LOCAL WEATHER

There's been a lot of that going around in WV. The story of the big storm of June 29 is out-dated by now, but still noteworthy. We had little rain but terrific winds. Some places in the state reported 79 mph winds. It sounded like the proverbial freight train coming along the ridge. Terrific wind damage all over the state brought electric power to a halt. The only physical damage at Teelside was a large oak limb that fell on the shed and tore up some of the roof, which was promptly cut away with chain saw by my handy-dandy Wayne Bunyon.  The woods behind us look like a war zone - limbs and trees down all over the place. Looks like some more firewood will be down for the taking in the future.

Our power outage lasted 12 days. Wayne 'babied' the generator night and day all that time. So we lost no food stuffs. Between generator duties and unusually high temperatures he wasn't getting much sleep and not being able to do any computer work was also quite frustrating for him. On the other hand, I made it an opportunity to loaf i.e., read, write, crochet and read some more. For me it seemed a not so unpleasant break in routine, but readily admit I was very glad to be able to do laundry when the power returned.

Early morning balcony time brought these lines.....

JULY AWAKENING

God be praised for morning's dawning,

Birds that warble, mist that cloaks

Yonder ridges with their wonder -

Shifting, subtle, feath'ry strokes;

Cotton candy of the summer

Icing mighty limbs of oak.

July days alight with beauty

Stretching as they yawn awake,

Reaching out in search of heartstrings,

New acquaintances to make;

Every dawn an unclaimed palette

Fresh and clean -- with no mistakes.

What a blessing, what a privilege

That we see God's precious plan:

Time each morn for new beginnings,

Light to guide the path of man,

Ours to take in daily measure,

His to give -- oh, praise His name!

pjt 07/09/2012

FAMILY TIME

TRAVEL ANYONE?

It's that time of year again...the first Saturday of July is soon approaching. That calendar date always marks the Miller Family Reunion. We anticipate joining sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins more than slated activities. But the goings-on are always very interesting - to say the least.

We gather at a community building in Flatwoods WV, which is as close as we can get to a center point for homes that are spread all over the country. As we file in the tables start filling up. One or two for auction items, one for show 'n tell and at least four/five for food and drinks. That ratio seems to work for us.The rest of the cafeteria type tables serve us well for all the conversation that goes along with all the eating.

There are two focal points of entertainment - the auction and our very own country/bluegrass players. To tell the truth, I enjoy the latter more than the former; mostly because seeing/hearing cousins who meet but once a year playing together has to be special. But the auction often features family heirlooms for scrutiny and not a little friendly competition in the bids. After all the food and frolic, our visit usually closes out with a bit of hymn singing. A Miller reunion would be incomplete without that!

In keeping with a long-standing habit of taking something I've crafted for the auction, the quilted travel/cosmetic pictured above are this year's contribution. Along with a couple locker-hooked hot pads. Talk about contrast. As for locker hooking, I find it difficult to hook and wrap the outer edges as instructed, so the border on the pink one is experimentally crocheted with matching yarn. That's still the hardest part of a craft I really enjoy, but the crochet is much easier on my fingers. Have also discovered if I fold a bit more of the mesh under, line up the squares and steam press it the borders will stay 'steam glued' in place - stiff but simpler to hook. As for the yarn and washing? Guess we'll find out how that works later.

While in travel bag mode I went ahead and made four total. They got easier as I went along. It would have been a better idea to assembly line the processes, but that was not practical in this case because each bag needed a different color thread. It taxed me quite enough to switch the even-feed, zipper and satin-stitch presser feet, without the bother of changing thread and bobbin at the same time. With this much practice, though, perhaps the pattern will seem a bit less confusing the next time it's used. That's me, an eternal optomist. For now the extra bags will be stashed in the quilt vault until a token gift is needed.

With all this rambling it would seem I risk breaking the hard & fast rule of Teeldom bannishing boredom. For appearances sake, we'll just say my mind is mindless, taking a wee ramble - boring, perhaps,...but I am not bored. That's my story........

  

WASHING DISHES

There was a day that I thoroughly disliked that task. But these days, it is an enjoyable process almost always. Who could disdain standing before the window watching rabbits scamper and birds feed in the summertime? Or not take pleasure in seeing woodsheds that are full and brimming over as a backdrop to thickly falling snow?

Life speeds by through the kitchen window of the Barn. It would be a shame to spoil this process with an automatic dishwasher; besides I am the automatic dishwasher.

Another chore I used to dread was laundry. No more. I may continue to wonder how long I'll be (reasonably) stable walking the outdoor stairways down to the lower floor where the washer and dryer live; or what stored item or tool might reach out to grab me as I enter; and I will definitely keep my eyes open for snakes visiting close by the outdoor stoop as I go to and fro, as I've met them along that path before. But as long as I can complete the process of sort/wash/dry/fold/hang/put-away before noon, I remain a very happy Teelside camper.

Washing...it all began with a wringer washer and no automatic dryer. How well I remember those frigid winter winds of Pennsylvania that froze diapers and work uniforms stiff as boards. But who among us doesn't love folding baby clothes? Dealing with work clothes...not so much.

Of course, the common perpetrator in the demise of housekeeping pleasure is increasing task loads that automatically grow with a growing family. O.K., O.K. There is that likely degree of procrastination in the mix. Dishes and laundry can stack up pretty quickly. My mother had it right - take care of it as you go along. Or enter FlyLady.com. Not that I am faithful to FlyLady - but I do check in with her lanch pad every so often just for entertainment. And that entertainment has generated a few good habits - like a clean sink at bedtime (most of the time), for instance.

Rambing done. On now to making a bit of bread pudding with bread that procrastinated until it became stale. And then to cleanup of the mess I'll make, remembering that Grandma Oe would say one needs "to rid up the dishes."

HONOR IN HOSPITALITY

A Place for Serenity

Life can be hectic, busy, rushed ... sometimes overwhelming. Whew! An ounce of rest and a pound of serenity sets all to rights again. And then there are the times when those hectic, rushed and busy days are found to be totally refreshing. This often happens with occasions of simple hospitality.

There is always heightened anticipation in plans to meet new faces and share time with other Christians. Common bonds, mutual friends - from all over the globe - and collective goals sweeten the pot of preparation immensely. The little added tasks of cleaning, cooking and arranging schedules beforehand mix with  pleasant expectancy of time to be shared in the company of good people.  We had just such an experience with our weekend visitors.

The Gentry family came to us by way of Tennessee, Indiana and Moldova. They didn't plan to be back in the states on furlough quite so soon as three months after starting a work in Moldova, but the wheels of foreign legalities grind very slowly and their visa ran out prematurely. Their loss is our gain.

Furlough my eye ... the three month interim required before returning to Moldova has been for them a whirlwind of travel, testimony and teaching. It is no small thing to pack and drag a family of five all over the place, but they are young and so very dedicated to the Lord's service and the spreading of His gospel that they seem to scarcely notice the inconveniences. And so it is they arrived at Teelside for a three-day work-hard and sleepover.

Most often we think of hospitality as being a way to bestow honor on our visitors, and rightly so. But there is another, I think equal if not surpassing, honor in hospitality. That is the privilege that is held in showing hospitality for others. This is especially true when guests are as agreeable as the Gentry family.

We will warmly recall the children's cheerful occupancy. So courteous, so grateful for any little attention. (I know some parents that have done an amazing job of teaching grace and manners.) And their sweet parents were equal joy to have around. When guests are thankful and show themselves adaptable to any and all circumstances ... including eating cereal, hot dogs and sandwiches, sleeping on the floor and sharing a single bathroom for the duration ... their hosts cannot help but feel honored to have them.

What good times. Not surprisingly, the members of God's family at Clendenin were refreshed and encouraged by both the presence of and interaction with the Gentry family. It does strengthen our faith, hope and joy to meet other Christians and hear reports of the fruit of the gospel thriving in distant lands.

When the time came, we sent them on their way (somewhat reluctantly) with newfound love in our hearts and prayerful petitions for God's richest blessings throughout their pilgrim journey. We trust as well that every minute of our hospitality was spent in honor of the Lord that made such sweet communion possible.

MAY SLIPS AWAY

Just last week I was roaming Teelside camera in hand looking for lingering signs of spring. Changing seasons always call out to be recorded. And for good reason: no two sets of seasonal photos are the same...similar, but not the same. Flowers take turns; one year the daffodils and iris excel, the next year the peonies outshine them all. Trees and shrubs also change from year to year. Like children they stretch out and mark their own place with larger shadows.

Without question, the best part of Spring in every passing  is the birdsong of morning. My head  rarely lingers upon the pillow beyond dawn, so addicted am I to the sound of it. It is a long-lived tether; a link from early childhood when I woke in my grandparent's farmhouse to birds that seemed to be singing through megaphones. The joy returns as clear reflections of those long ago mornings wash over me with each new morn sixty years hence. God is good.

Back to the photo journal...all at once the camera lens caught more shades of summer than spring. Everything was summer green with only faint illusion to the tender tones of April. May slips away quite quickly when temperatures soar and humidity hangs over the meadow. I sigh and say goodbye to another budding season. 

It is NOT imagination that marks the flying calendar gathering speed with age. It's happening. I've noted as well that the green, green hills of summer are observed with more acute awareness, distinct definition. Awareness is a blessing - God is good.

Visiting time after yesterday's church services took us to shut-ins - a gentleman suffering at home with advanced cancer, a sweet little bird of a lady 'trapped' in a rehab center with a broken hip. These dear folks are by circumstance deprived of birdsong, sunlight and blossoms beckoning in gentle breezes. Perhaps their hearts store pictures of like beauty and they are comforted by their remembrance even among the vicissitudes of life. I do hope so. Along with that, may our brief presence reflect a refreshing breath of loving Son-light for their keeping.

A NEAR-PERFECT DAY

THE NEAR-PERFECT DAY

A nearly perfect day in May--

A canopy of powder blue,

Fresh-grown greens of every hue,

Fragrant blossoms by the way,

Warbling birds on fence and trees,

And rippling streams heard o'er the lea

Hold happy hands and whisper "stay."

"Remain here with us, let the sun

Contentment, joy and peace begin."

They seek us out; they draw us in.

The circling arc of work begun

With April buds and gentle rain,

Brings hope for Life - refreshed again 

In kinship with the Risen Son

Immersed in beauty so serene;

Touched by the grace of Holy Hands,

A soul will soar to distant lands;

A glimpse of Heaven may be seen;

A heart will find its way and throng

With saints before the Son-lit throne,

To sing His praise with the redeemed.

No perfect day will mortals gain

E'en in the beauty that surrounds

These seamless times of wonder found

When seasons change. Yet there remains

God's perfect day, perfect design

When joy eternal will ascend

In perfect life that never ends.

5/20/12

ONLY ISOBEL

Sometime back I thought I might put all of Isobel's gifts on the table, take a picture, and write about how caring and generous she is. Ran into a real dilemma. The more I gathered, the more I found that belonged to that category. And even that sturdy oak table Daddy made wouldn't hold them all.

This, of course, does not mean I've stopped thinking about Isobel's gifts (too many reminders around for that). But inventory is impossible. It's like trying to list friends and knowing you'll leave some out no matter how diligent you are. I'm left with scratching the surface. So be it.

For this purpose, suppose I should stick to functional items (but it would be remiss of me not to mention the boxes of lemon pie mix that are often tucked into the parcels for Wayne).  Many of Isobel's presents are sewing tools. I suspect that when she finds a new gadget - and Isobel does like gadgets - she buys in triplicate: one for herself and one each for the twins. She has added sundry rulers and rotary cutters, quilt calculators and color wheels, frequent packs of fabric, and a nice pair of Gingher appliqué scissors to my little sewing corner - just to name a few.  

The granddaddy of all sewing tools is a Bernina Serger she brought my way when she found a newer model for herself.  That machine (besides driving me bonkers sometimes when it needs re-threading) has been such a boon and blessing. It has made pjs , nightgowns, aprons, jumpers and skirts galore - mostly for grandchildren who are beyond grateful. I hope she knows she has facilitated my happiness in the making as well as theirs.

Since I have dubbed my sewing machine and computer MAGGIE and MOLLY, it occurs to me that the serger needs a name, too. Think I'll call her ISIE (Isobel's childhood nickname). Guess that also means ISIE becomes the grandmommy of all sewing tools.

And now this...can you figure it out? The pin cushion is obvious. And it obviously belongs beside a sewing machine. What is less evident in the photo are especially convenient features. The pin cushion is weighted with some kind of heavy base so that it will not fall off the table or go creeping away from you when you try to poke it with a pin. The bag that hangs over the edge is held open with a stout metal ring sewn in the top; and it is lined with satin so that threads and scraps that are handily dropped in slide out easily when it needs emptying. Isobel doesn't do ugly so the colors and embroidered design on the front are very nice, too.

Now isn't my generous, thoughtful sister so very clever? I appreciate you Isobel, and love you so very dearly!

BUILDING BRICKS

Big celebrations in Temple Terrace last night. Two grandchildren (Luke and Sarah Jane - with baby Joshua tagging along 'baby bump' style) walked for Bachelor's degrees; another granddaughter (Hannah) walked for an Associate degree at the Florida College graduation ceremonies. I think it a very special thing for cousins to do together.

DS Doy marked the occasion by posting pictures of the 4-yr 'bricks' laid down as a record for his wife, son and son's wife. I don't know the story of the commemorative bricks, but imagine them to be laid down somewhere on the F.C. campus. Not knowing the details did not keep me from getting a big lump in my throat as I looked at (and lifted) the pictures from Doy's Facebook page.

Sarah Jane's comments on this occasion were: "Graduation! How bittersweet. I wouldn't trade these past four years for anything. The amount of growth and knowledge I have obtained is priceless. Thank you, F.C., for everything. Especially my husband :) I also believe I owe my firstborn to you ;)"

I'm guessing she's giving credit for her firstborn to Luke, not F.C., but you never know. (There is that running joke about kids going to F.C. to get a husband/wife...and it worked well for our girls Laurie/Nina.) Guess Sarah Jane could give F.C. the credit for meeting Luke. However it is sliced, baby Joshua will always tie into college memories.


As to Hannah's response to all the fuss, she wrote: "First year at F.C. is over and I got an itchy blue robe, an empty red case, and a "gold" cord to prove it. Happy Graduation everybody!"


Audrey was packing up the dorm room she and Hannah shared this year and wrote with a touch of wistfulness: "Just took all my happy mail off my walls. There was a lot. I am so blessed. :) As for goodbyes... not really my thing."


My own reaction brought to mind one of those David/Beccie stories stored in memory. When Jonathan and Hannah were baptized (on my birthday) several years back, Beccie asked David, "What did we ever do to deserve these children...?"   Such milestones are both awesome and humbling. And like Audrey, "I am so blessed."

MY REMEMBRANCE BOX

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

'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

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...

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

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

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?