrigerator for eating sooner or later. I’m thinking they’d make very good ice cream….

Back to the quilt…it will take its place (third) in my “baby quilt stash.” The grandchildren are getting married and it’s reasonable to suppose there will one day be great- grandchildren. (We still like to do things in that order in this family:). It may be some time yet before they come along, but with seventeen grand-angels in line, I figure I need a head start on the great-angels’ baby blankets. (Pity the daughters and granddaughters who will be stuck with the task quilting the stack.) Don’t know how many I’ll get to pass along personally, but that doesn’t matter to me so much. The Lord knows…and I can work with a full heart toward whatever future is in store.

This quilt’s name is: “Catch a Falling Star - and put it in your pocket.” It is unlikely that its beneficiary will ever know Perry Como’s whimsical tune of the same title; but that precious one will know that I loved him/her long before birth. Every child should know they were loved long before they were born!

A LITTLE BIT OF FUN...

2010-06-10T14:29:00.004-04:00

Sometimes a girl just needs a little bit of fun. You know what I mean - something that seems productive, but doesn't take break the energy or time bank. This "Li'l Bits" wall quilt qualifies.

It took not too much energy; but a whole lot of patience (for a novice). Still, I'm glad I kept plugging along to the finish line for a completed project - that's always a lot of fun. This done, I have a second pattern (thanks Sandy) and am more confident about approaching it.

Next time I will NOT use the paper copy (I made in case I messed up a block) but the tissue paper copy. Getting all those tiny computer paper scraps loose from the back was very time intensive! That's what surgical snips and tweezers do pretty well, though.

Since it's a little bit of a quilt, will I be brave enough to quilt it myself? Hm.m.m.m.m.m. That's a novel idea.

THE MAN I MARRIED ...

2010-06-08T08:41:00.002-04:00

• GREW UP A COUNTRY BOY – he knew barefoot summers with frequent swims in Elk River. He shared a single bedroom with all of his siblings, where the cracks in the board walls allowed snow to blow in atop their covers (of quilts and coats) on stormy winter nights.

• HAS ALWAYS KNOWN THE WORTH OF CLOSE FAMILY TIES - next to youngest among seven children of a coal miner and his young wife (I say young because his dad was 30 years his mother’s senior – born in 1885, the same age as my granddad). By all indications his parents were devoted to each other and to their children; a family tradition that remains to this day. Could be why preserving even greater closeness in his own family is paramount to him.

• WAS SHYER THAN SHY AS A YOUNGSTER – he would not ask his Aunt Margaret for a drink of water when his mama’s hands were busy at other things. He pretended to sleep in the car so he wouldn’t have to eat with cousins who were strangers to him.

• BEGAN LIFE WITH THE HEART OF A GIANT AND THE SOUL OF A SAINT – enough said.

• WAS LIKELY THE CUTEST TEEN YOU CAN IMAGINE – big dimple in his chin, slightly crooked smile, amazing blue eyes, an irresistible wink and well groomed crew cut.

• WAS A YOUNG MAN OF UNCOMMON VISION – who soberly set his sights on higher ground early on, knowing where he wanted his life to lead and knowing he could trust the Lord to point in the right direction. Where his shyness held him back; his vision and faith broke the barrier. He could not live for God and be a hermit (or build a life with me). I’m awfully glad he thought beyond being a hermit…

• HAS A BRILLIANT MIND – that seeks to learn more, always interested in every detail; ever searching the nooks and crannies of knowledge that most of us pass over. If activity will keep a brain young, he should never lose use of his; for it never stops.

• HAS ALWAYS KNOWN PHYSICAL ADVERSITY – from early childhood to teenage years to adulthood a series of serious conditions and surgeries have been his lot to overcome. And overcome he does; with quiet courage, pressing beyond pain and limitations. Perhaps, as they say, such vicissitudes build character. I believe he brings character to each challenge and through faith allows that character to grow.

• GREW TO BE AN EXCEPTIONAL PARENT – he is unfailingly strict in principle; and unabashedly abundant in affection. Eternally faithful to his offspring, his charge, he loves deeply, cries tenderly, and prays unceasingly for their welfare. When his head hits the pillow at night, he lifts the name of each child and each grandchild toward heaven in supplication on their behalf. I hope they know that!

• A MAN OF INTEGRITY – he sometimes tells the story of how, in childhood, he told his mama a lie. She taught him the error of that way and it undoubtedly was a lesson very well learned. I cannot imagine him dissimulating in the slightest - any where, any time, any way. As good as his word, his face set like flint for what is true; indeed, for truth. His most difficult struggle in life is awareness of others who have no regard for or allegiance to truth. Truth is his bulwark - an anchor to revere, yet along with devotion, a heartbreaking one. (Psalm 119:136)

• A MAN OF INDUSTRY – his children will tell you their father taught them how to love work. Perhaps (with diminished health) this love borders on obsession. But who can say – it may be that very drive that has kept him out of a wheelchair and in a productive mode so long. This is where brilliance, vision and industry converge. We live in an idyllic home that began as a sketch on notebook paper. He labors to produce ... in countless ways EVERY day. It sometimes bothers me that I cannot keep pace with him -- and then I remember, I never could.:)

• A MAN WHO WILL SANCTION NO “FOOLISHNESS” – his quintessential concept of “foolishness” may be charmingly homespun at times. It could be summarized just so: anything displeasing to the Lord, lacking in faith or counterproductive in practice is foolish. Like all of us, he has known his own foolish moments through life; but I’m thinking he’s grown far and away beyond their pull or influence.

• A MAN OF WISDOM - whose practice and counsel are worthy of attention.

• A MAN OF TENDER COMPASSION – I have often seen him greet beloved men with an embrace and a kiss on the neck. Those good men treasure his regard and are encouraged by his love, no doubt; and I thrill to see his kindness so revealed. His eyes brim often with anguish of others; if you need a sympathetic hand he will provide it with gentle sincerity.

• THE MAN THAT I MARRIED is the man that (over the last fifty years) I’ve come to ADMIRE GREATLY and TRUST IMPLICITLY and LOVE FULLY … I’m sure I always will.

WAKING UP ON TANNER...

2010-06-05T19:45:00.008-04:00

...DREAMING OF A GENTLE TIME

It’s early June and the weather is already very summery. The sun is up; the cock is crowing, the birds are singing, the church building waits all fair and holy down the road. I’m just a kid and have far to go in this life …but I think this just may be one of the most memorable dawns of a lifetime.

Fifty-plus years later, it seems clearly so still. Certainly that memory has revisited as often as any from my childhood, or since. Have you ever known a space when time stood motionless? When some unknown awe brought eternity almost near enough to touch? Where all about the present was suspended; you feel, if you cannot see, the Hand that created the vision before you? Yeah, it was that kind of moment. Perhaps these days it would be called an epiphany.

And so it is - perhaps every child thinks their time at “Grandma’s House” is magical beyond definition. But this well remembered prospect is simply too down-to-earth to be mere magic. I could not, in a lifetime, describe that Sunday morning image from the upstairs window, because remembering is itself a baptism that stirs countless ripples all the way through the years and through my heart. Allow me to connect a few dots…

Ah, the excitement of a weekend on Tanner; staying at Grandma and Grandpa Miller’s, visiting with aunts, uncles, cousins; looking forward to unannounced kin dropping by. What wonderful people live in my family tree! What we all knew first – humble, genuine living. Easy – never; faithful – ever! It is doubtful our relatives ever thought or imagined at the time how unique and special they were. Maybe I couldn’t guess either, but I loved them all dearly even in my ignorance.

How natural to begin by peering out the upstairs window and then review the ripples swirling all around.

Look down that road! Close your eyes and see:
• Grandpa’s hands and Grandma’s hair
• Aunt Minnie’s smile, when she first brought her boys to visit
• The uncles’ tall shadows across the grass
• Cars slowing down for holes/puddles as they drive the road
• Haystacks in the meadows and on the hillsides
• Folks walking to church in pretty weather

Stand still and call back the sounds:
• Grandpa’s foot tapping out time as he sang on the porch
• Grandma’s laughter
• The neighbor’s friendly “har-ree.”
• The dasher’s clap when butter was a-churning.
• Fresh milk hitting an empty pail and kittens mewing for their share
• The back door banging and potato peelings landing in the slop bucket
• Chairs scooting under the table when the hands came in for dinner

Breathe deeply; absorb the home-bred aromas:
• Breakfast biscuits and supper cornbread
• Sizzling pork chops or fried chicken
• New-mown hay
• Wisteria and lilacs
• The woods after a rain.

And (for the very brave) set your taste buds back on:
• Black walnuts
• Creamed tomatoes
• New potatoes
• Corn on the cob
• Pickled beans
• Real molasses and just pulled taffy

A stroll down memory lane may begin with a single snapshot of mind. I do remember most of these things…or remember my Mom’s memory. The rest we will just chalk up to dreamy imagination; for I think Tanner is a place that lends itself to most pleasant dreams and remembrances.

SATURDAY SHOPPING...

2010-05-30T15:54:00.003-04:00

I remember when .... Saturday was grocery shopping day. Dad took Mom to Kroger (she didn't drive in those days) for food supplies and they were usually home not much after noon. That meant no hot lunch. [The kids wouldn't mind anyway - we didn't eat hot lunches offered at Taft Elementary on school days. Too pricey? We carried peanut butter or bologna instead.] Guess Saturday lunch was often sandwiches from fresh "light bread" then. I also remember opening pork & beans and eating them cold (or room temperature). No weenies, just beanies. I still like them that way best. Sometimes we had Vienna sausages or potted meat - which were a treat since little processed meat, other than bologna was on the storing list. We never felt slighted or poor, though. Mom's Sunday dinner always made up for the different Saturday menu. Especially her pies.

Wayne recalls that his mom went grocery shopping once a month (when the check came from the mines). She'd get a Greyhound bus down to Clendenin and the store keeper would use his truck to deliver her and the groceries back up the road (about five miles to Queen Shoals) at the close of business that day. Once a month necessities for a family with seven children was a pretty good load, I reckon. Nothin' fancy - dry beans, flour, sugar, other staples, but there was usually a bag of candy (whatever would stretch out most, like those little orange marshmallow peanuts) as a treat. Doubt that stretched more than one day with seven youngsters.

I went shopping today - all the way to Barboursville. My friend Steph and I met for a nice breakfast and she did the driving from there. At Hobby Lobby, I headed straight for the fabric aisles and likely spent much more than our folks would spend for necessities, though my yardages were not large. Well, for some of us fabric IS a necessity. I had a little baggie with slips of cloth to be matched - all UFO's (unfinished objects in quilters' terms); mostly something to go with squares already sewn and lacking sashing and/or binding - that sort of thing. Found some good deals and some great matches.... and amazingly came home with three pieces of RED. One pattern just wouldn't suit when there are three different shades of red in three separate projects.

Try explaining that to a husband who had to get his own Saturday lunch. I figure it was red ... so Grandma Oe would understand.

[Actually, DH said not a word about my purchases, sweetheart that he is. But it makes a good story.]

DRAGONFLY SUMMERS ...THAT FLUTTER BY

2010-05-20T13:20:00.010-04:00

That seemed a likely title for a quilt of tropic colors made out of jelly rolls with a design sufficiently vague as to split its personality between dragon or butter fly-bys. Once you've tried a jellyroll, you can't get enough, right?

Summer is upon us. The front balcony lends itself to dreams and memories -- family reunions, visits from grandchildren, trips to Pocahontas County, fried chicken picnics, blackberry cobblers, lemonade and iced tea, homemade ice cream, fresh green beans and vine-ripened tomatoes. Especially tomatoes. Yes, I'll take it all! Nothing greedy about me...

This is one of those special summers that is to include a brand new experience for Teelside acres: A Grandson's wedding. Of course we're elated that the bride and groom chose to be wed under our very noses – out in the meadow in front of our own favored cove where two woodsy hillsides meet and form deliciously deep shades under sycamores, dogwoods and poplars as a backdrop. Perhaps there will even be enough water in the stream to add its melodies to our Joy and Love and Worship. A thrilling prospect!

Meanwhile, lots of plans are afoot. The stage is to be set with arches, arbors and benches for seating. Several trees are ringed for cutting (their towering over the Barn have made DH uneasy for a while now) and their trunks will be cut in sections to serve as posts for the benches. Plans were drawn by the groom for arches, etc.; he will return to complete the central arch, but has agreed to trust his Grandfather with some prep work. Grandfather’s tools and noggin will be hummin’ soon.

As for yard work, it may take every week between now and mid-July to trim the premises all around. Indeed we should solicit all 13 grandsons as groundskeepers the week previous. (That would be a dozen trimmers and Abe as water boy). After the festivities, wedding trappings will be relocated to cove or orchard or yard or recycled to woodsheds for burning. Either way they should serve as reminders of the new snapshots for the family album that will warm our hearts and hearth in days ahead.

The best part of this – short of having family together, which is always just the very best part of anything – is the knowledge that all the work and plans are in other capable hands. I get to sit on the front balcony, drink iced tea and love every minute of it as it flutters by.

ALL BRAND NEW

2010-05-09T18:16:00.003-04:00

Driving to meeting this morning, Wayne I were talking about how pretty the light green hills of spring were this lovely Lord's day. Then he said, "Every one of those leaves are brand new, they've never been here before." I do love that man! And his comment prompted me to think on and write these lines.

A NEW LIFE

Gentle green hangs on the breeze
Floating softly through the trees;
Branches bathed in budding light
Bring to Spring their lovely sight.

Every leaf is shiny, new
Moist with gentle rain and dew –
Tender growth lately alive
Breaking out, with Joy revived.

Resurrection, Praise His name!
Here on earth His power proclaims
Once again with gilding ray
Winter’s night has turned to day.

Gentle green is born again
Hope and glory grandly reign;
Singing forth, sweet blooms and birds
Declare their anthems without words.

Beauties wrought by His design
Mark afresh that place in time
Where life returns again to bless
His world in Grace and Righteousness.

Gentle green whispers of Love
Spread in mercy from Above –
A timely summons gently borne
On wings of Spring for everyone!

See now the promise of the Lord
Believe and trust his Precious Word,
As surely as these gentle greens
Our souls will prosper – born again.

Not just in seasons come and gone,
Not here upon this plane alone –
We’ll find eternal life and bliss
In Heav’nly Light greater than this.

09 May 2010

ALL HER WINSOME WAYS

2010-04-24T09:49:00.003-04:00

Naming Quilts

Quilting is such a heritage with us…begun of necessity by grandparents generations ago; piecing remnants from sewing and fabric from worn clothing outgrown or worn through at knees or elbows. Sewn by hand, the quilts or comforters were hand quilted or knotted with yarn, often stuffed with a worn blanket and backed with feed sacks. Colors were what they were, whatever was on hand. Grandma Oe liked some red in hers – she had an eye for beauty. I’m thinking ancestors had little time for conjuring up quilt labels in those days. They did well to get the chores done and lay by blankets for cold weather.

By the time you’ve cut, pieced and quilted, you have developed a standing relationship with a quilt. For me, getting them pieced is the fun part (I have daughters and granddaughters enough to do all the quilting) and assigning a name is the icing on the cake. Sometimes the title relates to color or pattern; sometimes it speaks to the intended owner of the quilt. Always it is a matter of whimsy of the quilt maker. I’ve taken to Nines’ practice of putting names, places and dates on the quilt label as a way of building legacy. I hope on the label the title will appear as a peek into my mind (now there’s a scary thought) and the passage of time.

I could never match Grandma Oe’s penchant for unusual children’s names (having only four and a very traditional husband); but I try to employ her creative genes in quilt naming. To name a few: Tumble Weed, Fifth Child, Blueberry Lattice, Singing Stars and Dancing Waters, Teelside Ties, Shaggy Cowboys, Mulberry Harvest, Rainbows & Lollipops, White Picket Fences & All things Rosy; Peppermint Stars – a Cabin for Oe, Far Side of the Hill, Crumb Pudding, All Her Winsome Ways. There are 48 quilts on my list and I’m sure I’ve forgotten several. Yes, it is an addiction.

Should you have in your possession a precious quilt of known origin that has no label, take a moment to label it. A fine point permanent marker on a backside corner will do. If you write there what you know about the quilt – its maker and an approximate date – it’s history will be preserved when you pass it on.

ALL ABOUT BROTHERS ...

2010-03-29T11:16:00.004-04:00

Joseph, Daniel, Jacob, Paul, John & Abraham

I had Nina pose this picture as a counterpart to The Miller Uncles. It's just too much a coincidence NOT to reflect on the beautiful grandsons who are growing into fine young men, like their great uncles.

I choose now to give them one word descriptions (left to right): JOE - the worker, DAN - the preacher, JACOB - the naturalist, PAUL - the thinker, JOHN, the inventor and ABE - the apple of everyone's eye.

ALL ABOUT UNCLES...

2010-03-26T16:05:00.004-04:00

GALE, ORBERT, DAVID, BON, CORLEY, BLY

What is good for the goose is good for the gander, so there needs to be a sequel to “All about Aunts.” It’s only fair. And we have the perfect picture to accompany the memories. Again, thoughts are but snippets of childhood recollection and later reflection; but here goes.

The “all in a row” photo has been an all time favorite snapshot. Such handsome men! Did Grandma Oe’s heart leap up every time she looked at it? Mine does still.

Uncle Gale – he was oldest and lived closest to Grandma and Grandpa Miller, so naturally memories of him are plentiful. The quintessential teacher (for close to a century), I often pause to regard his curiosity, intellect and kindness. All of those attributes were expanded by his counterpart - our ever kind and gentle Aunt Ruth. I do suppose Uncle Gale encouraged me to be good as much as anyone in life, by his generous praise. And his most frequent greeting at Miller Reunions was a smile, a hug and a gentle, “I love you.” Quite a man, that one!

Uncle Orbert – what I know best of Uncle Orbert, is how much one sister (my Mom - Aunt Jessie) loved him. She once told how he liked to come in from farm work, wash up, put on a clean shirt and bake a cake. I think him particularly handsome and a good match with pretty Aunt Bonnie, whom he adored.

Uncle David – he looked most like Grandpa Grover to me, though smaller in stature. One time when he’d flown in to visit family and was at our house on Newhouse Drive, he inspected my hands for any sign of arthritis … how significant of his concern for Aunt Bonnie and care for others. He was a valiant heritage keeper; working with wood, preaching, always industrious. Our David dropped by to see him one time while traveling in Arizona, he so enjoyed talking with Uncle David and took some of good photos for us to cherish. Pretty cool.

Uncle Bon – he so often talked, with a distinctly different voice and that little half smile, like he had some great secret afoot. Like the others, he never stopped learning or creating good conversation. Personally, I think his secret was Aunt Janet – what a beauty he reeled in there! And how could I forget our little do-si-do to the tune of family bluegrass players at the Family Reunion … I can well imagine that was the only public dancing either of us ever did; and I'm so glad we did it!

Uncle Corley – such a practical, down to earth man, who contributed so richly to life for all his kin. I loved his laugh, and the pleasure he took in people and his gentle insight. Several pieces of his woodcraft hang around the Barn to keep me in touch with his warmth. And he, along with the rest, chose his wife well. Corley and Justine … it’s hard to say one without the other. Remembering his wedding day, he smiled with happily brimming eyes saying, “that was a good day.” How touching.

Uncle Bly – was everyone’s sweetheart. Youngest, stalwart and handsome, it was pretty easy for young nieces to develop a near crush on him. But I’m glad, glad, glad he chose Mavis. Our Craig reminds me of Uncle Bly – affectionate with a good sense of humor. I especially enjoy the memory of feeling petite in Uncle Bly’s big bear hug and hearing his deep voice rumble a greeting.

There you have it…hardly ALL about uncles, but perhaps enough to kick-start random memories of your own.

SHIFTING PATTERNS

2010-02-04T16:36:00.004-05:00

[Written for and "shifted" from a family site.]

The following thoughts followed the loss of a favored Uncle, Gale Miller. I say favored (not favorite) because I favored all my uncles and like my Uncle Bly (who sometimes told me I was his favorite niece, with a wink) considered the one present my favorite at the time. Uncle Gale passed away just 19 days before his 100th birthday and like so many of his generation he was an exceptional person. Hence, the following:

SHIFTING PATTERNS

The patterns of life are ever shifting. Change is perpetual, in some ways predictable, in other ways not so much. Change is something we all resist at times. The change that emerges with passing life is inevitable, yet somehow in our heart of hearts it is almost impossible to prepare for it. We cling closely to that which we know and love best…to those whom we know and love best. And so we should.

Someone recently remarked that even coming to this site was sad – so many changes in the patterns of the things we know of life and the ties we’ve made upon this plane. That tinge of sadness is quite rational. In truth, the reason we come here and enjoy this neighborhood so much is that it represents so well the way things were; the way we remember things being; yes, in those good old days.

With Uncle Gale’s passing I have been weighing change anew. And seeing his tribute to Grandpa Grover, the weight was broadened. It comes to me that the loss of these two men represents far more than ordinary shifting of patterns. Not because I love them so – though indeed I’ve always loved them so – but because these men along with other men and women of their generations, represent a very different breed of humanity. They and their womenfolk weren’t like you and I – try as we might, we cannot be like them. We may follow their good examples, but the scope of their lives is indeed irreproducible.

Those men were strong, fearless, honest and faithful. Those women were tough, brave, hardworking and loyal. They knew toil we can hardly imagine; faced dangers that would make us shudder, survived losses and forded streams they seldom mentioned in the retelling of their stories. And all with far less wealth or material gain than the poorest of us enjoy. Sometimes I think the times and hardships of the day shaped their worth, and I’m sure that overcoming adversity played a part. But along with facing the challenges of an austere life – they had mettle, valor born of true faith and conviction of their stand before their Creator. And in their fidelity, they also knew how to enjoy life fully, love deeply, keep learning, sing wholeheartedly and laugh often.

In the end I decided that when Gale and Grover Miller and others of their generations depart this world, the void is felt more crucially than in the passing of ordinary people. They were extraordinary in so many ways…and so they leave a very big hole when they go away. We’d be blind not to feel that true.

But on the other hand, as Aunt Luanne said about her brother, “Haven’t I been blessed to have him so long!” Indeed we have been blessed to know and see in the shifting patterns of life such remarkable men and women. They teach us so much of how to build the best of lives and speak, even in passing, of a better way.

I am so blessed to be able to follow their footprints through the shifting sands of time …into eternity.

SANDS OF TIME

Sands are sifting through the glass
Images of loved ones pass
Gently whispering soft good-byes
E’er they journey to the skies

Such is life and well we know
Tides and patterns come and go:
Blessed birth brings hope and joy
Age and loss our tears employ

We’re born to life that ever lives
Reaching through the time that gives
Wonder, joy, a little pain
We turn to dust, yet live AGAIN

Of all the marvels known to man
None will surpass the Master’s plan
Bestowing peace and hope and love
He measures twice – here and Above

We watch the shifting, changing sands
Rejoice in all the good His hands
Of mercy grant ... from day of birth
The same Hands lead beyond this earth!

PJT 1/31/2010

All about Aunts

2010-01-15T14:44:00.006-05:00

Aunts: Minnie, Carrie and Luanne (with mother Jessie)

ALL ABOUT AUNTS? Not really…there is little possibility of writing all about aunts…just too much to be said.

Even so, I’ve been thinking “way hard” about Aunt Carrie lately. Such thoughts are always pleasant and were enhanced by a conversation with Aunt Luanne. I could not help but be reminded of what pleasant voices are a part of my Aunts’ acquaintance. Aunt Luanne doesn’t sound a day over thirty; Aunt Minnie had a soft husky voice, a voice with a smile inside; Aunt Carrie sounded like, well, Aunt Carrie. She seemed to have an accent all her own, or perhaps it was her laughter that so distinguished her. I do wish I could sit in a circle and hear them each talk again.

But back to Aunt Carrie: she used to send me mail. Her letters revealed her intelligence, creativity, sensitivity and concern for others. One time she wrote in the margin of a postcard, “You have your mother’s hands.” That seemed such a kind and comforting thought to me (and I hope to her). Aunt Carrie, she had very gifted hands … such as run in Miller/Minney bloodstream for both boys and girls. Like others of her generation she could not allow those hands to sit idle long, if ever. What a lovely world of embroidery, crocheting and quilting she turned out. In fair weather she set her hands to tending flowers and gardening. Everything beautiful engaged her eye and heart; became integrated into her daily patterns. Part of that claimed beauty was a very neat house. White-bright linens, shiny floors and clean sinks made hers a space to savor. I often recall the rented cottage at the Shock-Tanner junction – flowers by the porch and a new quilt in the frame; and the Miller homestead closet where her ironed linens awaited use. Aunt Carrie would never have judged her life to be exceptional; but what an extraordinary example and heritage she’s left us. So tell me, can you think of Aunt Carrie and not smile in your heart. No, I didn’t think so.

Now Aunt Luanne is reading this with a hearty amen, without thought of what might be said of her. She would not likely tell you her hands are likewise gifted … as she hasn’t a penchant for needlework that I’m aware of. But oh, she does have gifted hands … hands that have prepared countless Sunday dinners for her family; hands that have written tender words to brothers and other kin – words that bind a family many times over; hands that teach and nurture children (so many over the years) at school, at church, at home; hands that fold in prayer for all the souls she holds so dear. Nor are her hands ever idle. How do I know? Because recently when instructed to get some bed rest she complied about 12 hours and then her hands just had to do something useful – not grandiose – just a simple task like opening cans to make a bit of bean salad.

And another thing…I do not recall every hearing Aunt Luanne’s sweet voice complain about a single solitary thing even when facing some pretty stiff challenges. But yesterday I heard her voice wistfully speak of missing the work her hands would find to do were she but able. Well, she’s shown the way for others to share in her stead and her smiles would spur anyone along that good path.

Hands and voices, smiles and laughter linger still and speak volumes. I hope my heart is listening.

It Must Be December…

2009-12-05T17:37:00.006-05:00

We’re still full to overflowing with lovely Thanksgiving memories. Just made and packaged the first batch of instant spiced tea for seasonal gifting. Gentle piano/guitar carols are playing on the CD. And, we’re having our first snow. Yes, it’s December.

DH is up in the woods hoping the snow will make deer more visible and apt to roam earlier (as in before dark). We have some in the freezer, but with other children, grandchildren expected before month’s end, it wouldn’t hurt to seal up another deer or two for their freezers as well. It’s a good excuse for woods tramping, and since he seems to be less bothered by heart symptoms this week, how can he be denied the pleasure. There is something so soothing about snowy woodlands – until that clump of snow falls down your neck, anyway.

Childish of me, I know, but I do love snow – the fresh air cleanness, the silence, the dreaminess, the calm. Seems to me not many Decembers come to West Virginia without a bit of snow in the first week. This is perhaps a prelude to winter weather that won’t settle in for a while. Does give one room to hope, though!

It’s time to bring in a pine bough or two and add some orange slices, cinnamon and cranberries to the steam pot on the wood stove. Maybe also time to curl up with a wisp or two of childhood fancy? Presents were fewer in those days. I recall one “big” practical present (usually clothing) and as many little things as Mom could stuff, make and imagine on a limited budget. I remember apples, oranges, nuts, homemade fruitcakes, stuffed turkey and colored lights, tinsel icicles on a fresh-cut tree. Anticipation … it was all about happy anticipation.

And with that we choose to forget that rooms were a bit drafty in our cinder block house, space heaters burned in each room on the main floor and still the windows frosted, then melted through the day. We stuffed old towels around the sills of metal framed windows to keep them from dripping on the floor. Two bedrooms up stairs were split between boys and girls, and since there was only one boy and four girls, the girls slept in two double beds in one room. But heat rises so those rooms were always toasty. I don’t remember ever feeling deprived. Our country relatives thought we lived in luxury (and indeed we did) off in the big city of Charleston, but we liked visiting the country tremendously, too.

If December is the time for making a list and checking it twice … the doublet for mine will be still be counting blessings and planning how to share them.

ANOTHER NOVEMBER

2009-11-08T14:23:00.006-05:00

When she walks through the door cloaked in clouds and rain, November may seem dreary. Not so this year. Here at Teelside we've had sunny days, crisp and cool, but sunny. Nights have dipped into freezing and brought down leaves. Still, leaves floating through sunshine lend cheer and peace.

Travels south for a grandson's wedding and visits with DSIL's and DD kept me away for most of the autumn color. Flying back home over the West Virginia hills was thrilling - though not quite so much for me as the returning soldiers (7-months out) that sat across the aisle. And there is yet enough fresh fall scent in the air for absorption. Ahh-h-h-h.

It's hunting season again. DH is gone for hours - watching deer, squirrel, 'possoms and turkeys from his tree stands. He's happy for a dry first of the season as well. Imagine his disappointment when three deer stood 10-20 feet away and he had not the strength to pull back the bow. Age is tricky. That slip, however, was easily corrected by dropping the tension on the bow back a few notches/pounds before venturing out another day.

While DH plays (and prays) in the woods, I sit by the fire reminiscing and reading. I'm enjoying that, though I keenly miss the handwork postponed by a sprained wrist. We do miss what we lose use of -- strength of hand or summer glory. Thankfully, most loss comes with a replacement of greater value. The Lord is so gracious that way. Each season brings it's own joy and, passing with time, leaves hope for fresh new sheets upon the calendar.

While I sit by the fire remembering, it's tempting to wish I could drift back and relive those calendar pages. But then that is exactly what I do in memory, isn't it. I wish all changes were easily restored; or that every precious memory would hold through every season; but such is not the way of life. Seasons come and go. And though some seasons bring troubles that settle softly with the leaves, we know the Lord Himself sustains the seasons and will gently heal our wounded hearts.

Wait on the Lord...in due season.

TRIP OF A LIFETIME

2009-09-30T16:21:00.007-04:00

TRIP OF A LIFETIME – ALASKAN CRUISE 2009
Teelside Log, Friday, September 11, 2009

“Plan for flexibility” being the motto of standby travel, we did so by heading for Seattle a day sooner than really necessary, just in case. We lifted off from CRW @ 7:00AM and arrived at SEA @ 10:20AM without a hitch. Before noon we had been shuttled from the airport by the motel and were settled into the Rodeway Inn – not the most luxurious accommodation on the block, but certainly adequate. As Denny’s restaurant was within walking distance; we opted for a mid-afternoon meal there then took a very warm stroll up the hill and around the block.

Bedtime could hardly come soon enough and we slept well. I was up at 6AM and we tootled over to Denny’s again for an 8:30AM breakfast. The air was pleasantly cool so we took a long walk down the hill – just hangin’ out for the morning, awaiting the Snow’s arrival. DSIL & Co. arrived early afternoon and we were off to Denny’s again. We took another walk to the near 7-11 store for sodas and then on the way back to the motel hand-picked dessert: fresh blackberries on vines in the alley. Our bodies were on the west coast, but heads were still on eastern seaboard time and bedtime seemed tardy … we slept very soundly again.

Cruise Log: SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2009
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
12:00nn Weather: Wind 8kts, Cloudy sky, 20°C / 68°F
3:15pm Passenger boat drill
3:45pm Let go all lines, commenced sea voyage

After Sunday services, two private carriers transported us to the dock. Our great adventure was underway. Tagged luggage was whisked away from the trunks of carrier cars and dock to mysteriously reappear in our stateroom later in the day. Registering online made the check-in process brief and painless. We were assigned a group number and waited in a large area to be called for boarding. There were two ships boarding at the same time, but somehow they managed to steer us to the right one. There were cookies and lemonade on the sidelines – the first of seemingly infinite food offerings. We waited our turn for all aboard. Rooms weren’t ready yet, but the scattered boarding meant the Lido Deck (9) with myriad late lunch buffets would not be swamped by 1,500+ guests in one clump. Having already determined this would be my chance to try dishes never before tasted, the first thing on my plate was sushi, rounded out with a small bowl of oriental chicken/rice, then a plate with grilled salmon and spinach. YUM!

Sharing room 4016 with the DBIL/DSIL was easy … like their company. Friends had the cabin next to ours. Tight quarters, like all ships, but we managed to stash clothing in closets/shelves and hide the suitcases under beds. We had a nice veranda and spent some time there every day. Before leaving dock there was the obligatory boat drill at a near station, but were instructed over the intercom to leave life vests behind. Was that because after donning the vests (stored in the bottom of our closets) we’d be too wide to get out the narrow cabin doors? Those in charge were wearing their life vests and could count heads per station which must meet drill criteria. I was feeling uneasy about being in front row separated from Wayne until Bob reminded me of the rule of the sea: “women and children off first.” That done, we returned “home” to watch from the veranda as the ship “let go all lines” and sailed forth from Seattle’s harbor.

The six of us sallied forth about 5:30 for our evening meal in the Vista Dining Room. We were seated at table 189 and introduced to waiters Reza and Agus. After a delightful ‘supper’ (though I am sure they would never call it that – a meal where the waiter puts your napkin in your lap for you must have a fancier name!) we left a request for the same time, table and servers for the week. Our ears were greeted with chamber music as we left the dining room. A nice string quartet was playing in the sidelined Explorer’s Lounge … so there we stood – Wayne with his eyes closed soaking up sound, me watching the sea waves pass hypnotically to the strains of Vivaldi – enraptured!

The evening filled out with a mini-show in the Vista Lounge to give us a sample of programs, music and comedy to come, then it was back to our room. Beds all turned – Wayne had the bunk that dropped down from the ceiling (over Dot and Ken’s poor heads) and I had the sofa, turned out by the veranda doors. It had been a long day and we were ready to turn in. That’s when I fell in love – lying in the bed, rocking to sleep with the waves. Better than codeine, it was a wonderful sweet-float sensation, with no diminished senses. I’m surprised they ever got me to move!

Cruise Log: MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2009
AT SEA
12:00nn Position: 51°30.9'N 1130° 32.3'W
Weather: Wind 6kts, Cloudy sky, 13°C / 53°F

The next meal pattern was established by DBIL/me leaving a bit early for Lido deck coffee (breakfast to follow). We are typical earlier risers and so could claim a table for siblings DH/DSIL to join us. Of course they were well ensconced in conversation as they arrived and we were on our third cup of java. DBIL favors eggs Benedict; I tried eggs Florentine the next day. Generally, I settled on fruit (ate my weight in apricots) cheese and a hard dark “peasant” roll for the day’s first meal. When spouses/siblings arrived I sometimes switched from coffee to Earl Grey tea. Obviously the supplies of food and drink were endless!

Monday was the day to find a way around the ship. DH’s first forage was sick bay – poor baby does not like motion (does not do carnival rides, either). They fixed us up with some meclizine, enough to carry us through the week as half doses were best. Morning weather was lovely and we started our exploration of the ship with a few rounds of Deck 3 where outer decks allowed full circle walking. We made no use of some onboard facilities – casino, bars, swimming pools (for obvious reasons); little use of others, because some amenities get pricey. But it was interesting to browse the shops (whoever could use that much jewelry?), sample the scents drifting from the spa, and check out décor of gathering areas on decks 2-11. You had to go through the casino to get to the dining room (planned, no doubt); the Vista Lounge was really a theater area and aside from stage acts, it also served for several naturalists/natives educational talks and other meetings. There was a nice library; several computer classes offered. A studio-type kitchen arena featured cooking and later cute towel design demonstrations, daily mass for those interested and evening movies. All of this did not mean we never got lost – it’s pretty easy to lose your bearings on a moving target.

Cruise Log: TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2009
AT SEA - SCENIC CRUISING GLACIER BAY
12:00nn Position: 58°50.0'N 1136° 32.8'W
Weather: Wind 19kts, Overcast, 100C / 500 F

This was by far our favorite part of the trip. I’d say second only to Niagara Falls “Maid of the Mist” excursion. We did not disembark, but the ship wended its way through several inlets close to high walls of glacier ice, brief beaches and towering mountains. It was cool with some rain, but the rain did not dispel the beauty. To some the dirt and gravel moving along beneath and before the ice may have lessened the splendor of the glaciers, but not to me. Towers of blue ice formed like 100-foot crystals atop layered sand-sculptures of brown, gray and black. The scenery behind the glaciers was equally breathtaking. At John Hopkins glacier we heard ice calving like great claps of thunder. There were seals on floating ice, but my vision did not stretch that far. We saw whale spouts, but no breaching mammals; a brown bear trotting along the shore at some distance; bald eagles in tree tops. I spied a brown seal very close to the rail of our veranda. Another world….or rather, the same majestic world of our Great Creator!

Cruise Log: WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2009
JUNEAU, ALASKA, USA
5:18am Safely docked
12:00nn Weather: Winds 5kts, Overcast sky, 12°C / 52°F
6:39pm Let go all lines, commenced sea voyage

First day in port. It seemed strange to be docked at land again. You wake up and there you are – quite still beside a dock bedecked with bus stops where guides were preparing to hock their tour tickets; tram lines that disappeared in the fog at the top of the high slope and, beyond the parking lot, shop after shop after shop. End of season sale signs proclaimed: The tourists are coming, the tourists are coming!! But before shopping, we did a bus tour out to Mendenhall Glacier. The bus driver’s dialog wasn’t much aid behind fogged windows, but I did catch a glimpse of the sign and building for the Juneau church which heartened me somehow. From the bus stop, we walked a trail where bears had been but were no longer expected, since there was a lull between salmon runs. Something had left behind some pretty foul fish remnants. The bears' absence could be a good thing; it was crowded and escape routes were few – it was hard enough to leave the rotten fish odor behind. At the top of the hill, there was an odd familiarity about Mendenhall; probably because photos of the site are so common. A waterfall adjacent to the glacier was nearly as impressive as the moving ice. Both would have greater impact with closer observation. It was raining again, but we were told to expect that in this tropical rain region. That must be what makes the evergreens so lush.

Interesting facts about Juneau – the only way to get there is sea or air; most buildings (all buildings of any age) are wood; the capitol building is small, has no dome and made of yellow brick; and I missed the perfect chance to photograph Wayne with one of several a life-sized cut-out posters of Sarah Palin. Politically astute or attuned, we must not be.

Cruise Log: THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2009
SITKA, ALASKA, USA
7:51am At Anchor
12:00nn Weather: Winds 9kts, Overcast sky, 12°C / 53°F
4:42pm Commenced sea voyage

The bay at Sitka is too shallow for docking the cruise ship, so we were taken ashore by lifeboats put into service as “tenders.” This charming city likely claims second place among favored spots. The cameraman had far more shots of this area it seems. Perhaps this is what was in our minds eye view of Alaska. Shore-side cabins among tall pines, boat docks and wooden wharfs, lots of Russian and Indian influences about. Very historical on the surface – ranging from totem poles and stone fort walls to mid-1900 shops along the street. We visited a very nice quilt shop and a Ben Franklin five-n-dime. The latter had front shelves and sidewalks piled with tourist items, but the back of the store was like walking into Charleston’s 1950 version complete with yard goods and craft supplies. I would think there would be time for lots of winter handwork in Alaska, but they say the coastal regions are pretty mild and so may have little need of cabin fever relief. Walking through town we also discovered a grocery store where DH found some caffeine/sugar free cola. [Isn’t it funny how we tend to lean toward home patterns even on distant shores? We lugged those slowly diminishing cokes back to Seattle and left half of them in the motel there as they wouldn’t fly – hope someone found use for them.]

We re-boarded ship in time to get ready for dinner…eating again. By now or soon hereafter (so much eating – it’s all a blur) we have lots of new dishes under our belts. Escargot, calamari, prawns, fillet Mignon and lobster, tiramisu, coffee cheesecake, lemon and mango sherbets, assorted European breads, leafy green salads with exotic dressings, lamb chops, lobster bisque, French onion soup (the only thing I ordered twice), salmon galore, and on and on and on. My favorite appetizer was a spring roll nesting in a luscious (hot) puddle of Thai sauce; my least favorite entrée was the lobster. It was good, but I still like shrimp better. As for escargot – you can eat anything drown in butter and garlic.

Cruise Log: FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2009
KETCHIKAN, ALASKA, USA
6:45am Safely docked
12:00nn Weather: Wind 4kts, Overcast sky, 13°C / 53°F
12:50pm Let go all lines, commenced sea voyage

What’s to catch in Ketchikan? Salmon, crabs and tourists. B/S left ship early for a zip line adventure, but by the time we were up ‘n at ‘em there wasn’t a lot of time for visitation of the real city. Like Juneau and Sitka our first glimpse of Ketchikan was tourist-ville. I left a bigger dent there than intended, but not in shops. I moved backward off an unseen wharf step and landed (rather hard) on my backside – only real harm was embarrassment for DH – still sore, but recovering well enough with time. You’d think with all this padding…no, don’t go there. We became accustomed to the tourist trends and jewelry shops. Surprises me that gold and diamonds and semi-precious stones are so plentiful in such a sparsely populated state. And then there’s all those “yours from Alaska” trinkets that read “made in China or Philippines” on the reverse of label. But I digress. There are plenty of nature/outdoor activities available earlier in the season, so the case is (again) made for a road trip with more control of a schedule. All of our ports could have used double time for exploration it seemed.

Dinner routine was a bit different this day, as service personnel took a turn at entertaining along with food service. It all began with tossed napkins (versus tossed rolls) to the tune of Blue Danube waltzing; veggie juggling before serving salad and a more fixed menu. The guys had fun and so did we. Baked Alaska was the slated dessert – and who takes an Alaskan cruise without trying baked Alaska??
Another aside about food (since we’re never far from the subject), though supply and variety were endless, it was quite possible to eat reasonably on a cruise. Dinner courses were small proportions and always included whole grains, fruits and no-sugar added ice cream as options. I did say quite possible, not likely. You’ve already noticed that several of my choices were neither sugar nor fat free.

Cruise Log: SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2009
VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
12:00nn Weather: Wind 7kts, Partly Cloudy Sky, 15°C / 159°F
6:20pm* Safely docked
11 :30pm* Let go all lines, commenced sea voyage
*Times are estimated

Main Street Victoria was a short taxi trip from the dock. We were not far from nightfall when we hopped out in front of the Empress Hotel, then took a good walk down Government Street and over to the Wharf Street. By the time we circled back to the hotel, darkness had descended and the hotel was lit with lights like a fairytale castle. I like the feel of Victoria and probably would have really liked the botanical gardens had we been early enough in the day or season to take that route. Again, back for our last supper – er, dinner on board and adieu to the sweet serving crew.

As to servers the vast majority were Indonesian “youngsters” – some looked no more than twelve. They work 10-months a year on the ships to support themselves and their families. Perhaps that disconnection makes them more interested and attentive to guests, or perhaps they are just sweet and friendly. Whether by training or nature, they were very pleasant and polite, without exception.

Tired enough to turn in early, as usual, we packed our bags and left them outside the door for transfer to the dock in the wee hours. I don’t know when we left dock to head for Seattle, the dream coming to a close; but I am sure it was after the projected hour before midnight. Or maybe not … I didn’t turn into pumpkin before departure.

Cruise Log: SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20,2009
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
5:30am* First line ashore
6:00am* Safely docked
*Times are estimated

There was a full afternoon of sightseeing in Seattle on Sunday’s log. We walked over to the Space Needle and finding long lines, hopped on the monorail to downtown Seattle. Talk about culture shock! I would never have imagined such a sea of people on a Sunday afternoon. For you Sleepless/Seattle fans, we went to the waterfront market, lunched at the Athenian; saw the stools with brass “Rob Reiner/Tom Hanks sat here” tags attached and very recognizable piers outside our window as we ate fish/chips. Then on to an underground tour of the original Seattle street level – so close to sea level that sewers worked backwards (gross) at high tide. Consequently, they redesigned streets by building stone walls, filling them with nearby hillside dirt to bring road and sidewalk levels up one story. The original sidewalks remained in use for some time, then the first floors became basements and the second floors were street level. Pretty ingenious. Present streets are bustling, noisy; a Starbucks on every corner (no surprise); a complex bus system, a big city contingent of homeless street musicians (some sad, some scary), unusual architecture and big spattering of ‘the arts’ throughout. Bus and monorail got us back to the Needle, the large crowd had moved on and we went up to view the city and, of course, Mt. Rainier. Been there, done that and I’m glad for the memory.

Six or seven hours afoot tired tourists make … didn’t take us too long to rearrange for next day travel home and hit the sack. I awoke in the middle of the night and had to giggle. Three tired puppies snoring to beat the band (for the first time in our week of rooming together). I’m sure I joined the chorus when I fell back asleep. Whipped, we were, for sure!

A long day in the airport on Monday and the trip of a lifetime ended Tuesday – wheels down in Charleston just after noon; feet across the threshold of Teelside about 2:30. Time to thank God for the good company, an indescribably wonderful time, absolutely Awesome sights and Providential protection that guarded our journey start to finish.

Signing off …

TIME SHARE

2009-08-11T10:35:00.005-04:00

That has come to mean a fun vacation in an unique environment ... that pretty well describes my trip to Alabama. This was the first time I'd visited the Brown family since they moved away from WV (mid 90's - Wesley preached in Chas for 9 years before moving back to his home state). We've had several occasions to reunite as their work brings them to OH & WV, but no opportunity for extended visits. We were so excited when Donna and two daughters planned to join us at the Teel Reunion ... but those plans didn't work out as she was diagnosed and had major cancer surgery just a few weeks before that was to happen. Since she couldn't come to the mountain....we went to her. She wept when I told her I was coming and said, "thank you, Papa for sharing her." That's Donna, always grateful.

The bridal tea -- wedding shower to us Yankees -- was set and the whole family was headed south. We came early and stayed late with a purpose. Since Donna is no longer up to the wedding sewing she planned (bridal and 4 bridesmaids' gowns), the loving work passed from Laurie's mama to her future mama and grandmama in law. (Nina and Donna are great friends, so their all mine...you get the picture.) Also, I was already on board for doing wedding flowers, but hadn't been able to find suitable silk blooms in Charleston. Arriving several days ahead of Nines, we found our blooms and I went to work.

Joe and Wes tagged along with us flower shopping. So funny. We called them the flowermen. A couple days later when the corsages and boutonnieres were done and I was starting on the bouquets I gave Joe the job of cutting those stout stems into similar lengths -- like how could the groom resist a chance to show off muscle? The next day, the Koen family and GA Teels (minus David) arrived. Jonathan was my engineer for the next phase of the project. O.K., Jon, here's your challenge - Laurie wants clutch bouquets, which means we have to find a way to secure a likely bunch of stems to the bottom of this Styrofoam disc that will hold the blooms. He sorted and counted the stems (I had saved/added the ones from Isobel's grandson's wedding flowers), divided by five and devised a 3-point triangle of floral picks to anchor the stems. And it worked. Joe helped. There they were groom and groomsman (cousins) poking, wiring, glue gunning like mad-scientist florists. A priceless memory and invaluable assistance.

I got up the morning of the tea and did the last item, the bride's bouquet. Saved it 'til last and it turned out best...that was the plan. The folding table was then cleared for sewing projects. Next day, Nines' pinned/cut the wedding gown and we were on a roll. She'd join pieces with pins, I'd sew; then she'd baste the next seam while I serged the former. Went very smoothly. The serger, borrowed from Nines' friend was much like the one Isobel gave me and it was the life-saver. We'd never have managed to hand turn all that satin and organza. Well, we probably could have, but I'm surely grateful we didn't have to. The finished dress took only three days, and the bride was delighted. Mission accomplished!

There's a point to all my rambling...believe it or not. Today I am reflecting on the great time we had working together for a great family occasion. I think about how pleasant it was to work together with Nina - doing something we both love for someone we both adore. We were working in the living room between a folding table and the dining room table which were moved together to accommodate the process. A lot of furniture was misplaced to create a convenient work space. And a lot of family was misplaced to accommodate our coming. Daughters slept on couches and floor in the living room, sons slept on couches and floor in the family room; families combined funds to rent the van Lisa (and boys) drove from IN to AL with Nina and seven kids on board; aunts/uncles and church friends provided bed/board for some of the crew; Laurie gave me her bedroom, Pami / Dianna gave Nina and little ones their bedroom; Wes worked overtime toting and fetching, doing dishes, wash, cooking (for 16-20 folks), with Donna directing and helping as she was able. A chaotic time became a sweet symphony ... somewhat syncopated rhythms, yes, but just great. And in all of this there was TIME for SHARING - worship services, Bible studies, family memories, extraordinary affection, stories of life-struggles and humor ... lots of humor and laughter.

In another era, this family would have lived on a homestead, or at least in the same community. They would have joined in work and celebration with similar milestones. We traveled across seven states by air and highway to join hands in the cause. The time-share of family traditions ... God is so good.

And Lord willing, we'll do the same in October, for the wedding.

CRUMB PUDDING

2009-04-15T14:14:00.004-04:00

If it takes bread crumbs to make bread pudding, then a quilt made of crumb blocks can be CRUMB PUDDING. Makes sense to me! And, it’s my quilt top.

Crumb blocks are so much fun aren’t they? This top is set up with four (4”) crumb blocks per square, set with 3-inch side sashes and cornerstones (crumb blocks trimmed to 3”). It’s the classic “Scots Plaid” pattern -- very easy to accomplish. I’m quite pleased with the taupe and cocoa sash fabric Nines helped me find. Also happy to finally accomplish a quilt top with NO outside borders. I’d brag, but Nina still has an oversized (84” X 98”) top to quilt. The size is reason enough to stash it a while, though I’m glad it will wend its way out of my hopper and into hers.

I do the easy part and am truly in no hurry at all for the finale.

Spring is well on its way in WV. We’re enjoying molly moochers, the daffodils are on their way out and the redbuds are bursting on the banks of roadways. DH is right – they should call the latter purplebud – and he does.

Changing season may mean less sewing and piecing … may …I’m not making any rash promises!

GRANDMOTHER KISSES

2009-03-16T10:38:00.003-04:00

The quilt top pictured before is now a finished quilt (on Benjamin Seth Teel's bed). I titled the "XXX" quilt "Grandmother Kisses." And, here's this quilt's story.

The first time I was back home (a year after marrying and moving off to FL), my Mom held my face in her hands and covered my cheeks with kisses. . . before she inspected her new grandson David, even. What a sweet memory!

I tried to smother my babies with kisses like hers ... and then my grandchildren (at least seven kisses to count at all). Even the older ones are admirably tolerant, but it was (I think) one of Nine's girls who named my shower of affection "Grandmother Kisses."

Get in line ... I have plenty to spare still.

MEMORIES OF GOLD

2009-02-28T09:48:00.003-05:00

While visiting a family friend in a Hospice House this week, we had the unexpected pleasure of seeing him joined by friends and son for an impromptu bluegrass session. What a blessing!

MEMORIES OF GOLD

Virgil picked the fiddle up
To play a little tune
And one by one the timid notes
Rang out across the room –
Each note a wee bit stronger
Than the one that came before
Virgil brought the strings and bow
To harmony once more.

The wonder of the moment was
Sealed up with tender tears
Of friends and family bound in heart
Remembering all the years
That Virgil played his fiddle
With a strong and gifted hand,
Bringing gleeful smiles and laughter
To so many ‘cross the land.

Virgil picked the fiddle up
And soon forgot his pain
The music claimed his spirit,
Soul and body once again.
How precious, then, to see him play,
His frail, beloved frame
United with his fiddle
In familiar sweet refrains.

Virgil played the fiddle
All because true friends in deed
Understood, so well, the value
Of his music; saw his need
To know again the magic
That no other hour could hold
Like Virgil and his fiddle …
Making memories of gold.

[Dedicated to Virgil and to his pickin' buddies Joe, Glen and Eddie.]

PICTURES IN POETRY, VOLUME II -- highly recommended!

2009-02-21T08:54:00.001-05:00

Hot off the press and worth twice the price!

P.J. Casebolt's PICTURES IN POETRY, VOLUME II

Mail your request with $10.00 to cover book and postage to:

PAUL J CASEBOLT
33222 CHILDRENS HOME ROAD
POMEROY OH 45769

While supplies last, Paul will include a complimentary copy of Volume I with your order for this new book. If it is convenient to do so, you might include a mailing label with your request - to save his dear (81-yr old) fingers some writing/typing.:)

BETH'S QUILT TOP

2009-01-10T21:12:00.007-05:00

My DGD Hannah Beth and I worked together on this one. The central fabrics were a gift to me, she approved of the colors and block pattern and once the blocks were assembled decided how she wanted them laid out. I love her design - meshing and progression of colors. It may be pictured upside-down...I can't remember whether she started with dark or light rows. I found the border fabric this week, so it's all done and ready to mail to GA. Miss Beth will quilt it by hand ... after she finishes a top she is doing for her other grandmother. Sorry, Beth, it's clearly a family addiction and you got a double whammy.

We're seeing a good bit of winter rain. We had lovely snow on Thursday, but it is warmer now. Rain or snow, I'm ready to sew. Crumb blocks may be next.

IN THE SHUFFLE

2009-01-07T21:54:00.002-05:00

It's probably a good sign when grandchildren are happy to be going home again. No matter how much they love time with grandfather and grandmother, back to known surroundings and routines is good too. But my, how quiet the barn is without them.

The shuffle for today is a final print-out on a 100+ pages of a poetry publication I'm compiling for a dear friend. This is his second book - Pictures in Poetry, Volume One was published in 1989. We'll be delivering the manuscript to its Ohio author tomorrow and I'm hoping additional corrections will be very few. What a joy it has been to convey such talent to sheets of paper! DH has been my trusty proof reader and he has enjoyed the reading as much as I have.

Once that project is truly in the chute (to the printers), perhaps I can concentrate and progress elsewhere. Even crochet and Sudoku have taken a back seat. And forty-three umpteen fun "winter" sewing jobs are awaiting. Nothing major or pressing - January ought to be good for at least one new quilt top, a flannel shirt and a jumper or two, though.

The woodshed is full, so bring on the snow and keep the sewing lights up and running.

BLESSED BEGINNINGS ... 2009

2008-12-31T22:31:00.004-05:00

New Year’s is my favorite holiday, I think. Not the customs of day – though I like cabbage and Hoppin’ John just fine – but the sense of new beginnings.

Get up and start over with a whole new clean slate! Of course my Lord makes that possible every morning – still, the first day of a new year adds a bit of flourish; a fresh, bright awareness of the reality to the truth of it!

A time for reflection, resolution and anticipation! Reflections equal thanksgiving – there are many things in the last year that deserve remembering with gratitude. Resolutions – even the recycled ones offer hope. I can always do better. Anticipation – Providence lies ahead on those empty calendar sheets; supplied, hour by hour according to His Grace.

Will every day be sunny? Certainly not! Will all my dreams come true? Perhaps I should hope not! Will all my prayers be answered? Most surely – according to His will!

I’ve not yet seen 2009, but I’ve been here before. The threshold of faith – stepping in His footprints, holding to His Hand, bowing to His wisdom and trusting for all my tomorrows that His love will guide me safely on.

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

2008-12-23T08:50:00.002-05:00

KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING

Keep the home fires burning,
Light a candle, cut some pine;
Keep the family traditions
That will warm your heart and mine
With the links to dear reflection
From the mirrors of the past -
All the tender recollections
Child to aged ... first to last.

Be it turkey, ham or taffy,
Apple pie or chocolate cake,
Popcorn strings or men of ginger,
Sugar plums that visions make -
Strike the chord of magic mem'ry
Play the fife and beat the drums
That resound in halls of kinship
And rekindle thoughts of home.

Home - where love is warm and gentle
Home - where happiness abounds,
Where bright blooms of faith and mercy
Spread their fragrance all around;
Where the tears and hopes and laughter
Of a lifetime tightly weave
A rich tapestry of sharing -
Ours to give and to receive.

Home fires burn in radiant beauty
In the joy that children see
Beaming from the smiles of parents,
Or in hugs on Grandpa's knee.
Home fires blaze in humble settings
For mere wealth could ne'er impart
Throughout time the Gift of Wonder
Like the dear things of the heart.

Ah yes, home is where the heart is;
So we speak, and 'tis so true.
We each hold within our being
Elements of vibrant hue;
Strength is there to draw us forward;
Lights that mark the journey home
Like a beacon shining brightly
To the shores where we belong.

Let us keep the home fires burning
Light our candle, soft and sweet,
Thoughtful of the home eternal
At the blessed Master's feet -
Where the Father waits in glory;
Where the Savior bids us come;
Where the loving, gracious Brother
Leads us to that perfect Home.

My BRAT QUILT

2008-12-19T15:05:00.003-05:00

Yesterday's miss-measurement and re-assemblage turned out to be pretty ugly. As in beyond redemption ugly. So this morning I decided to toss those patches (into a bag....maybe John can redeem them), and use the rest of the scrap squares to whip up a smaller version. It is, after all, leftovers.

I did NOT square up/pre-trim every square. I did NOT make sure all the seams were pressed in opposite directions. I did NOT even pre-measure the borders (though I did press with a bit of spray starch for a smoother fit). Whack - sew - whack. Yep, in Nines' vernacular, I'm a brat. A 64-year old brat. But since it's a little quilt, don't expect me to own up to being a BIG brat.

UP TO SNUFF...er ... STUFF

2008-12-18T13:56:00.003-05:00

Yes, I would think horror of horrors, if anyone thought I would commend the former (though my Grandma Brady rubbed, most of her 90+ years, and credited the practice with preserving all her natural teeth). Aren't expressions funny! Up to snuff ... now what in the world does that mean?

Today, it is STUFF. And my brain obviously isn't up to stuff either, nor was it yesterday. Just piddling here and there and getting nowhere. Pulled out a quilt top that is begging for borders before DGD Hannah takes it back home to quilt herself. Nothing else I pulled out of fabric piles seems to suit, so guess I'll wait on finishing that project. This morning I decided to play with the left overs from that top. The fabrics are nice quality, hence easy to sew. So, I took a try at the odds and ends of strips and squares. When I pieced the left overs I figured the size wrong, and squares weren't square; a spare 1/2 inch in one direction. So I whacked them in two and shuffled them up - maybe by the time I get all these orphans reassembled as half-triangles, it will look like that was my intent all along. Square squares were boring -- that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Holidays suddenly seem more festive with news that one family of children are heading this way next week. I'll need to finish or quit with orphan assemblage by tomorrow, I suppose, but from here Monday seems soon enough to gear my brain up to stuffing the oven and cookie jars.

SNOODIES

2008-12-13T12:00:00.005-05:00

A sweet young friend just loves it when fall weather turns cool enough for a hoody. Some of our grandchildren are quite fond of hoods, too ... though we prefer the smaller 'squeaky little star wars ewoks" variety to the dark over-sized evil emperor variety. Hoods to Snoods.

These snoods came about in a quest for "Little Women" musical costuming for Florida college spring drama. DD Laurie lets me help with costuming, time to time, and I enjoy the prospects. The snood pattern downloaded from internet was a short ponytail / bun variety and I've worked at enough modification to make it head sized. The multicolored one will go to granddaughter, not drama; but practice makes better - if not perfect.

We had a lovely one-day stay in Indiana this week. The kind that makes you want to stay and stay. But even retired folks have local obligations of loving sort. DH felt obligated to go hunting when we arrived home and 'caught' a deer in the hour of daylight left. That makes six for the season so far; which we're happy to share.

Company for lunch tomorrow may be served button buck bambi burger in taco soup; with salad and cookies. Obligingly simple hospitality to sweet folks -- a joy any season.

THE SOUND OF SILENCE

2008-11-28T10:28:00.003-05:00

...can be a very good thing. Perhaps, it is time again for a soft whisper.

The holidays (Thanksgiving through New Years) have begun. It's hunting season for DH. There are two deer hanging under the back steps - skinning and cutting will be done today and tomorrow, I expect. Our upright freezer died, so we need to be a bit more creative about storing meat. That may mean more cold-packed jars of venison; not a bad chore if someone else cleans and cubes the meat. We have out eye out for means of shipping the meat off to descendants soon.

I thought I would get out the water colors while DH hunted, but so far, no opportunity or mood. Chose instead to play with crumbs, bind a quilt, read and crochet in leisure time. No guilt there - I'm getting very independent about spending leisure somewhat selfishly, no doubt.

We did Thanksgiving with a roast hen and dinner for two. Quite pleasant with a houseful of memories and love of fuller thanksgivings to keep us company. The hen was tough - but will make good rice soup and pot pie for us and shut-ins.

Along with the holidays can be lonely theme, an October verse is offered for consideration:

WHAT IS THAT IN THY HAND?
(Exodus 4:2)

PART I - LONELINESS:

With the passage of time, changes quickly decree
The reshaping confinement of life no more free.
Age limits our motion - heart, body and soul,
And the rigor of youth moves beyond our control.

We shift into strange corridors, no more our own
As if time has now vanquished our empire and throne.
And if by good Grace, our abode is the same
None remain who may lovingly call out our name.

The walls may be cheerful, the hall lit with care
Yet backed in the corner, we learn how to bear
Time and memory frozen in blind, empty space
Without voice of connection or comrade of face.

PART II - LIBERATION:

Take up arms, gentle pilgrims, let not loneliness stand
As a curse of confinement — we have in our hand
The simple solutions to chase gloom of night,
The power to turn desperation to light.

A phone call, a letter, a cookie, a song,
A timely reminder they’re loved all along...
And even a stranger is blessed by a smile —
With no cost to the giver, the joy spreads a mile!

“What is that in your hand?” —the meek prophet of old
Found the power of blessings more precious than gold.
So we hold in our hand means of spreading abroad
The compassion and love of our merciful God.

*****

I have long thought the scourge of the aged is loneliness...emptiness is more dreadful than poverty or pain. We recently visited a sweet 96-year old man in Clendenin. He is shut in by ill health, well tended by family that lives next door and yet alone in a house with only memories and time for company most times. We rarely take anything when we visit - lending only a short stay, a kind ear and warm smiles. (He has wonderful clarity of mind/speech so listening to him is a joy for us, really.) As I cradle his cheek in my hand before we leave, there are tears in his eyes - precious gratitude for what cost us nothing except the expenditure of a bit of the day that belonged to the Lord anyway.

Let's fill our holidays with sharing....

THANKS TO MISS SANDY..

2008-07-07T15:51:00.004-04:00

MISS SANDY TAUGHT MISS NINA, MISS NINA TAUGHT ME...fine way to learn a thing or two.

I would not have imagined I would pick up thread crochet - at my age - but here I am crocheting to my little heart's content. Thanks to Nina's patience and easy reader patterns. The 'green thing' was chosen, not because I had any notion it would turn out so large, but because it was the only pattern in my lot labeled "easy-to-do." Having the patience to finish it was not easy, but I finally made it to the end. There is one very noticeable character flaw covered by the candle...when I give it away a candle or some similar cover-up must needs go with it. Anyway, I think a Victorian doily atop a Wondercoal stove is an amusing contrast for July. The unfinished doily lacks a nice border and since it was started with a left-over ball of ecru, I'm thinking the outer frill may be an ecru/metallic gold thread if I can find such my next trip out.

The sweet reproduction crumbs squares were also passed on to me by Miss Sandy. So, I have the first block of my next quilt (reproduction sampler) set up. She's looking at this and wondering how to embellish the muslin betweens. I'm thinking I'll leave that to the quilter (unless I get ambitious and applique small hearts). When a few other squares are done I will decide about coping fabric - right now I'm leaning toward a red print.

Before tackling this really difficult block (NOT)this morning, I warmed up with 26 4-inch crumb blocks from June's sewing scraps. My crumb blocks needed a fresh drink of color ... that's my excuse and I'm stickin' to it.

Must be July - it's hot and muggy in these West Virginia Hills.

HOP UP MY LADIES...

2008-06-27T07:40:00.004-04:00

...THREE IN A ROW.

One of those is a laddie, I suppose. Anyway that's three quilts done done. Thanks to Nines for good quilting! The bindings and labels are done to a T(eel) and they are ready to ship to recipients. It's quite a trip to do a trio in one week. Makes me want to dig in a start another....hehehe.

Speaking of digging DH dug up this year's garlic. Good harvest. Most was left in the garden to dry a bit; he's off now to gather it up - and a wave of rain swept through about the time he reached the garden gate. He has an awful time getting his garlic dried properly - between WV summer rain and humidity. The summer rain is still preventing the first cutting of hay, much to his chagrin. But what can a man do about rain clouds...not much, I'd say.

About the 'green thing' - thread ran out about 1-1/2 rows before the finish. So, I just stuffed it into the cardboard thread cylinder and will take it off to IN, where Nines has some more of the same shade/color lot. It's pretty bad when you can't finish a first project, but that didn't stop me from starting two more. A simple collar and another doily are now in progress and I'm thinking (keeping my head straight when switching from one to another being now only a minor issue) this new hobby will be a winner. Hoo'd a thunk it? Thanks, Nines.

Besides all those boys need doilies for their hope chests, right?

GUESS WHAT???

2008-06-20T15:51:00.006-04:00

O.K. So it's not a big stretch to guess what. But it was a fun little project.

The fun part is guessing HOW to "engineer" the thing. Don't you just love engineering? Well, yes, that is a glorified term for making some simple little hobby aid - you'll just have to indulge me.

Nines spied the fabric on Tea Wallets (below), but alas, those were all given away before she got to choose hers. This is a consolation prize for the prairie girl who has taken to crocheting. I hope it's not TOO big for her tiny new purse; and will keep her crochet necessities from drifting too far afield :)

SUNDRY PLEASURES

2008-06-17T17:33:00.008-04:00

CHICKLET JOY – There it is. One sweet chick in my hands seems symbolic. What a pleasure to take a little trip to IN to visit with family! One chick at a time - loving every minute of it! Ten grand-chicks together were a quite a joy, too. But there were several sequences of ONENESS with various children/grandchildren. There is something special and extra tender about sole focus ... every time. Upon my return, I told DH, every moment was filled with love and comfort - with a lot of laughter tucked in between the lines. I'm ready to go again....

BRINGING HOME BOOTY / IN GOOD COMPANY – DD being so well in tune to my whims, means a Spooner for my table. Nines thinks it is a green reproduction; but I little care how it came to be. It fits quite nicely on her first crocheted doily. (What an honor that it came my way!) Both treasures abide in good company … the other white doily pictured was a gift from Aunt Carrie; the pink platter belonged to Aunt Ruth and the depression glass creamer/sugar bowl were a fantastic hostess gift from a houseguest.

SHARING PLEASURE – Of course, Nines thought I should also learn to crochet with thread. MAYBE it is time. The green thing is my start…up to row – oh no – thirteen! No way will I be as prolific as Nines. Moderation being the key and discouragement seeming avoidable, my patterns feature only easy and intermediate varieties. Don't imagine I have enough time or brain left to conquer 'challenging.' Even so, it is turning into a pleasant, productive pastime. DH is (as we speak) rewiring my Ott lamp to accommodate a more reasonably priced bulb, said $35 issuance having cracked and broken. That will make evening crochet easier…but like Nines, I expect to enjoy outdoor crochet more.

BACK DOOR GREETING – The next picture is the view from my kitchen sink. Such a pleasure to view this back yard! EXCEPT when greeted by unexpected loungers. A dastardly duo took interest in the hummingbird feeder. Just as I arrived back home! Thankfully, DH forded the stairs ahead of me and warned – in a very gentle voice – "You'd better stay in the yard for now." Yep, you got it: two healthy black racers! Whew – well, they're not too healthy now. My hero dispatched them posthaste. And I can tell you, I take a slow peek out before I cross the threshold these days.

POT-O-PLEASURE – What could be better than cream of asparagus soup? Wonderful way to use asparagus collected in the fridge in my absence, since it varied in degree of freshness. The chopped stems were pureed with a hand blender when tender and the asparagus heads added last. It's always good to leave a bit of vegetable floating in the soup for identity sake. Wish Aunt Luanne could come for supper.

RIGHT AT HOME – See that dab of butter in the butter dish? There was about that amount left when friends joined us for supper a while back. The meal was over and I was preparing to serve up some chocolate pound cake for dessert. One guest opted for molasses on a wheat roll, instead of cake. He eyed the butter dish and asked, "Is everyone through with the butter?" Affirmative. He then poured some molasses in the dish, stirred thoroughly and spread it on his roll. Emily Post would be aghast…I do believe his wife rolled her eyes…but I found pure pleasure in knowing someone felt so much at home at our table!!

HAVE TEA WILL TRAVEL

2008-05-26T19:33:00.002-04:00

Nines sent me in this direction [http://ccswch.wordpress.com/category/tutorials/]. It was a great idea. She knows I'm always on the scout for a bit of something different for a handout. What fun and how easy these little tea wallets were! And the gift box of fabric remnants cheered up the process and outcome considerably.

Your plaid watermelon print is never going to fade into the sunset, Nines. But it's so happy and feels so good my hands just reach for it automatically. Shank buttons worked best for these wallets; but if I make another round, it may be iron-on Velcro and a 2 x 4 sewn and turned tab…with or without a decorative button. I did put a note to that effect on my directions, else I would forget.

No travel for us on this holiday weekend. But we do hope to go to Gilmer County mid-week. DSis is coming from MD for some uncle visiting, and I want to take advantage of having her in the same neck of the woods. Need to think "uncle Cookies," too. Early summer in Gilmer County is always like going home…

And it's time to cut hay – if the rain will stay at bay long enough for the meadows to dry out. One of my very favorite WV countryside memories is the hillsides and meadows (in WV most meadows are partly hilly) dotted with haystacks. The haystacks gave way to hay bales (square) and now are usually round (like giant shredded wheat). Well, the cows probably don't care what shape it's in, just so they can get to it.

CRUMBY CARDS

2008-05-19T16:46:00.002-04:00

Sometimes one big mess begets another, you know. While still in crumb gear I went looking for a card to send someone special, and found my stash quite low. Time to replenish and iron-ons were my first impulse. I robbed from my postcard supply of fabrics already lined with heat-n-bond and the first thing I knew I was crumb bound on paper. A little mulberry paper for texture and a bit of lace or ribbon, buttons here and there – it was all very easy. Somewhere along the line I decided to try matching some of the cards by ironing fabric on their envelope. There it is – coordinated cardware. I did learn the hard way to be sure the flap was turned up & out on the envelope before ironing onto the front – otherwise that sucker seals shut and isn't a bit useful. (And this happened with a dry iron – I wouldn't have been surprised if steam had that effect.)

So it has been Play May around here. But I have done a thing or two between my games. Made a pumpkin pie this morning – don't know whether I was hungry for pumpkin pie or just wanted an excuse to have the oven on an hour or so to heat up the kitchen. It's not nearly cool enough for a fire, just needed a warm spot somewhere in the Barn. The garden is in except for corn and green beans. We staked the tomatoes/peppers yesterday. I can say WE, because I held a few of the poles semi-vertical as they were being driven in by sledgehammer. You know, you really have to trust your buddy to hold your hand under his sledge. His 'stakes' are recycled electrical conduit, (more tacky than earthy looking; but they'll soon be hidden by greenery.) My theory is that when you're going to the garden for a fresh tomato, you rarely take time to inspect or philosophize about stakes.

The yellow rose of Indiana is bloomin' its little heart out. So sweet!

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS…

2008-05-15T14:16:00.003-04:00

READ THE INSTRUCTIONS…

Now they tell me. I have 200 4-inch blocks in my crumb box and decide to check out Bonnie's site for setting options. There I discover her method for dealing with those overwhelming crusts and crumbs. Just a basket full at a time! I have been running through crumbs for a couple weeks now and it was getting difficult to scoop out enough space on the table for DH's meals. Kept needing to add one more of this or that color, this or that hue; so it was downstairs to haul up a few more possibles. First thing you know there was a mountain of possibilities and I couldn't see the trees for the forest.

So…taking good advice to heart, I sorted through all the scraps on the table – two-inch slips and real crumbs in a basket; two-inch strips in one bag (yes, I confess, I invaded the 2-inch strip box for wanted variety) and larger squares, rectangles in another. An hour or so later, I have a single basket of bona-fide crumbs and a new start of smaller (if not itty-bitty) slips and slivers for more squares. Now those squares already cut that showcase only 3-4 fabrics are staying in the mix. But now perhaps it will look like I've done less cheating in the process.

Speaking of crumbs…I had cornbread crumbled in buttermilk for lunch. When I was a child, we often had cornbread with sweet milk for Sunday supper. That's still one of my take-me-home favorites. Several friends have mentioned cornbread and buttermilk, so I've been wanting to try that for a while now – was just waiting to think about it and have reasonably fresh buttermilk at the same time. It was every bit as good, maybe even a schooch better! Shocking, I know. So this will serve as notice that, although I may be tardy about instructions, I am NOT YET too old to learn new tricks…at any table function.

GREEN, GREEN, IT'S GREEN THEY SAY...on the far side of the hill...

2008-05-12T17:56:00.006-04:00

If my camera were working I'd take a green, green green photo of the evening. We've had rain - mostly gentle, but lots of it - every day since Wednesday or Thursday of last week. The spring greens are looking pretty summery, with the biggest contrast seen on the new shoots of pine!

Our supper green was sauteed asparagus...YUM YUM YUM YUM YUM. I could eat my weight in fresh asparagus. I even find myself munching the 'tough' ends that snap off raw as I prepare to cook the rest. Thank you DS!!! (She sent DH the plants.)

DH lit a fire in the wood stove. No it's not THAT cold, but under 70 feels chilly when you're over 60 and it's this damp. We had a power outage, which fried the freezer compressor yesterday. A very small casualty of weather, considering other calamities here and abroad. We moved all the corn to the refrigerator freezer; and most of the venison, I think. Let DH take command of the transfers, since he knows what food stuffs are more valuable to him. Perhaps this will be "enforced" downsizing. We could manage without that freezer - and not miss it at all 'til the corn comes in.

I'm still playing with crumbs between household chorelets. [It's hard to scrounge up a full-sized chore some days...changing a bed, doing a couple loads of laundry -- naw, grandma Oe wouldn't call that work!] The 4-inch squares are adding up; but I'm not stopping to count them...I might find out I need to stop if I do that. But you can only twist crusts in so many directions, so I'm sure their days are numbered.

Don't think Grandma Oe would call piecing crumbs work either, but I'm sure as rain that she would approve.

CRUSTS

2008-05-09T14:58:00.004-04:00

You know, the part left over that nobody wants.You might even call them crumb orphans.

Well to me they look like another scrappy quilt. I can't find my direction color wise. I'll just keep making them and then divide them by zones. I'm really liking the blocks with brown in them.

But if they are all combined we'll just have eclectic crusts. Hmmm.....

TODAY'S TREASURE

2008-05-07T20:03:00.004-04:00

Every day has it's treasures. Many times the smallest are the most precious. The picture is of DH's tiniest sister. She's always been tiniest. (I couldn't choose the sweetest if my life depended on it...and I'm too wise to try.) We went to visit an Aunt today, who had this photograph in one of her MANY envelopes of hidden treasure. I asked to borrow it so that I might make a copy for DH and she graciously agreed.

Something about youth...this sister has retained. The size, the blue eyes, the caring spirit, the inner beauty, the sincerity, the intensity? Leaves one to ponder. But something in the picture, taken not too long before I met her for the first time, brought back a treasure to be enjoyed today ... and through a good many tomorrows.

FRINGE BENEFITS

2008-05-06T19:26:00.005-04:00

My current computer project is compiling a set of verses for a new volume of poetry (authored by a dear friend of the family). I had the honor of illustrating the first volume, published circa 1989; and this will be no less a work of love. Though new illustrations have yet to be discussed, it's only natural to want to extend those latent possibilities...

But first, the verses must be scanned and made 'computer ready' for the printer. Beginning that process has been surprising. Some new gear has made the scanning process so much quicker and easier. I feed 10-12 sheets at a time through the magic HP machine and begin minor corrections and formatting changes, forthwith. Yes, I'm very thankful the author -- who hunts and pecks and has an unerring eye for grammatical perfection -- supplied the originals to start.

Another surprise comes with the substance. I've read these lines betimes - yet they are fresh and timeless. That, to me, is the defining quality of good poetry. When you read it every time, like the first time and still catch your breath or find chills running down you arms...you know it's a winner. Of course it also helps that the writer is, indeed, our kindred spirit.

For example ...

WHEN

When my body suffers pain,
My heart reflects the same refrain
And I wonder how much more
The flesh can stand;
My eyes behold a special tree,
That rugged one on Calvary
With the nails in the feet
And in each hand.

When the surgeons intervene
With their septic scalpel keen
And the blood seeps out to
Stain a bandage white;
I see a jagged, dirty spear
Then I watch the blood appear,
I see souls released from
Darkness into light.

When by cares and burdens great
I seem a prisoner of Fate
And I find no remedy for
Grief and tears;
I hear a prayer of agony
Coming from Gethsemane
And I know a loving Father
Sees and hears.

When the trail is rough and slow
And the cause I do not know,
When the skies seem overcast
And always gray;
God is watching and He knows
Every kind of wind that blows
And the footprints of the Lamb
Will lead the way.

PJC 10/13/91

I rest my case...

...love it...or NOT

2008-05-05T20:10:00.005-04:00

This sweet shrub is one of those May flowers you may choose to love at a distance. Like Lily of the valley or prolific lilacs. Nothing is sweeter than a lily of the valley...but they have a very powerful scent.

Must be a sign of old age...I'm leaving more and more blooms outdoors. Maybe my inside space is just too limited for wafting perfumes and asthma both in the same space. I love the blooms no less..from afar, that's all.

DH's DB is visiting this week. They do well at entertaining each other. It's Monday. They cut up a tree and stacked the firewood - a birch whose fresh bark smelled surprisingly like TEABERRY of all things. Yummy smell that! Then they went down and removed a long standing church sign. This one was set in concrete QUITE LITERALLLY and a big job to dig up and haul away. DBIL said it took every tool they had to get it down. Stolie built things to last in the 60's. There was still a dab of daylight when they returned home, so they burned a brush pile for their evening entertainment. Makes one wonder what will be afoot tomorrow. Whatever it is, those legs above their foots are going to be sore before they start!

But it was a perfect spring day. It could be made more perfect -- with an evening whip-poor-will call. With that I'll know it's really May. I did hear two cardinals singing in unison today, one just a nano second behind the other. Nice duet.

ONE MORE SKIRT...

2008-04-29T18:14:00.011-04:00

...there is always room for one more skirt. I'm on my way out with spring sewing - you believe that, you'll believe about anything - truly I am. All of this season's odds and ends were left-over notions.

The last one (larger pc) used some of the last quilt remnant from batiks and that scrap happy border. I was thinking dgd Hannah might like her own version of a pieced skirt. Problem is, unlike the smaller pieced varieties that were serged together, this was made of presewn strips. That meant lining it all with a nice tea dyed muslin. I'm not certain dgd will have the strenghth to hold up the weight of it.

We're getting ready for some spring company; so that means the sewing stuff must get out of the way for meals on the table. But the serger for soup ladle will only be a break ... hard to tell what I'll conjure up while I'm stirring that soup.

April Showers

2008-04-22T19:03:00.003-04:00

What could be more fun than napping through an afternoon of April showers? Maybe seeing the apple blossoms that pop out after a good rain. Gets greener every day around here. DH is out mowing a bit...his plan is to let the meadow grow and let a neighbor cut it for hay. Maybe he's "trimming." (And he gets the credit for today's photos).

Soon it will be too warm and sunny to stay indoors, so I'm trying to do up a bit of sewing. Just fun stuff. Who am I kidding...any sewing is fun stuff for me. And the more I sew, the more ideas I get for the next project. And surely there will be room for one more quilt top before the machine retires for the summer.

The lettuce is growing and a few things planted in the garden - garlic is up, onions set out and potatoes underground. DH does all the planting, I try to help a bit with weeding and harvesting. But mostly, my gardening season involves canning. DD Nines thinks it's time to give that up. Perhaps if DH has to do all the lifting this year he'll see the prospect of cutting back some. :) But he's not to blame...it's what we've always known, and hard to give up entirely. Before we know it the asparagus will be sprouting...so far we eat that as fast as it pops out of the ground.

DH took me on a bird nest tour earlier today. We saw four of the sweetest little chickadee eggs way down in the hole of a fence post - they look like little jelly-bellies; and six aqua bluebird eggs in a house. DH always knocks and calls, "anybody home" before he opens the front of the birdhouse to count eggs, and apologizes sweetly to the guarding papa on the walnut branch nearby. He has very good fowl manners, you see.

And it's warm enough now to open the rafter windows - the birds like Beethoven and I like birdsong, so we work it out to take turns entertaining.

A-a-a-ah, April. . . and it's almost over.

SPRING IN WV

2008-04-15T21:22:00.003-04:00

I know, I know...I'm late, I'm late.

It's been a very busy beginning of spring around Teelside. Besides, it never seems like spring to me - daffodils and forsythia notwithstanding - until the redbud is out. And the redbud is just this week coming out in full. DH says they should be called purplebud...he has a point.

But it must be spring. We've had molly moochers this week (morel mushrooms); a neighbor with a tractor that works is coming to plow the garden tomorrow; DH has set out 18 new apple trees, some of the meadow has become an orchard and the daffodils are on their way out.

On the other hand, there's fire in the wood stove tonight and it feels mighty good.

Do certain seasons remind you of certain people? DH's favorite season is autumn. Spring belongs to loved ones that were April born, summer is for heat lovers, winter for snow lovers. Me, I like them all -still at my stage of life, I do suppose I'd best be getting fonder of fall and winter.

Seasons so well represent security, knowing the Creator is yet in control. The earth's changes speak to His power and reflect His glory. God Almighty is brought near in the dogwood blossom, the smell of freshly turned soil, the ripple of the stream and warmth of spring sun rays after an April shower. Such great promise in the tiny senses of spring. Sometimes by looking down (and around) we are lifted up.

Mat 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

SCRAP HAPPY

2008-02-29T21:53:00.001-05:00

THERE'S SOMEHTING ABOUT AN OLD-FASHIONED SCRAPPY QUILT. Maybe it's a reflection of what I knew first. Maybe it's the fun of NOT knowing exactly what it's going to look like until it is all done. I worked on this one, just a little at a time and it was a happy little adventure. Not so large. No stress. Just fun. Well except for one part, maybe.....

FOUNDATION PIECING...
Every time I see that topic, I think 'making underthings out of scraps.' Go ahead and chuckle. I know it really tells my age, too.

So, did Grandma Oe sew her strings on paper before she cut them into stars? I'm working on a sort of string pattern. I say 'sorta' because my strips are close to 2-inches, not down to 1/4-inch scraps like Grandma was paitient enough to save/use. Anyway, the internet instructions said to keep the pieces flat they could be sewn onto paper, i.e., telephone book pages cut to size. True, they came out very flat. But it took all day to get the paper off the back of those squares. (I needed my cheerful grandson John and his sisters for the task...they'd have loved it.). Now I can see paper piecing a wall hanging or even a square or two at a time. But shredding paper from 48 squares took some patience I must have been short on yesterday. The next time, I'm going to take the alternative route and use an old sheet that can just live there.

I did figure out what makes scrap piecing so addictive. You can't really tell what it's going to look like until it is all assembled ...and you can't quit working on it until you see what it's going to look like.
I don't think Grandma Oe had this problem. She was far more patient and sane than I am. Even so, we've had more snow -- perfect piecing weather, so I was making pieces while the snow flew. Well it's raining now and the sewing machine is put away.

If you want particulars on this piecing process go to: http://www.quiltville.com/stringx.shtml In the final stages, mine went together very smoothly....so maybe foundations make a difference. Which, of course, reminds me of one Grandpa Grover's favorite hymns...

How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord
Is laid for your faith in His excellent word...

Nice reminder.

GRADUATION DAY

2008-02-22T18:28:00.016-05:00

The dastardly deed is done...one hideous, hopeless, polyester double-knit quilt top out of the hopper. Shew!!

Now on to greener pastures. Case in point - blissfully beautiful batiks. Sigh. What a joy. Thank you Nines for sharing your remnants.

Those 'remnants' made a queensize top with plenty to spare. Sewing with batiks is enough to make you solemnly promise you will NEVER use cheap fabrics again. They cut smooth and stay in place, gliding under the pressor foot almost effortlessly. Nothing fancy. Just a simple nine-patch, cut and turned to make shadow boxes.I've titled the piece "Shades of Perfection" - I love the watery colors so! No, it's not perfect - it's still an improvised top. But I'm thinking it's about perfect enough for one of my angels. [And, I do like Nines' little framing trick, too.]

Also pictured is my last batch of postcards. Not nearly as ornate as my teacher's, but usable and fun. Several feature some fabrics painted with oil sticks; a process I did enjoy. Now I get to make application of all those luscious slips of batik colors. I've got the groundhog's shadow to back me up while I hibernate with my sewing machine another month or so.

OH, SO PRECIOUS

2008-02-08T17:51:00.000-05:00

TOO SOON PASSING

Parents and Grandparents fill file drawers and scrapbooks full of such treasures. Nothing quite as captivating as those drawings that are offered as gifts from 2-8 year olds. Although I've been known to keep artwork well beyond that range, it is the 'Sweet part of Me to You' that makes the gift so special.

These were sketches from DGD Rebekah (age 6). I love the skater's rubber legs, the boots (just like my new ones - I guess she liked them too) and the happy eyes, don't you?

2008-02-01T10:05:00.000-05:00

WITH THESE HANDS

Hands of gentleness and balm
Swaddling baby soft and warm
Lightly stroking baby’s skin
Feather hair and dimpled chin

Hands of comfort; hands of calm
Cleaning scrapes, erasing harm
Lifting knees to plant a kiss
Every tear and pain dismiss

Hands to clap in praise and glee
With each step of progress seen
Hands to warn of fearful ways
When her lovelies disobey

Hands to strengthen wobbly stride
Tending patiently the tide
Ebb and flow of daily change
Peace and order to arrange

Hands of duty, joyful work
Naught too small or large to shirk
Sparkling dishes, wash and floor
Done to do again once more

Hands to open up the Word
Keenly probe the Shield and Sword
Hands to fold in solemn prayer
Trusting God with toil and care

Hands to mark the days that fly
Catch the sunbeams passing by
Grasping stars and counting time
Blessed by Oversight divine

Hands to look for beauty clear
In the simple things held dear
Scraps of fabric, thread and yarn
Joined to keep her family warm

Hands to clasp all hands around
There by love and honor bound
Hands to rest contendedly
Upon the grandchild on her knee…

Hands of gentleness and balm
Swaddling baby soft and warm
Lightly stroking baby’s skin
Feather hair and dimpled chin

NINES' WAY

2008-01-22T17:50:00.000-05:00

I actually finished the binding on TWO quilts today; and I must say the only way that could have been accomplished was to do it Nines' way.

It took Nines' a while to convince me it was kosher to do all the binding by machine, instead of sewing it on the right side, flipping and hand sewing the back. I still think that way is comforting for the quilt maker...but, once you've sewn it on the back, flipped, turned and sewn down the front with a close-edge seam....well, it's just so much quicker!!

I was having a good bit of trouble getting mine to look as neat as Nines' does, but I stumbled over a trick or two today. Besides using my machine quilting presser foot, I pressed the back side forward (not folded) after it was sewn down. That made the final turn so much easier. I also reminded myself to take it slowly on top and always stop with the needle down. That's real simple, you say. Yes it is - I guess I'm a slow learner; but still not too old to learn a thing or two.

The green quilt is for our DGS Josiah. I really like what Nines' did with the quilting. And I pieced this top from fabric that DS Isobel donated to my stash. The light greens remind me of shells and seaweed, so I'm naming it: "Irish Seashells by the Seashore." Josiah's ONLY criteria for a quilt was to make it green.

The whole cloth muslin quilt was Nines' practice piece...when she wanted to master a new quilting design with her longarm quilter she'd pin it on and go to town. The "blocks" have some great designs, but I think my favorite is her first quilted cursive that reads, "Jeremiah was a bullfrog; and he was a friend of mine.' As if the quilt needed more whimsy!

Nina has a way with quilts!!! Her grandmas would also be proud of her for planning to make her practice piece both beautiful and useful.

2008-01-17T18:09:00.000-05:00

MAGIC APRONS

Nines gave a friend one of my aprons. The friend soon declared it was MAGIC – it hangs near her kitchen and she says every time she puts it on she gets LOTS of work done. I’m all for making work magic, for big girls and little girls alike.

I had a few pieces of fabric stashed for aprons. (Nina has probably shared her newer ones and hers are looking a bit weathered). While at Nines’ last week I garnered some more of her odds and ends that had no particular destination. This became my week’s task. They didn’t exactly appear like magic, but what fun! Ended up with 23 - half of them are pint-sized as you can see. Nine’s girls wear them like pinafores. My favorite is on the top left – red with ducks. The drakes in the mix are wearing overalls, so naturally that smaller remnant was well suited to Nines’ youngest kitchen helper, Abe.

Least you think four too young to be helpful, I was amazed to see how much he can do in the kitchen – including cutting potatoes for broiling. True, Jacob stood right beside him to make sure he was doing it safely; and he was. It’s quite a treat to watch the Koen kids function together!

Now, if this row of aprons is not magical, it is at least useful…and rather sweet. I like them well enough to keep a couple for myself…But Nines can have the ten pretty tea napkins.

My favorite apron memory is Grandma Oe’s, of course. Her bibs were pinned to her dress sans straps (maybe they hurt her neck, too) and had a generous skirt tied with sashes in the back. Likely the only time I saw her without one was when she went to meeting. If she ever forgot to take it off then, she wouldn’t be the first one, would she?

CLEAN SWEEPS - NEW BEGINNINGS

2008-01-05T13:13:00.000-05:00

ALL THE BROKEN PIECES...I keep going back to that quote, "God can do wonders with a broken heart - if we give Him all the pieces."

One has to wonder...

How many problems go unsolved, how many burdens weigh on bending shoulders, how many sins remain unforgiven; simply because we do not give them up to the Lord? How often do we deprive ourselves of the freedom of whole healing and joy of full forgiveness because we want to hold on?

We want to hold on to:
- that little grudge; bitter memory
- that bit of 'pleasurable' sin
- that reliance on SELF
- that simmering anger
- that gulf of self-pity
- that selfish pride
- that love of money; crippling covetousness
- that block of self-will
- that sin of omission; excuse for neglect
- that ignorance study would cure
- that time better spent with God
- that disappointment, disturst, disagreement, disillusionment in/with others
- that weighty burden of guilt
- that sense of slight or injury
- that paralyzing fear
- that ugly envy
- that lazy apathy
- that grief and pain, or secret sorrow

Well, you get the drift of my besetting roadblocks :) Such impediments to peace are harbored in the hidden corners of the heart. Not hidden from God, but held back from His healing. Let's sweep those corners clean (imagine they host huge spiders that build sticky webs and draw flies) and put the trash in God's dustbin. He will sort it with caring Hands; and we will have complete freedom and joy.

Long for His wisdom
Live in His light
Love as He loves
Let go...and LET GOD.

TIMELESS TREASURES

2007-12-27T15:28:00.000-05:00

My Grandpa Grover had gifted hands. He could play the fiddle, carve a wooden chain from single block of wood, make furniture, including weaving cane chair bottoms and hew cemetery stones. That’s likely just the few of his talents. Remarkable genes and my DB, Andy, helped himself to a share of them, I’d guess. Just look at this table top!!! I cannot imagine thinking this design through, much less executing it in wood. What a piece of art.

Don’t think Andy hogged all those genes, though. There are several other gifts among us to carry on Grandpa Grover’s legacy. But when I remember Grandpa, I don’t think first of fiddles or chains or chair bottoms. I think of hymns and smiles and prayers. And I’m glad – for these are eternal … a timeless legacy that has blessed so many through generations.

WHERE DID I GO WRONG?

2007-12-21T12:39:00.000-05:00

It's amazing how much Miss Molly looks like my dad and

Miss Oe looks like my mom. Grandmothers leave their mark!

So, laying aside a sewing task for today, I turn to the computer corner. Five pair of pirate pants in a row, and the first of the front plackets sewn in is a puckerdy mess. I don’t know what I did wrong…it looked so smooth when I was sewing it together. But I figure tomorrow is soon enough to figure it out. Some days you get the bear and some days the bear gets you. And I’ve reached the stage of life where I figure it’s better to leave some things alone to fix later if it’s not working out. It’s surprising how well DD Laurie’s “step back” admonition works…and how many stops for later fixing crop up these days.

We’re easing into holiday times with our usual not much fluff and frill. There are reasons a-plenty for being content -though I miss the charm that children add to such times. The Barn is dry and warm; the icicle lights hanging from the cross beams make me feel like a little girl again; we’ve had many sweet greetings from family and friends; and are blessed with warm memories of loving times with so many from the year now passing and those gone before.

The year is winding down and we’re getting reflective. What’s a year without a few bumps in the road? And thankfully things are evening out quite nicely, bumps and all – thank you, Lord. And what’s the prospect of a new year without great anticipation? I think New Years is my favorite holiday. We all need a fresh start from time to time and there’s just something invigorating about God’s gift of a clean slate and new time in which to do a little better!

Enjoy your holidays!

DONE DEALS

2007-11-27T09:51:00.000-05:00

DH and I finished separate November projects yesterday...just in the nick of time, for November is surely almost over.

November means deer hunting in WV. I think I'm thankful that DH's ardor has waned in that arena. We still like to can/freeze/smoke the meat; but the whole process is a lot of work for two old folks. Now instead of trying for the 5-6 he would be allowed to harvest between bow, rifle and muzzleloader seasons, DH is content to have gotten a nice big doe with the rifle and anticipate another try with the muzzleloader. The die was cast when he had to lug that big doe up the bank - which in this case was a near 90-degree slope. He was about as tired as I've ever seen him that day, the next day when heskinned and cut the meat and several days later when he smoked and ground what wasn't frozen. We do like those smoked venison hams/roasts, though.

A while back I gave a wonderwallet as a courtesy gift and the recipient was so tickled with it she asked if I could make some for her to give her church friends next month. I don't think she'll need more than half of these, but it was just as easy to cut two from each fabric as one. I can always use such things in my ditty stash. If you're looking at the buttons, you might want to know I've decided the flat ones are much better. The shank buttons, thought showy, add bulk and the whole purpose of the wonder wallet is to be able to tuck it in a small pocket. But I do suppose that if your jeans are too tight to acccomodate a shank button, they're likely too tight anyway.

Today DH will pick up our next to oldest DGS Jonathan for a visit. Life is good.

TALES OF THANKSGIVING...

2007-11-21T11:32:00.000-05:00

Fron the Family Album 1990

(Cousin Vernon Miller would ask, "Was It 20 Years Ago, Or Yesterday...")

. . .are so new they are nearly obscured by proximity. As I type, the Moyers are driving back to Louisville. Craig is working his Saturday After shift at Radio Shack and Lisa's out grocery shopping. David is likely replacing the washer pump that left puddles of water on the floor this week, while Beccie tends their pretty ones. Bill extends his friendly hand at 84, while Nina and Joseph snuggle up for a nap on the couch ( I haven’t phoned to verify that news, but I am fairly certain it is accurate.) Papa has had his lunch and is scratching his head over the next procedure. With washer and dryer wheezing and thl~ping in the background, I am enjoying a fresh pot of coffee and the next to the last piece of pumpkin pie. Life after holidays returns to normal.

At this particular point in time, I am beginning to feel a certain affinity with the Hebrews whose nostrils tired of quail. Turkey, turkey everywhere – more than we all could eat. I thought I'd get a jump on the plan and cook one bird two days ahead of schedule. That way, I'd have broth for dressing and leftover meat for the day after. It worked. Laurie also brought a smoked turkey (which matched my first in size) for next day sandwiches. The "real thing" was a 20 lb. baby – and would no doubt have been sufficient in its own right. Of course the good intentions of the cooks were complicated by several factors – the first of which was a nasty virus which sent David and Beccie as far away from food in general, and turkey in particular, as they could get (and home a day early, sob...sob...sob), and the last of which was the "Chili's Fever" that often attacks the Moyers and Koens simultaneously. (They left a note saying they would have waited and taken us with them, but were afraid if they stayed another minute they would succumb and become desperate enough to eat turkey instead. . . and were obviously unwilling to risk that calamity.) Laurie could not be persuaded to take a single slice back with her, either, but that complication (and accompanying morning distress) should disappear come early April and a new little Moyer. But a mother never gives up. I packed one bag off to Lisa and Craig (newlyweds always welcome an extra package in the fridge, I think) and will divide the rest between tomorrow's company and frozen trays for Papa to nuke while I'm exercising. No little gobbler ... or two or three ... is gonna get the best of me!

Lest you think the Thanksgiving Table a failure, lets reverse this tape to mid-Thursday. Get your drinks and Chex snacks, settle in, REWIND: whir-r-r-r, static, snow, STOP – here we go.

For all its preparation (or because of all the helpful pre-preparation) the day has a casual, unhurried feeling about it. Breakfast at ten, with sourdough pancakes and sausage, leaves room for plenty of time between meals. Mama even slips off to rest her back, read a letter, take a short nap beside baby Hannah and dream pleasantly of home. There is no need to rush the clock – just take time as it passes and enjoy it.

It’s raining lightly outside. Papa and "the boys" are laboring (or so they would have us believe) in concert at the barn. The kitchen is at last beginning to fill with warm, sage-tinted shades of baking. Ten pounds of potatoes (yes, the whole bag of Idahos) are peeled and chill in water 'til a later hour. Alabama biscuits are set out for rising on the table. A sweet potato casserole and onion pie have taken their early turn in the oven. Two side pans of dressing wait for the turkey to finish its shift -- one is ordinary, the other boasts of sausage, apples and almonds, just for variety. A cranberry mold will soon be turned out and garnished with Mandarin oranges. [Since only one can of oranges will be required, Laurie and Nina and Beccie nibbled on the other as they shaved the spuds. . .and any cook knows it doesn't take nearly as long (or as much help) to eat a can of Mandarin oranges as it does to pare 10 pounds of potatoes.] A spicy brew of cranberry/apple/orange juice simmers in the crockpot, ready to be sipped at will, but we're too busy stirring around, talking, knitting, tending babies to remember it is there. All that remains to be done is make a bowl of cole slaw, put the green beans in the pot, boil and whip the potatoes, set the table, wait for the guys and put this show on the road. . .or, more precisely, the table.

My memories drift off to my first baked bird : Thanksgiving 1964, in Pennsylvania. We were "boarding" with the Hetzers the week before we moved to Oxford. Our hosts were visiting West Virginia, so Papa and I and 3-month old David were on our own. We couldn't afford a turkey, so we bought a chicken and baked it with dressing. I was so afraid the meal would be a flop, but it was delicious and the day a special memory. There we were...no immediate job or money or place to live; and all kinds of hope and faith and love for the family we were beginning. And here we are. . .that family extended many-fold, our faith rewarded abundantly, our love expanded timelessly, our hopes renewed continually. And, as I travel back to the present, I see children, where we were then. . . and wonder at the circle of our lives. GOD IS GRACIOUS.

The door rattles and in come the carpenters. One by one they whisk quickly off to shower while all hands man the deck at stove-side. That corner is crowded as Papa carves the turkey, Mama stirs the gravy (and almost burns the biscuits) and Nina whips the potatoes (in two rounds). All done, we clasp our hands and listen to the patriarch of Teel-dom speak of love and happiness well wrapped up in the moments that we share as family. Thank you, Lord, for such as he. And in the words of one now round the feast in Florida, "Amen, Go."

But wait. . . . .I didn't tell you about dessert. What? There's more? There is for sure! Nina prepared it all with her own little hands while Joseph rode 'long side to keep her going. If I didn't know better (or didn't want to brag) I'd say she shipped straight from the Greenbrier. For the eyes....what a gorgeous array! There's pumpkin pie (one standard), cranberry-mincemeat pie (with pretty peek-a-boo circles cut in the top crust), chocolate mousse cake (600 calories per 1/2 inch slice, should have been called "death by chocolate"), pumpkin cheese cake with sour cream glaze (embellished with pecans and slivers of orange peel – beautiful!) and grasshopper delight graham cracker pie (a marbled, minty cream cheese/whipped cream filling atop a chocolate mint base). If I've missed anything, I could clearly plead omission on grounds of being overwhelmed.....or over dosed, maybe. Incredible... just incredible!

And that, my dears, is about all the Thanksgiving that any of us can stand – for most of us (with the possible exception of sweet William) are probably due to repent today and diet tomorrow.

WAR AND PEACE

2007-11-10T08:46:00.000-05:00

Shifting echoes fill the hallway,
Shadows move within the light
Weaving fear and grief and courage
Through the tapestry of night.
Here reflection comes to surface
In the images of dreams
Once a distant recollection
Suddenly a clear-cut scene
Of remembrance, ever haunting,
Etched in fire upon the soul
And no length of time or space
Can move beyond its seared control.

Though the heart would draw its curtains
Round this memory and abide
In the gentle breeze of autumn,
Still the ever-rolling tide
Can so quickly recollect
The vision seen so long before
In the far-off realm of youth
Held in the deathly grip of war.

Who can know the pain they suffer
Hidden ‘neath the cloak of life?
Who can touch the wounds they carry
Deeper than the surgeon’s knife?
Who can count their sacrifices,
Or extol the gift of those
Who, with courage far from human
Face the terror of such foes?

God alone can see the battle,
Know the hearts by duty stirred;
Understand the need and anguish
Found upon that foreign sod.

God alone provides the comfort,
Strength and hope to light the way
From those paths of bleak destruction
To that bright, eternal day
Where all pain will be forgotten,
Every tear counted and dried
Swallowed up in joy and glory
By the grace of One who died
That the souls of every race may know
The power of His blood
To bring peace and reconcile
Our souls within the Love of God.

*****

There are stories yet unwritten
In the wrinkles on their face
Heads of snow bow down in mem’ry
Of that distant time and place -
Of another world, soon slipping
From our chance to truly see
Through their eyes the untold sequence
Changing now in history.

PJT 11/10/07

AUTUMN'S INVITATION

2007-11-01T09:16:00.000-04:00

November shades are dampened

By the coming autumn storm,

Even so the rain cannot decry

Its colors soft and warm.

A blanket of gold leaves is

Spreading comfort on the turf,

And all around the scents of

Changing seasons fill the earth.

How precious are the moments

Passing through the Love of God -

Found in beauty of the hillside,

Drifting leaves and dew-drenched sod.

Will I one day wake in Heaven

And behold with spirit eyes

Glory passing through my vision

Shadowed by these gentle skies?

Well we know that there, God is the

Light, no dimness will abide

Yet within November wakefulness,

Its view of shifting tides,

There is a cycle - woven 'mong

The morning's dawning Grace -

That softly beckons us to come

And bow before His face.

OCTOBER AIR....

2007-10-06T16:42:00.000-04:00

There is something in October

Air that makes the soul feel

Restless - the cool crisp tints

Of gentle summer leaving - the

Space that slips so quickly

Through your hands. Blue skies

Sing out and beckon to incurable

Romantics held in the spun illusion

Of the breeze. Somewhere within

The passage soft and transient, the

Longing comes to seal the scene

Indelibly in memory - to cast

In stone the magic of the hour.

October comes and slips away without

Saying goodbye - so take the cup

And deeply drink the warm sweet

Dew of autumn while you may.

SEPTEMBER MOON

2007-09-27T06:32:00.000-04:00

A big orange moon hangs in the sky
And whistles a soft lullaby
She chuckles gently o'er the spell
She casts across our wishing wells

On such a night dreams dare come true
Magic is found on evening dew
The moonlit path will lead the way
For fairy tunes and elves that play
Along the edges of the wood
Beneath the fringe of autumn's hood

Come out, come out! Come sing and dance
Come join the moonlight's breathless trance
Let laughter sprinkle on the breeze
And music whisper through the trees

A summer lays aside her cloak
The golden hickory, russet oak
Will soon be glist'ning, bare of limb
And lunar light will sing a hymn
Of shifting seasons; changing scenes
Between the layers of our dreams

The big orange moon turns almost white
Bathing the field in shimm'ry light
A vision that cannot remain
When winds blow in a welcome rain

But e'er she slips behind a cloud
The moom and meadow laugh out loud

(pjt 9/27 - perhaps I should title this one "lunar lunacy" :)

TEELSIDE MEMORIES - 20 YEARS AGO TODAY

2007-09-21T10:52:00.001-04:00

A DAY REMEMBERED

For the absolute joy of it. And the beauty. And the myriad of reasons to be grateful,--children together for a time, helping each other in so many ways, enjoying just being in one another's company. That alone would have been enough to fill my heart to bursting! Nina thought well, to be married in the fall. The air is very special then. Crisp, clear skies over the Kanawha. A wind that could only whisper with happiness. Sunshine that was as gentle as the dreams of a new bride.

The weekend schedule was filled with endless details that turn now into a kaleidoscope of memories -- blessings, everyone. So many here to help smooth the busy way. Laurie, in her usual capacity, working tirelessly to entertain visitors, prepare food, do dishes, polish Nina's nails (I recall that DS Patsy polished mine on my wedding day, so her presence was felt, even in absence) etc., etc., etc. DS Isobel saved the morn (cramped by a late baking turkey) by whisking away the groom's cake and promising two more pies, eliminating one more detail and an undertow of anxiety. Kathy Jane washed the candlesticks and put her Uncle Wayne in a good humor (some services are valuable beyond measuring). Sweet Nicholas, his eyes alight over a new truck, charmed us with his smiles. Could any smile be as precious as his? The thanks due for food is beyond accounting,--Mother Ruth's and Miss Anita's apple pies, casseroles galore, courtesy of friends and family. Donna Brown kept the tally, Karen and Isobel and Kathy were on hand to pull it all together (and make the decisions beyond the last minute capacity of the mother of the bride--like how to get ice and tea into glasses when it came time to serve).

Meanwhile, on the floor, a group of newlyweds themselves (Becky and David, Laurie and Doy, Kelli and Bruce) tended to decorating tables, folding napkins, placing candles, checking music. . .until there was no more time for details, only the time for new beginnings. And such a beautiful beginning. The clarity of George Winston's piano filled the room and the procession was begun with an air of tranquility. The groom’s mother was seated by her son -- surely she will treasure the memory of his kiss as he seated her beside his grandmother. (Surely his father, so recently lost and sorely missed, would have approved.) Wes, so well chosen as best man, presided over the party with patient precision, perfect timing. We each sat listening in the interludes to the loves that blended in our hearts, joined in waiting for a bride most beautiful. Her father was the only one who felt her trembling -- she looked so serene.

Yet, there of was evidence among the bridal party of the full emotions felt by each. So precious was the sequence. Maid of Honor Lisa's tender tears; the tremor in Bill's voice as he repeated vows; Nina's words--a breath of sweet intensity; Wayne's fervent prayer (deeply felt, truly shared -to bear them safely on). No selection could have been more appropriate than the chords of "Joy" that broke as a recessional, for it was total joy to be a part of this beginning.

Other scenes fall like confetti across the memories of this special occasion: Nina with all the children gathered around; Bill clowning in the high backed chair; Nicholas eating spaghetti; Rebecca collecting flowers, Karen, Kathy and Laurie serving among the tables; the friends and neighbors there to share in the celebration; Nina (who for years has said she wanted pumpkin pie on her wedding table) picking up a piece of peach pie with her dinner; and later in the evening (when tension had subsided) Nina stooping to share a special kiss with Nicholas and Bill whisking Nina up into his arms as if to carry her away.

And so the memories roll in sweet succession.The grand events continued with friends and family close at hand through the next few days. Those of us who were together, thinking of those who had come and gone again, or who were close in mind and heart. I was thankful so many times for the simplicity of Nina's wishes which lent so well to pleasant visitation. Other days can be envisioned, like unto these with their sense of warm communion -- the ties that bind us all together.

PJT: The Family Album, 27 September 1987 – first edition, first article.

EARLY HARVEST

2007-09-11T18:50:00.000-04:00

So the Koen's came a-helping and the little ones went a-playing in the woods. Didn't they have fun building a house in the woods, furbishing it with sticks, stones, moss and hickory nuts!!

Imagination and freedom can take a long journey. On a trek down by the creek, Abe looked up at the big pines and said, 'We could build a fort here - the trees are all in a line." Pretty astute.Every unhinged rock and sapling, along with a few loosely hinged ones, are fair game when children get into the spirit of the woods.

Grandfather was wondering which little Indian relieved the pawpaw tree of it's supporting stake (put there to keep the deer from finding the pawpaws on the lower branches). I'd be guessing, but Abe did bring a sweet boquet of pawpaw leaves to his mother that day.When Grandfather went out this morning to investigate the pawpaw patch, he discovered an early harvest. There they were, all but one of the pawpaw 'eggs' from that tree neatly nested in a soft bed of moss. [He brought them in and put them in the frig, but thinks the picking may be a week or two too previous to allow them to ripen off the tree.]

Me? Well I'm not as fond of pawpaws as is Grandfather, so no doubt I find this considerably more amusing...but I did manage to control my giggles when he brought in 8-9 pawpaws and first relayed the story of their premature harvest.

Babes in the woods -- You gotta love it!

Galloping Red

2007-08-20T15:10:00.000-04:00

Grandma Oe always liked a little red in her quilts. I've mentioned this before, I am sure. The red in this one farely gallops off the surface. Nines sent it back home recently; I'd forgotten all about it; and now it is a quilt all done. Well....all done but a label, I suppose. But a quilt you've forgotten about all bound up is still a very good deal.

Nines quilted this end-of-red-scraps wonder with sweet swirls and hearts. I love the backing she chose. Had no notion what to do with it; but now have a notion it may make a nice Valentine present for a little friend.

As for the table runners - they go to the tune of "Happy Birthday to We!" While making them it seemed a good idea for sisters to have tables that ran alike...so I added a third one to go along with DTS and DS's -- for me. After all, my birthday is in July too. Mine gave me something to practice on, which was a good thing. Nines suggested doing these bindings on the machine since they will be washed more often than a quilt. So I did. Still need some MORE practice, but I'm sure from now on any hand binding will be reserved for hand-quilted pieces only. Woo-hoo! This is so much quicker and looks fine...if you follow Nines' instructions and go slowly, three inches at a time. The little bamboo stylus DS gave me for guiding curved seams worked well as a tool of choice for holding the binding steady on the top side, too.

Now these month-late runners need to find their little way into envelopes and on to OH and MD tables.

"Happy Birthday to We!"

"Happy Birthday all Three!"

"Happy Birthday to We!"

TOO SWEET TO STASH....EXPOUNDED

2007-08-18T08:46:00.000-04:00

When "My Brother" 's son posted that TOO SWEET TO STASH poem [see July 20, 2007] on the family site, he asked is sister to expound. She did so beautifully and her detail adds such life to the lines, I couldn't stash it without sharing it as well.

Description: I'll let Judy fill in the description.

Okay, here goes. I will also note that Dad was 18 years old when Uncle Jake was born. Each stanza is about a specific incident or incidents. The first stanza tells of events on December 18, 1930, the night Uncle Jake was born. Dad walked to Rosedale to get Dr. Roberts. Once we got telephones, every Dec. 18 Dad would call Uncle Jake and and say something like "Brrrrrrrr, my feet sure are getting cold, just thinking about what I did ___ years ago tonight.

"The second and third stanzas refer to December 1936 when Dad was stricken with spinal meningitis. (By the way, the ambulance was a big truck owned by Eck Norman. A mattress was placed on the bed of the truck and some way, a canvas tarpaulin was tied over the side rails and top of the truck in order to give some protection from the December weather.) Dad always felt that the prayers of Uncle Jake and Grandpa (who spent most of the night praying), were the reason he recovered. The doctors had told Grandpa that he would not survive. Dad remembered (in his delirium) hearing the doctors, who were standing at the foot of his bed, talking. One said to the other, "He won't be here tomorrow." Dad took it to mean that he was going to be released from the hospital to go home.

Stanza 4 refers to the time that Grandpa and Stella moved to Sand Fork so Dad and Uncle Harp could go to High School. There was a high hill close to where they lived and Dad would take Uncle Jake (about 3 yrs. old) to the top of the hill and they would watch cars in Sand Fork. They would also fly kites. Dad graduated from high school in 1934, he was 21. He had gone to Rosedale as they kept adding grades, but they only went to the eleventh grade. In order for him to finally finish high school, Grandpa moved to Sand Fork for a few months. In February or March, the family moved back to Tanner and Dad and Uncle Harp rented a house in Lockney and rode the bus to Sand Fork to finish that year of school.

Stanza 5 refers to home experiences and to times when Dad was in college. One day Minnie Nicholas had come to the house to get a bucket of milk and she had set it down on the porch above the steps to talk with Stella a little while. Uncle Jake (about 6 or 7 years old) said he was aiming to kick over the bucket, but anyway, he yelled to the other boys there, "Catch it, boys!" Well, he kicked the bucket and all the milk was spilled. His mother started to him to paddle him and he said two big arms ran under his arms and picked him up and ran down to the Brady place (Homer Sampson's) and he and dad played around down there until Stella had cooled off and wouldn't punish him as hard.

Uncle Jake slept with Dad and each night Dad would race him to bed. Dad usually won. Many times he would go outside, crawl in the bedroom window, get in bed, and then say, "Jake, when are you coming to bed?" This usually started a fight and they would have to race again and "do it fair."Dad didn't have much money while he attended college, but he would always manage to bring Uncle Jake a small toy or peanuts or candy when he would (walk) come home from Glenville on the weekends. The book incident is self explanatory.

Stanza 6 refers to the time when Dad first started to Glenville State College. He walked to Glenville and didn't have the 50 cents necessary to stay in the Whiting Hotel so he went to the sheriff who permitted him to sleep in an empty cell that night. Before the next night, he had contacted a local farm family who agreed that he could do work for them in the evenings and every other weekend as partial payment for room and board.

Stanza 7: Stella died in April 1944. Vernon was 14 years old. In 1946, he came to live with my parents and go to school. In the winter, Uncle Jake had only a thin poplin jacket and he was walking to Shock (1 1/2 Miles) to catch the school bus to Normantown High School. Dad took him a special trip to Glenville to get him a heavy winter coat. Uncle Jake kept that coat until the the 1970's when a neighbor in Montana lost his clothing in a housefire and he gave him the coat.

Stanza 8 refers to Chester Nicholas who at the age of 16 had reported his age as 18 and had joined the army in World War II. He survived some rough battles and when he came home on leave, he refused to return. MPs were sent in to get him and he was facing the possibility of a court martial. Dad wrote to his commanding officer and explained the circumstances and that Chester had entered the service at a young age. He asked that all the circumstances be considered in the decision to be made. Chester did not receive a court martial.

The last verse is self explanatory. (I bet you won't ask me to add another description. I never know when to stop …J.M.K.)

A LITTLE TEXTURE IN MY LIFE

2007-08-14T15:41:00.000-04:00

A friend handed off some swatches of upholstery textiles. Most was too heavy and small for piecing, so -- of course -- it migrated to the postcard stash. And what fun it has been.

As you can see, the swatches came in all sorts of colors and styles. These designs are very simplistic, but with all those textures not a lot of embellishment is needed. The buttons came from a bag purchase and ironically - or not - the white ones are stamped "idle time." Guess this is how I have been spending some idle time of late.

The fall assortment grew out of a September morning mood.

DH dubbed my postcard collection: "PENI POSTCARD" s. Now isn't he clever! Why didn't I think of that? Maybe I'm not so clever, but I am smart enough to know a good thing when I see it penned on the back of a postcard. "Peni Postcard" it will stay.

BREAKFAST ANYONE?

2007-08-06T13:36:00.000-04:00

It's odd - the different breakfast traditions in different areas. This one is likely as colloquial and my hill billy accent and ever a favorite. We called these 'creamed tomatoes' growing up. Some folks call it tomato gravy. Best made with home-canned tomatoes or juice (I used a quart that didn't seal on Saturday - likely excuse). No sugar, please, for me. DSis's "boys" don't like those "pi-son" chunks, so she uses juice.

As a child, I ate them on a plate, with butter melting in the tomatoes and bits of buttermilk biscuits dipped in the buttery spots. I still prefer them served that way. DH eats his from a bowl, poured over a buttered biscuit. Mine cool down faster, which was good in the days I could have a second serving.

Creamed tomatoes and sausage are a good combination, too. And yes, any time of day is good. When the kids were home they made a quick and easy supper. Those biscuits look a bit puny - but it is nearly impossible to make mile-high biscuits with less than a cup of flour, you know.

And yes, that stick of butter was indented by the roll of a corn cob. Ah, summer!

SHOCK THERAPY

2007-08-01T11:23:00.000-04:00

Back trailing the paths through Shock WV is very good therapy. I recommend it highly.

The garden is coming in - I will not say with a vengeance for fear of discrediting the Lord who blesses us all so liberally. My DH does most of the IN garden labor, but the coming of the garden always takes me back to what I knew first. It takes a good while to scrub down beets, so this morning I laced my Miller bones with a good dose of tylenol, tied up my best sneakers, put my Vernon Miller CD on high volume and went to work. At the sink, scrubbing is a nearly mindless task that allows you to gaze out the window at WV woodlands, soak up the sounds of Vernon's guitar (don't you just like those doubly strummed chords that go, jingle-jingle?) and be drawn to roots. That's easily done with garden fare afoot. I drift back up that dusty Tanner road, fringed with half-runners and tomatoes in the gardens, waist high rhubarb, corn beginning to tassle, hay stacks dotting the meadows and canning jars sunning on the fence posts. If the locals lacked full pockets, they did not lack full lives and hearts and a mind to enjoy working the land. Would that all children could know the wonder of summers in Shock! Such a bright and peaceful place; such dear hearts and gentle people. And no wonder I enjoy canning so - some of that industry just had to rub off.

Like several of my cousins native to Shock, I have A-negative blood...seldom a postive matter. Still, I am thankful every day for the Shock factor that runs through my veins. I'll loan you some if you need it.

For those of you who are wondering, I do cook the beets just so. Leaving the root and a bit of stems means they bleed less, retain more of that wonderful red color. After stewing and cooling the roots and stems are trimmed and the peel slips off easily. They are then ready to eat - any which way you like them.

TOO SWEET TO STASH

2007-07-20T20:12:00.000-04:00

A cousin recently sent me a copy of this poem. It was written by another "first cousin once removed" for his older brother, Bob. I requested a copy of the poem when I heard it read on a DVD by brother Bob - thought I'd really like a hard copy in my files. Now that I have the hard copy in hand, I think it far too nice to stash away in a file somewhere. Before doing that, I just want to share it. It's one of those Shock WV legacies.

MY BROTHER

One night in December
A long time ago
When the earth was cold
And covered with snow
As a prisoner at dawn
From his warm bed is torn
On this night of all nights
I chose to be born.
Who then that night
For the doctor would go
Walking for miles
In the cold and the snow?
MY BROTHER!

I remember our home
Was saddened one day
A terrible sickness
It was so they say
And then on the day
That the ambulance came
Who didn’t hear
When they called out his name?
MY BROTHER!

I wanted to cry
And I felt so alone
When the doctors all said
That he’d never come home,
But I couldn’t believe
That he would die there.
And who was it for
That I said my first prayer?
MY BROTHER!

How was it I went
To that hill every day
To look at the cars
On the road far away
And who took me there
To fly the big kite
And taught me to do
My arithmetic right?
MY BROTHER!

When I’d misbehave
With some foolish fun
And my parents got made
Who would grab me and run?
And who was it
That raced me to bed every night
And brought me some toys
To fill with delight,
And even at times
His meals he forsook
To save enough money
To buy me a book?
MY BROTHER!

To school I would go
Some young men will say
But who for the books
And tuition would pay?
I knew a young man
Who slept in a jail
In a small college town
By the name of Glenville;
He worked for a farmer
His money to earn
And who was this kid
With a hunger to learn?
MY BROTHER!

When my mother died
Who sent me to school
And treated me gently
When I was a fool?
Who bought me a coat
To help keep me warm
And loved me and spoiled me
Since the day I was born?
MY BROTHER!

A young man returned
From the war once to find
That the killing and carnage
Had messed up his mind
No one seemed to care
That for them he had fought
Now that he was home
And in trouble a lot
Compassion he needed
But nobody would
When he needed so badly
Who understood?
MY BROTHER!

I just can’t imagine
How it would have been
My life as a kid
If it wasn’t for him
But I’m sure there are many
Who feel that way
Whose lives he has touched
In some kind of way
In this whole world I’m sure
There isn’t another,
A man among men,
Bob Miller!
MY BROTHER!

Vernon D Miller
July 1974

YOU CAN'T HURRY LOVE..

2007-07-13T10:43:00.000-04:00

Angel #17 - not much of an angel baby anymore...but still all angel Abe from here.

...you just have to wait.

I was trying to hurry little table runners along and scurry was disastrous. After taking two or three seams out, I decided to pile it up for the day. Two days later it went smoothly enough. The runners are pieced and off to Nines in today's mail. But don't hurry, love, we can wait until you're ready for the quilting.

This week has brought good rain and a break in the heat. The garden is happy and I am tempted to coulnt my canning jars before they seal. I even bought sugar this week for jam. How's that for hope! Nix on the low-sugar; sugar free tries. Real jam spread thinner will do as well and more often turn out like it should.

We had a very pleasant Miller reunion. I took a dozen postcards to the auction, they all sold, so now I need to replenish my supply. Alas, I have 12 mocked up (with heat n bond) and stabilizer enough for only half that. Guess I can be choosy and get JoAnne on the line for finishing out more in due time. No hurry, it's just something I'd rather do than work, you know.

Meanwhile back to the old exercise routine and the cookstove. DH is down picking cabbage and onions for soup, even as we speak.

NOTE: That head of cabbage weighed in at 9 lbs...took 1/8 of the head for a large pot of soup.

REUNION TIME...AGAIN

2007-07-07T06:56:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday, Dear Sis

Today's the day for the G.C.Miller family reunion. Cooking is simpler than usual for me - yeast rolls are in the works and DH dug some new potatoes to go with green beans (home canned, as the new ones aren't bearing yet). I may throw in some fresh cooked squash. DSis is bringing chicken and cookies. That sounds like round enough menu for the two of us.

I look forward to the reunion as it is a once-a-year chance to hug some very dear folk. Today is DSis's birthday so that will be a special hug, now won't it. Lot's of good food, an auction which may have an heirloom or two included, a little singing and sometimes, even some live guitar, madolin, fiddle playing. What's not to like about that!

And there will be a tinge of sadness. How can you go to your Mom's family reunion and not miss your mommy? Also a sweet cousin lost her husband this spring and two dear uncles may not be well enough to attend. Reason enough to share and be grateful for those extra hugs!

Guess it's time to go scrub those taters...

VACATIONitis

2007-07-01T18:24:00.000-04:00

Most folks get vacationitis when they've worked hard and long and need a good break. My case is the after-the-fact version. Bags are unpacked. I just cut up the stale steak rolls to soak overnight and bake into pudding tomorrow. The laundry will also wait for tomorrow. My heart is still in TN with all those happy scenes, my bones are still on the road and my head is still in a fog. This might be a good place to sign out...

What a wonderful week we had! The cabins were the nicest we've ever had: Top of Townsend is just a hop away from Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge, but well secluded. We managed to avoid the tourist race for the most part. We did drive over to Cade's Cove one day. It was our second visit there...we like the atmosphere and were able to see deer, turkeys and a black bear this time, which was nice. Otherwise, we just hung around visiting between kin and let younger bones do the tubing and hiking.

Evening meals were pitch-ins mainly with plenty of fare for an army (a Teel reunion trait). The second night a family friend provided T-Bones and desserts for everyone (53 minus a few who requested chicken). What a spread! The picnic area where we met for supper was a bit crowded, but I didn't hear any complaints. After supper on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, we sang for spell. It was great four-part harmony and especially tender for this GM when those hymns were led by grandsons. Singing is a precious heritage, I think; and my heart leaps up to see children and grandchildren continuing to enjoy that tradition.

(I still remember the time when my grown children were visiting and sang late into the night...I was recovering from surgery, I think...anyway; I retired early and they sang me to sleep. It's a lovely memory.)

We always say this is for the children. And oh, it is good to see those cousins build relationships with each reunion. But I am sure they could not have more pleasure than we have watching them. They hiked, tubed, made flip-flops and wallets out of duct tape and tie-dyed shirts. The second generation guided scrapbook making sessions which produced lovely appreciation scrapbooks for each of the first generation Teels. One of the highlights of the week is always the talent show. The elders abandoned the youngsters this year, but the cousins had no trouble filling the bill, believe me. A lot of talent - a whole lot of talent - entertained and amused us for the evening. From violin solos, to Shakespeare recitations, to be-bop, to movie themes, to hilarious skits. I look forward to the talent show more than the food, really!

It was extra nice to have a dear friend join us this year. When I hugged her at church this morning I had to admit it was going to pretty hard to be separated from her sweet presence. (One granddaughter had named her the queen of num-nums - she is dear to us all)

It may take a day or two for the V-itis to wear off. Meanwhile, we'll deal with the left-overs, do the wash, clean the Barn a bit and try not to scratch the bug bites. After that we'll seriously delve into THREE four-inch binders FULL of ancestry information collated by our DD's DMIL over the last months.

We have been so blessed!!!

HEM-HAWING AROUND

2007-06-22T08:24:00.000-04:00

I should be packing. The Teel Family Reunion convenes in Townsend TN next week - we'll be leaving Monday AM and return Sat, Lord willing. But I'm not packing. I'm not cleaning or washing. I'm sewing. Go figure.

Well, Wayne's Aunt Margaret has been passing along bags of fabric long stored in some forgotten closet corner. Some, was unusable, even for piecing, but some looked like play clothes to me. So I've been making a few jumpers, nighties and play pants for my "little" granddaughters. They're not so little any more, but still can get by on smaller yardage and aren't at all picky about Grandmother's stitching. This is a lot more fun than washing, packing or cleaning. So today I will do the wash and finish one last jumper; tomorrow I clean up the Barn a little; packing can wait 'til Sunday.

A dear friend's mother had three girls - she always said "you can't sew and keep house." Sew....the girls were assigned to keep up with her threads and cook, clean and do the dishes. Sounds like a plan...now where are my girls anyway? Probably cleaning, washing and packing...they're better people than I am.

READY - SET - GO

2007-06-18T06:59:00.000-04:00

I have a week to get ready...set...go.

Every other year, the Teel clan merges - usually at some state park - for a reunion week. It gets harder to find as spot as the family expands and it's a lot of work for those who organize it. This year we handed the planning over to the second generation - they appear to be far more capable.

Maybe I don't know where to start because I've already started. A little box is packed with recently sewn items for some of the grandkids. Today DSIL will call and we'll make notes for buying breakfast groceries. This time we'll share a cabin with our Niagara Falls travelers and a dear friend from this area. I'm getting excited!

We will sorely miss our youngest and his family. Try as we may, it happens at times that one or another of us can't make it. And the older those grandchildren get; the more complicated working out schedules becomes - unlike former times when families lived in a near circle, on adjacent farms. Togetherness is a challenge. I'm thankful for computers that link us nicely...but a cyber hug / smile is not quite the same. Tangible warmth lasts longer.

We'll head for Townsend TN next Monday. Maybe by then my bags will be packed and I'll be ready to go.

AWAKENINGS

2007-06-17T06:43:00.000-04:00

The morning wakes in gentleness -
Thin mist between the treetops on the ridges;
The birds begin their anthem to the dawn;
I watch the layers melt and peel,
Light breaking slowly o'er the hill
And shifting grey to tints of verdant summer.

How many times upon the morn
Amid the symphony of dawn
Have I awakened blanketed in wonder?
The Lord is near - His finger moves
To paint the scene with shades of Heav'nly beauty.

So then, my soul begins to stir
To shout with joy, to sing with love
To bow in awe, to wait with faith
And, breathless, see His goodness.

A sacred dawn; a sacred day
Hallowed by sacrifice and ressurection.
Awake! Awake! Break forth in songs
Of gratitude and praise for His redemption!

Hold to the Hand that holds the night,
The day, the sun, the moon - the Light
Reflected by the rays on yon hill rising
That Light will guide, will wash in peace
The heart that seeks His righteousness
...as surely as His Power has come
To gild the dawn with glory.

TEELSIDE MAILBAG

2007-06-15T20:19:00.000-04:00

Yesterday's country lunch and company were a fine thing. Another couple - dear friends from OH - came over as well. We had a lovely visit!

Today I was ready for some sit-down amusement, so I carted out the scrapbooking/card making supplies DS shared with me when I was in MD last month. It had been long enough for me to forget about most of her little goodies, so I had some fun playing around with them. I can see where the cards could get more and more involved. . . No doubt I'll mess up a few of these when I get around to writing inside. Perhaps I will print/paste message sheets inside when something other than just a note card is in order. We'll see. Seven seemed fair progress, quite easy/enjoyable and were considerably faster than postcard making. [BTW, DS - the stencils worked nicely with fearthered colored pencil strokes, a little heavier where I wanted shading.]

Joyce and Janet, sisters among yesterday's company, were interested in the postcards. I think Janet does many crafts and was excited to see something that hadn't come to her neck of the woods yet. Went ahead and passed along the little postcard "kit" DS made for a quilting guild session she taught on postcards. But, I forgot to warn Janet about how addictive it is. As an aside, I'm amazed at how much zip and sparkle a few layers of sheer ribbon adds to the postcards - but the ribbon won't take as much heat, so last stages of heat'n'bond need more care so that sparkle doesn't fizzle. (Ask me how I know...sigh)

I've been mailing more of my fabric postcards of late and with a few paper greeting cards out of the chute I am imagining card store days are over. That's just as well, as we get out of the boonies less and less often. That must be a good thing, seeing as how it takes as long to clean up the mailbag mess as it does to make the cards.

A CHANGE OF SCENERY

2007-06-14T07:00:00.000-04:00

Time for changes...just little ones.

It will be a nice, busy day. Dear friends are coming for a late lunch. Plans are for a veggie plate - new kale and wilted lettuce from the garden, creamed corn from the freezer, creamed tomatoes w/macaroni from the canning shelf and mashed potatoes (creamy, we hope) and a fruit salad. Sounds a little starchy, but maybe the greens will balance it out. And maybe I'll salad some eggs for protein. [When the kids were small, I didn't like to use the phrase "deviled" so we call them salad eggs.]

So, if company is coming, what am I doing here? I'm posting just because I can. In short order, with the new DSL hookup. No more waiting 5-10 minutes to share a picture or look at one. Sweet! And instantI spell-checking - even sweeter! We've had DSL for two days and DH/I haven't fought over it once...yet. I see new addictions coming on. He had such fun watching all the space shuttle videos last night. I guess we're out of the boonies now. The best part is an open phone line. But quick or no, this will not sweep the floor or make a fruit salad (two quiet chores while DH finished his nighty-nap). Poke a fork in me...I'm done.

SOMEONE SO VERY SPECIAL....

2007-06-13T09:45:00.000-04:00

..was born on this day. What a blessing for us all!

HE DID IT!

2007-06-10T16:14:00.000-04:00

God did it, but the experiment is a success. For long years DH has been interested in grafting...and this spring he finally tried his hand at it. It was funny watching him, knife or pruners in one hand and the Stark how-to booklet in the other. I think he was a bit surprised to see one graft bloom (a golden delicious grafted on to a red delicious) and now hold five apples.

Almost as surprised as I was to find I could use the photo site to put the picture on here. Thanks for the hint, sis.

Several other grafts look quite healthy and may have fruit next season. Next month he'll try doing some bud grafts. One thing I love about DH - he's always interested in learning new things!

MIXED GREENS

2007-06-06T18:49:00.000-04:00

Mom used to pick mixed greens in the spring. It was our 'spring tonic.' She knew plantain, cress, dandylion, poke and a host of other edibles. As with a lot of things, I wish I could remember; or had paid closer attention. Of the lot we now know, we prefer poke greens best when it can be found. Never understood why some folks call that 'poke salad' - when we parboil the poke sprouts thrice before serving them hot with a touch of vinegar. Maybe it's the vinegar. Whatever you call it, it's very tasty! Of course poke must be picked early, just the first tender sprigs...later and larger is poisonous.

DS sent DH 24 asparagus plants a few years back and that lovely crop along with wilted fresh garden lettuce and green onions have constituted our tonic this spring. Yum! Yum! DH opined at noon that we need to eat more lettuce, to which I replied, "Well, do you want it for breakfast...we're already serving it for lunch and supper?" He just smiled his twinkley-eye smile and kept munching like a little rabbit.

When the weeds all grow together, I know it's getting on to summer. Any mixed greens are a sight for the eye. Ivy and periwinkle co-exist on the other side of the stairs. The snow on the mountain does better here than some places as it is protected from direct sun. I may as well like it, because once established it isn't going anywhere. I don't even mind that sprig of poison ivy...since it's out of reach. This photo was taken a few weeks back and now the hosta hoop around a near dogwood tree is completing the green theme. The beautiful blooms of spring are about gone; but summer in restive shades of green is still a fine thing to behold.

Shhh!!...don't tell ...

2007-06-05T15:44:00.000-04:00

Every quilt has a story….

This one began with a swatch of fabric pilfered (with generous permission) from twin Patsy’s quilt stash. I was quite taken with the maple leaf design and the blue shades with metallic gold outline. The blues (not as green as the look in the closeup) became the focal point for grandson Jon’s graduation quilt. Almost made a career out of this quilt! Began my search for blending fabrics two years ago; and Nina, with her good eye for color, was great help finding pieces here and there. When Nina found the dragonfly print it was a sealed deal and with graduation in sight, I finally buckled down to the job. Nina also supplied the pattern [“Magic” Itza Lulu Designs] I’m happy with the outcome, though I don’t see myself repeating this pattern. Maybe it was my mood, but it seemed almost more challenge than fun…though clearly it would be tempting to try it with more contrast in the colors.

Back to the quilt…Jon is fond of dark blue shades and mentioned once that he liked dragonflies. The ‘flies keep the quilt from being too somber, maybe. Besides, even a very serious young man needs a little whimsy in his life. Nina did her usual fine job of quilting – I love the way her freehand designs pick up the motion of the quilt and fabrics. She even quilted a big dragonfly in the upper corner…I predict it will take Jonathan about 5 seconds to spot that. There are two leftover squares and some binding with which to make a couple of potholders...Jon is a first-class oatmeal cookie baker, you see.

The quilt is titled “Woodlands Moonlight” – most of the fabrics feature leaves or branches in midnight shades. Jonathan loves rambling the woods. When he visits here he’ll tie his boots and head for the hills for a spell every day. I’m reminded of Lew Wetzel (sans vengeance) black hair, long strides off to explore the woods. Jon would scarcely credit my saying so, but he really strikes a romantic picture!

All grandchildren are special. I admire Jonathan most for being a devout Christian, a very hard worker and a deep thinker, serious student. I also enjoy tremendously his ready humor.

That is the beginning of this quilt’s story. The best of the story, as we all know, is in the use of the quilt when it is completed and how those loving stitches bind us together. I have on my dresser a heart shaped piece of one of Mom’s quilts surround by this quote:

Families are like quilts
Lives pieced together
Stitched with smiles and tears
Colored with memories
And bound with love

REMEMBERING MAY

2007-05-31T19:39:00.000-04:00

IN FORMER DAYS....

...when Memorial Day was ON Memorial Day;
...when iris, daisies and peonies were cut, put in cans or jars to take to gravesides - on Memorial Day;
...when most family members spent their entire lives in one community and were there nearby in the family cemetery when time came for honoring their memory;
...when a trip to the cemetery usually meant hiking a hill, walking up a sweat and fighting off a few insects;
...when picnics were eaten on the ground; and old quilts kept the ants at bay;
...when most everyone fixed fried chicken, potato salad and green or baked beans for the picnic menu;
...when being out of school meant a prospect of hazy summer days - swinging and singing under the oak;
...when, the first week out of school, you slathered Crisco on your arms for lotion in hopes that the freckles would run together and make a tan;
...when ice frozen in Campbells soup cans (with a spoon for a licking stick) waited in the frosty freezer for a quick cool down;
...when June was in the wings with full promise of trailing pink roses, morning glories, blackberry vines, and strawberries.

GOOD-BYE MAY....and may JUNE BLOOM beautifully!

WHO COULD RESIST?

2007-05-31T18:34:00.000-04:00

Yes, I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for twins.

When I first saw pictures of these twins (who are new to a cousin's daughter's family), I thought ... what else ..."those two little cherubs need play aprons!" Then this photo showed up on a family website showing the twins on the kitchen counter licking beaters with dish towel drapes and of course, as Nines would say, "It was a SIGN."

I do not know the status/details of their adoption into a sweet family, but I do know the twins appear to be having a fine time of it in their new home! I will mail the aprons off tomorrow with hopes that they'll have many joyous beater licking experiences.

DH's garden looks good, but is sighing for moisture - more than his 5-gallon buckets can deliver from the creek. We're hearing thunder all around...but seeing no rain. Maybe someday...the Lord knows how to send the early and latter rain; and I guess He ought to get to set the rain clock, since He made it.