MIXED GREENS

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 ...

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

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?

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.

RAG BAG MANAGERIE

When Grandma Oe had a rag bag it contained just that – clothing worn to rags. The most threadbare parts became cleaning rags and the more serviceable parts were used for piecing quilts. By true rag bag standards, my most recent acquisition might be considered up-scale. It was given to me by DH’s Aunt and contained all unused pieces of fabric.

But some things can almost wear out with time, you know? I haven’t a notion how long these pieces were hoarded and I’m afraid to ask. What to do? Too old and sheer for piecing! I’m trying to be older and wiser – at least more discerning about the quality that goes into a quilt.

SO…APRONS! Half a dozen big and little.

Most of the pieces survived laundering, but still smell a tiny bit musty to me. More fabric softener next time. The plum is so sheer it may not wear ‘til the first batch of bread gets hot; I couldn’t resist putting heart-shaped pockets on the valentine print; and at least the 30’s quilt-plate print has a nice feel to it. As for the pink nightgowns, they are from my own left-over waffle knit. Their first line summer dresses are cut out ready to sew/serge up next week. (So Nines’ girls can wear pink night and day!:) That serger surely makes quick work of things.

The shiny 70's double-knit from Aunt M's bag are cut for play pants. Seems slick knit is back in style. Or maybe the swings will close their eyes. More importantly, it will do Aunt M's heart more good than I can imagine to know her rag bag didn't go straight to the garbage bag.

And yes, like Grandma Oe, rag bag quilts are still my favorite…must be those utilitarian Brady/Miller/Minney genes.

NO HANGOVERS

My last few weeks have been spent in the throws of a little computer job – revising nutrition charts for a former WVDE boss. There were some 160 documents – a few with only one page, a few with 10-15 pages, but most between 3-5 pages that needed format revisions. You do the math. I logged in 58 hours before the job was done; but that just means I’m old and rusty – not that the job was difficult enough to hang over my head. I rather enjoyed it for the most part. Now it’s saved off my computer for later delivery and I can move along to other things.

This morning it was rather exciting to drag out my sewing machine for a change. I sewed the binding (first round) on a quilt. Nines did a super job quilting it and the way she trims the edges when she is through makes binding a breeze. The hand work can wait for break times.

Other lovely things that are waiting in the wings, but not hanging over my head came from Nines as a mother’s day remembrance. Every day is mother’s day for me! Gotta love her boxes, though! I should have included the journal that came in her last box, but forgot. Anyway, aren’t those flannels just luscious? And I love the circle quilt pieces. I’ve been fascinated with that concept for a while, but afraid to try it. The kit titled "Wheel of Mystery Quilt" should keep it from being a permanent mystery. (And that bamboo stiletto came just in time, Isobel :) The candle smells like a high Arizona meadow – clean juniper spice…mmmmmm!

The white toweling is remnants of Nines’ turbie towel making. Guess she made 8, for there are 8 each dish cloths and towels for serging - all nicely squared. When I was a girl we called dish cloths “dish rags” and tea towels “dish cloths” – we were perhaps too hillbilly or not southern enough for dish cloths and tea towels. These may return to IN when edged.

Pinto beans are soaking – to go with cornbread and green onions from the garden. Nothin’ wrong with hillbilly roots, you know. The lettuce will be ready to thin out and use this week, too. That means wilted lettuce! We’ve been eating fresh asparagus about every other day, too. Before we know it will be goods things from the garden of the jolly green gardener; no meat required.

Since the machine is up, I can finish off a postcard or two. Or maybe I’ll get out the serger and edge those rags.

PORCHSIDE

[About the snapshot: Taken in the early 50's, that's DS Karen in front of Grandpa Miller's front porch. Part of me waits at the top of the stairs.]

Distant visions of front porches are among my fondest childhood memories. Remember those swings? I talked an arm and a leg off Cousin Vance and Uncle Gale while enjoying their swings. Both men were pleasant company and if you timed it just right you could even grab a juicy grape from the vines at the back of Uncle Gale’s swing..

Grandpa Grover’s front porch was symbolic of everything I loved about Shock, WV. My eyes still see it. Just down the road is the church building and I watch as Grandma and Grandpa walk down the dirt road on their way to meeting. On around that bend is Uncle Ben’s. Sweeping back there’s the little house where two Aunt Bonnie's and Aunt Carrie live (in turn), the Uncle Sam mailbox, a perennial mud puddle somewhere by the road, the Puddle Jumper parked by the woodshop and then around the next bend on to Aunt Ruth’s and Uncle Gale’s, the store, the Tanner schoolhouse and Aunt Meda’s. This porch is my hub of all grandchild memory.

A place of rest, relaxation and congeniality - what’s not to like about a front porch? Grandpa Grover’s front porch may have had a swing at some time, but not that I can recall. I see rocking chairs and benches on either side of the door – all built by Grandpa Grover (or his sons?). I see Uncle Corley walking up the path to the porch for a weekend afternoon visit with his folks. I hear Grandpa singing hymns with sons and grandsons. Was that not where Gene taught us “How Great Thou Art”? I see and hear Grandpa lifting his hand with a hearty “Har-ree!” for everyone who traveled by. (“Har-ree”…is that a contraction for ‘how are ye’? Always wondered about that phrase and never heard it anywhere but Shock.) I see Grandma Oe rocking, apron still pinned on; and hear her laughter.

Times can be hard but that front porch was a special place in time. A place where there was always time enough for smiles and hugs, songs and laughter, dear family and neighbors.

And is that wisteria growing up the post and over the roof? Perhaps we all could use a little more front porch time and philosophy in our lives.

TWO STEPS FORWARD...ONE STEP BACK

Spring keeps springing backwards. Couldn't resist lifting this photo from DB's email note of yesterday. Up state NY hasn't seen much spring yet! DSis noted similarities between this and my own backyard. When I visited there last fall, I was impressed with DB's back woods - so like his native WV hills. The front yard view was far more open and expansive however.

We've been on the road. Caught a little snow and cool air in NC, but had a nice week with DH's brothers. I pretty much had a week of doodling. Puzzles (now hooked on Kakuro, sigh) and reading and being almost unbearingly lazy. Really like those western NC mountains, too - looking out over those porches is like being on a mountain retreat.

Good news from the cardiologist when we returned! DH's heart function has increased 15-20% since installing those five stents. We'll take that and Praise God for it! DH says he can feel those little buggers in his chest, but that should subside in another month or so.

The creeks around here usually flood once or twice in the spring. Sunday was our day for that after a full night of rain. No harm done, not even the usual debris, as it came up rather slowly, but we were hemmed in for a few hours. Couldn't get out to 'meeting' (as Grandma Oe called church services) - that left the whole Son-day off balance. So I just loafed. Yesterday was 'shut-in' day; the laundry's caught up and with a few housekeeping chores done today, I'll call it settled back in. I learned long ago CAUGHT UP is a fantasy.

SPRING'S FANCY

Seems that everyone, everything
Is leaning into the rush of Spring…

A series of thunderstorms swept through Teelside last night. We watched the lightening display from the balcony until the rain drove us in. Water was still rushing down the creeks this morning, but the banks held in the one and one-half inches of rainfall, perhaps because it came in waves.

The rainbow preceded the storms not long before dark. I get as excited about a seeing rainbow as hearing a whip-poor-will call. Nor can I turn away from the wonder until the last glimmer of color melts into the clouds.

I was thinking yesterday about a less colorful, but sure sign of spring. Have you noticed the birch trees among the bare winter trunks along wooded highways? By this time of year their leaves are papery wisps in the wind – forerunners of the dogwood that will soon hang suspended in the breeze. The birch leaves are a nearly colorless beige but beautifully fragile parchment - just rustling in place, waiting for the new rush of Spring.

A LITTLE COLOR IN MY LIFE...

DH thought I needed some brighter shades for my postcard habit. Nines to the rescue with rainbow hues. (If you're peeking over my shoulder, DSIL, the top two (bottom photo) are slated for Angie's angels.)

It's that kind of day...warm like summer; a lazy Monday. Breakfast was cheerios, lunch was PBJ with a glass of milk. DH is off doing charity work. The windows and doors are wide open, the CD player played full blast (over the sewing machine) for a couple hours, but now I'm letting the windchimes and birds entertain me while playing with postcards. The birds sing louder after you've given them a dose of Sarah Brightman or Beethoven Sonatas. I'm sure of it!

A LITTLE SPRING DITTY

It’s beginning to look a lot like Spring Time
Everywhere you go
The bright yellow daffodils
Are dancing upon the hill
And Carolina wrens sing all aglow

It’s beginning to sound a lot like Spring Time
Winds are playing chimes
The willows are wriggling toes
The tulips poke out their nose
And roses stretch before their summer climb

We’re beginning to find the joy of Spring Time
Everywhere we look
The maples are sprouting red
The bunnies will soon be wed
And rippling waters sparkle down the brook

It’s beginning to look a lot like Spring Time
Let those showers pour
For the loveliest gems are found
In the treasures that abound
Near our own front door

[Writing a ditty is fairly simple when the melody/meter of a familiar tune gets stuck in your head:)]

THE NAME GAME

Names are interesting – we labor intensely to choose just the right one for our children, and sometimes wonder 'why didn't we choose?' when they're grown. Nines, for example should have been Nina Marie.

My FIL wanted to name DH "Claude Arthur" so his initials would be CAT. MIL didn't agree, and I'm glad. Wayne David is much better! Of course we did turn around and name our youngest Craig Alan, so it was CAT after all.

I should have been Penelope. I could have been Allison. I ended up Pamela Joan. It all started when mom and Dad decided to call the Brady Twins Penny and Patsy (after discounting Allison and Avanell). Patricia Anne was fine for Patsy; Dad vetoed Penelope. So Pamela it was. Lots of folks don’t know that’s my “real” name; and many who do ask, “Where did Penny come from?” It’s this long story.

So my nickname doesn’t match my real name and most likely leads to an even larger array of nicknames. And I didn’t help matters any when, at about age 13 while confined to bed and looking for new entertainment, I decided [in typical 13-year-old fashion] to change the way I spelled Penny – after all it was a nickname, so what would it matter, right? Peni. It looked so cute when I was 13.

A rose by any other name ... after that this name thing was a widely rambling rose – Pamela on documents, Penny for immediate family, Pam at school, Pammy at piano lessons, Peni among teen-age friends. Add to that P.J. (by preacher P. J. C. for obvious reasons) and Momaly, Mom, Mama and Momma (the kids each have their own name for me, it seems.) One of my bosses solved her dilemma by calling me Peni-Pam. Is this not broad grounds for a first class identity crisis – or even multiple personalities?

Life gets complicated and names are confusing, but you can’t go back to simplify it when you have two precious namesakes - Penijean and Pamela (Pami) - either. Guess I’ll just keep answering to about anything. So call me Peni, call me Pam; spell it anyway you can…Just let me keep clinging to the Brady and Miller family trees.

Thank You, LORD

Just a short note for now about DH's big day in the cath lab.

It was a long procedure, but all went well. One of the new grafts was 99% blocked; and another crucial area was 87% blocked (in several directrions). The first was pretty straightforward, the latter more risky than usual; but Dr. S felt more by-pass urgery was not an option and medicinal therapy would be of little help. So, DH agreed to trying the stents.

DH and Dr. S and THE LORD did quite well. DH's heart now sports five new drug-coated stents and the good doctor predicts he will feel a "considerable difference." And DH may be discharged late today...or tomorrow.

To God be the glory!

IT FLOATS

Some of us remember the time when that was a prized slogan for Ivory soap. DH remembers from his boyhood that the coal miners in his community always took a bar of Ivory soap to the river – it wouldn’t sink to the bottom as they cleaned off their coal masks and gloves before going home after work. I recall Ivory from my childhood too and have to buy a bar just every so often for the comforting scent of it. (It also works well for cleaning out acrylic paint brushes as DS Isobel taught me.)

A couple of weeks ago we had overnight rain that brought the creeks over their banks. When we awoke the next morning, the ice on the creek had shifted. So, it floats. Ice, that is. Some of these slabs were 8-10 inches thick, which made DH feel not quite so reckless about walking across the creek when it was frozen. Dealing with the flotsam was no problem. It took way over a week, but once a warm day or two marched by, it melted.

My February sewing kinda waned (read Wayned) to the extent of a few postcards and one quilt top. The blocks are all together and the borders are cut for the quilt, so that’s a one-day finishing project. Having restocked a few postcard supplies, I managed to finish the stitching on a dozen yesterday…something of a record, as five a day was my max before. I’m still not totally satisfied with the quality of my postcards, but most are nice enough to mail and the more I mail, the more practice I get.

The heart patient is out with his chain saw. He’s scheduled for another heart cath next week, and this time the doctor did not include the instruction, “Take it easy until we get this done.” That instruction has always been part and parcel of pre-cath agenda, so I’m thinking it was an oversight. DH won’t buy that! Actually DH says running the chain saw isn’t all that strenuous…I’m thinking it’s denial or his way of working off anxiety. Maybe both. At least this week it has been the small chainsaw on nuisance saplings and such – much smaller than the 100+-year old white oak. I helped him a little yesterday afternoon and I’m buying “not strenuous” for about the same price he’s buying “take it easy.”

DRAW FROM THE SPRINGS...

...of salvation, give thanks to His high and holy Name...

Sometimes I think it is the simple things of earth that best remind us of heavenly majesty. The sound of rippling water, wind in the trees and bird songs; the spicy smell of moss on the rocks and the fresh scent of the woods after rain; watching the sun and moon rise and set.

Perhaps these are the pleasures I knew first, here in the WV hills. They are certainly among my dearest treasures in life as I know it at Teelside.

Look for the Lord...He is where you are today.

A LITTLE BIRDIE TOLD ME....

...my big sis loves me A LOT.

This cheery little chickadee came in my Christmas box. Can you imagine turning a piece of wood into this? Wow! DS Isobel has a way with wood and paintbrushes, does she not? And she is unfailingly generous, bless her.

There lives in her studio a fellow chickadee with pink blossoms which I understood was slated to live with me…I may plea for a trade when that one is complete. Not that I am unhappy with this little darling, not at all!!! But the sentimental side of me (about 98% at last accounting) likes the idea of DS thinking of me as she carved it. Of course, there’s always the possibility that other little chickadee has flown elsewhere with good reason and if so, my sentiment blushingly acquiesces.

We’re still cold in WV. Not inside – the oak burns nicely, almost too warmly for aerobics, but the extra “glow” is healthy. Outdoor snow is not deep, but with single digits, it will disappear only by evaporation.

It’s about time for me to start some bread and then try to evaporate an ounce or so of weight with some video exercise.

IN THE GAME...

As game players go, I usual lag behind the whole line. But I can still jump in with both feet. This is my “patchwork” series of postcards. Not as creative as others I’ve seen around here, but kinda homey in a way, don’t you think? I'm still honing my techniques, but there's a glimmer of hope now.

I’d been having a lot of trouble with my sewing machine. Enter MY HERO, dh. He worked on it a couple of hours and now it sews like a top. This morning he even adjusted the bobbin winder so that it will wind a full bobbin, not a 2/3 full one. You can imagine what a time and aggravation savings that will be! Bless him. [The single is dh's pick of my litter; he was quite taken with the vivid fabric :)]

So, now I’m on a roll. You know you’re addicted when you cast covetous eyes toward the ‘egg money’ fabric box (Nine's special vintage reproductions gift)…but so far I have only snitched a bit of the muslin. So far, so good…

NOSTALGIA

I cannot decide if NOSTALGIA is a blessing or bane of age. Most likely, it is a blessing for those of us who revel in it and a bane to those of you who have to listen to it…over and over again.

Monday, February 5, was my father’s birthday. Neither of my parents saw “old age” – Daddy died at age 57, Mom at age 61. They’ve been gone over 30 years, but I’m still very much attached to their birthdays. Nostalgic memories must needs have links, I am sure.

One of my favorite links is this old photo. No doubt it is favored because I am smiling in my Daddy’s arms! We were visiting up Tanner Creek, in Shock, West Virginia. I can’t guess the year – circa 1950, maybe? - it's almost as far back as my memory will take me. (The photo was taken in Grandpa Grover and Grandma Oe’s front yard; two siblings are missing, possibly off to Uncle Gale’s.)

I always think of dad as the quintessential West Virginia man of his era. He had an eighth grade education, was friendly, generous, very hard working and had a ready humor. Though not given to many words, there was a lot going on in his head! He worked as a welder. One of my childhood joys was watching him ply his trade off-hours in our driveway. I’d sit on the concrete steps and watch the sparks fly – to a kid it was fireworks. Though cautioned not to watch the flame, my eyes were ever drawn to the surface of his work, where Daddy made perfect concentric circles with the rod that melted into a smoothly flowing metal bond. He was an artist! Nor did he ever lack for artistic supplies, because he could never pass up salvaged metal from the plant.

Once in my life, I remember my father spanking me – I was playing on the outside steps and fell in to dirt – after I was dressed for Sunday meeting and clearly told to stay on the porch. Once in my life, I remember hearing him say, “I love you, too.” I treasure both memories.

And Melville Brooks Brady was also a quintessential proud grandpa. He once told his sister, “Peni wouldn’t care if the world turned upside-down as long as she and her kids landed on top.” In another instance, he took those kids’ photos from his billfold, spread them out on the coffee table and announced to company, “This is part of what I’ve accomplished.” I wish DS Craig could remember how much fun Grandpa Brady had with him. Craig was just a baby and would mimic every expression and sound his grandpa made. Dad laughed and laughed at their "monkey shines.”

And nostalgia almost always winds around to one of the sweetest glimpses of my folks together which came in later years. They were seated on the worn couch, holding hands, watching television – Tennessee Ernie Ford, singing, “How Great Thou Art.”

My mother’s birthday was February 18 – so I get a double blessing of nostalgic reminiscence this month.

BONNIE’S STRIP TWIST

Finished up this double quilt top this morning - I’m not certain about the black borders, but am thinking they’ll grow on me. It’s not gorgeous, but it is presentable for a scrap quilt and may someday keep someone’s toes warmer. I do like the games the contrasting colors play on diagonal lines. (I can resist anything but diagonal patterns...) Besides that, now that it’s done, I’m thinking this winter may not be a total waste after all.

Back to the "woods," just have to share with you a note from my Aunt Luanne. She wrote this in response to all the logging and firewood stories of recent weeks.

I can remember when a wood fire in the fireplace was our only heat and it kept the brothers busy almost full time keeping enough wood. We burned a lot in the cook stove, also. Sometimes when the wood box for the stove would be empty, your Grandma Oe would go out and split some wood and carry it in. But not when your Grandpa Grover was around! He thought she ought to teach the sons that if there was no wood in the box there would be no supper.

I can almost smell the wood from your oak tree.

Love, Aunt Luanne

See what I mean? Aunt Luanne's excells at love of family and story telling. I'm thinking no one can tell a tale as clearly and concisely as a first grade teacher...even in retirement. Every note from her is worth sharing/saving. Thank you, Aunt Luanne

Seems to me there are quite a few good story tellers in this family!

KICKIN' UP DUST

...SAWDUST, that is.

DH had the chainsaw going about all afternoon. About 4 p.m. I saw him bending over with hands on knees (the usual angina recovery position), so I popped my head out the back door and asked, "Are you O.K.?"

DH: *turning with big smile* "I'm fine."

P:*with skeptical brows, "I think you've done enough..."

DH: "...but I'm not done yet."

P: "Look at all that sawdust; you've done enough for one day."

DH: *continues on, tossing firewood over stream out of the way for another hour or so; but does not restart the chainsaw.*

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It occurs to me there's an epidemic of denial within the Teel clan these days.
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DH says just now: *moaning as he gets out of the recliner* "I overdid it."

Shh-h-h-h-...he thinks I wasn't listening. :)

PERSPECTIVE

Just could not resist this shot as I was recording the felling of the mighty oak.

That oak stood a lot of years. GF has often asked, "What has that oak seen pass beneath it?" We imagined Indian spirits remaining beneath it's outstretched arms from former seasons. Surely more than one farmer used it for a fence post - GF's metal detector rang barbed wire up to four feet. I'm thinking all 17 of our grand-angels used the swing that hung from its lowest branch. Dear friend Casey provided the cedar swing seat and built the bridge coined 'the bridge to the oak.' Over a hundred generations of birds and squirrels found shelter there in summer; while deer chomped on acorn mast in autumn.

It was a thing of beauty and we'll miss its mighty presence. Still it may lend warmth through many coming winters. For this winter it has warmed a relationship between GF and GS, while warming their muscles and tools.

Perspective - it's all in how you look at it. In God's eye that 100+ years is but a blink. I won't see 100+ years, but I'd do well to remember He yet controls the centuries, the world ... His arms outstretched in mercy (for even me).

Nor does the gift of a tree compare to the gift of the child (and his counterparts) who seems dwarfed in the photo. What potential for good rests in the hands that held that maul and split that wood. God bless him!

MOVIN' RIGHT ALONG

Grandfather's Guardian "Angel"

...with this 'new leash on life' - 2007.

DS & DDIL do not have dial up, so I'm getting new lessons in computer addiction. It's so much fun to browse around with instant response. I've even been looking at many-photo blog sites I click past at home because of the time it takes to pull them up. And I confess that sometimes keeps me from writing here. It takes 10-20 minutes to configure and add images, and bald stories just aren't as interesting.

I have nothing on my mind today. We've been floating day to day and I'm concerned the week will pass with little in the way of lasting remembrance. Typically the kinds of things I do when I visit are not long term. I choose the easy chores - dishes, sweeping, laundry. And the older I get the lighter those chores become. Yet no small contribution goes without thanks. That's nice if the job doesn't last.

DS has a freezer door full of Gevalia coffees. This morning I tried the European blend. Yummy. Yesterday's Costa Rica, a nice mild blend, was so smooth it hardly registered on the tongue as coffee. I do feel a bit guilty, though, because my coffee measures are double what his would be, so that black gold diminishes at an alarming rate...on his tab. Not that he'll notice or complain.

As for the photo and caption: GF always called his grandbabies angels. It gives them a lot to live up to, but I must say they are managing quite nicely.

A FEW DAYS AWAY

It is pretty hard for me to slip away from GF. I don't think it 'bothers' him as much as it bothers me; but we seem to be joined at the hip in our (dare I say it) decline. Decline is not such a bad word in light of 2 Cor.4:16-18. I'm presently in GA with DS David's, family. We're having a good time, of course.

It was easier to leave this time because I left GF in capable hands. DGS Jonathan is there to keep him out of overmuch mischief. GF cut down the giant oak by the Barn last Friday. He said it lived a long time to fall in 20 minutes after taking the chain saw to it. Jonathan helped him tie it off with a lumber chain (to a large tree up on the bank). GF cut the lowest heaviest limbs that were stretching toward the Barn, so that left the weight up hill. It fell nicely - opposite the Barn - [thank you, Lord!] It will take a full week of muscle to get that giant dissected and split into firewood. DGS was opining about needing to build his strength for a similar feat when he gets back home. He is a good hard worker, though, and he and GF will have a great week, I'm confident.

(The picture is DS on his own cut oak stump.)

There is some question about menu plans back at Teelside. Rumor has it that yesterday's lunch was Snoodles (ramen noodles) and Treet Meat sandwiches....we may be in trouble.

I BET SHE KNEW...

Some while back I offered to put the prairie points on DS Isobel's king-size quilt. As I recall she had cut a few and I whisked them up with the rest of the fabric and brought them home to await Nines' quilting completion. I don't remember when I got the quilt from Nines, but that's been a while, too.

Well, I was waiting for matching border fabric for binding, which DS sent in my christmas box, so no more excuses. I was procrastinating a little (procrastination is one of my flaws, sigh) - but with reason. Upon receipt of the binding fabric, I set out to press the cut squares. All this time, in the back of my mind I wondered..."how ever will I get these things attached evenly?" And then, "how ever will I manage this monster on the floor as I pin them unevenly." Mind you, I wasn't sorry I offered, but you know how it is. Sometimes those sincere offers turn into bigger jobs than you first visualize.

Can you tell? ...like Nines I'm in the throws of holiday denial. Surely I have time to finish off this quilt before I start baking.

All that worry for nothing. Those little points went down in perfect precision first time!! I BET SHE KNEW. Isobel probably figured out the dimensions and knew it would take 4-inch squares before she finished the top. Not only that, the king-size quilt spread quite nicely on my queen-size bed with the 'quilt vault' footer. THANK YOU DB-ANDY! When I got to the third side, I even figured out I could sit in Grandpa Millers oak chair and pin away without as much as the tiniest bend in my spine. (I must have gotten the slow genes in this mix.)

The moral of the story is, "Don't put it off...it might be a whole lot easier than you think [especially with the help of clever siblings]." Now go try and tell that to a dyed in the wool procrastinator!

NOTE: The picture won't tell, but the quilt piecing and applique on the apples is admirable. Nines quilted inside each apple with a different pattern. My favorite is the corner one, swirled with the worm poking out its little nose. How clever!

FOLLOW THE LEADER

It’s one of those little jobs that talks to you in your sleep. You can’t put it down. A low black ink cartridge keeps me from printing out DDIL’s wedding pictures, so I started at the other end of wedding memories. A full tray of photos are waiting...to follow the leader(s).

DD-Laurie was the first to wed in May 1986. Always a ‘do it myself’ kid, she ran the full gamut for her wedding. Designed and made her gown, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the flower girl’s dress and even the ring bearer’s suit. She also designed, baked and decorated her wedding cake. She did let me do the flowers (though I’m sure she’d have done as well or better). A bit Victorian; all white - everything. It was a very crisp, fresh wedding.

The local paper ran a piece on Laurie’s gown. I started my scrapbooking from that photo shoot. And there are loads and loads of pictures taken at the wedding to choose from when I move on to color – another day, depending on how my dreams progress. Right now I’m looking at family and friends in those pictures and remembering that first of wedding days was on a Sunday afternoon - Mother’s Day. Whew, were we tired!

And of course, I simply had to include photos of the flower girl (then and now), because she was married just last month and DD Laurie designed and made her (another) white wedding dress for the occasion. As Nines would say, “How cool is that!”

TIMELESS TREASURES

My project for this month is to get a few wedding pictures out of old cling-style albums into safer storage. The plan is to make scrapbook pages for each of our children from a few of the best wedding shots, and catalog the rest. Since I had no pictures of youngest DS Craig's wedding, request was made and quickly filled by DDIL Lisa.

This picture came by e-mail today. Looking at it fills my heart with wonder. The toddlers in this shot are now 19 and soon 18; and the rest of us have a lot more white hair, too. [And, in case you're wondering, Nines looks a bit peaked, because she's in premature labor...poor baby.] Oh, but I think we're ALL beautiful!

What a sweet host of memories a single photo can evoke. And aren't all pictures like that? I sometimes wonder if I would have any memory at all were it not for snapshots to prompt it. And pictures definitely fill out stored memories. I know there are photos that bring back my own childhood in ways long since lost otherwise.

So I guess I'll hang onto these timeless treasures. You know what they say, "In case of fire, grab the picture albums!" And thank you, Lisa ...you're a treasure!

For Nines - DS's back yard / herb garden ... NOT related to post :)

REVOLVING DOORS IN THE LAND OF BARBARIANS

A friend of ours coined the phrase ‘medical revolving doors,’ noting that once primary doctor’s care considered a condition, it’s doors revolved – between all known cohorts – until everyone got a stab at you. The friend called it sharing the bounty … tongue in cheek, maybe sharing more fee than wisdom.

I have my toe in that revolving door again. Yesterday, my D-twin-S wrote about my visit to the hospital for tests, “Sorry you had to be in the land of barbarians.” DS is an RN (the best I’ve ever seen) and knows whereof she humorously speaks truth. This time the doors revolved in a comedy of confusion, too.

The doctor, who was seeing drop-ins in family physician’s stead, told me I could just ‘drop in’ the imaging center anytime for kidney/bladder x-rays. When I called to be sure (Rule # 1: Never trust a doctor under 30, no matter how pleasant) I was told in answer to my questions about the procedure that (1) the dye is the same as is used in cardiac cath’s; (2) test must be pre-scheduled; (3) patient’s with dye allergy must have the procedure done at a hospital instead of imaging center; and (4) there is a 24-hour prep for the test. I was given the phone number for scheduling at the hospital and that call led to further discoveries: the ordering Dr. would have to supply Rx for pre-dosage steroids, a 24-hour (colonoscopy type – ugh) prep-kit as well as an order for bloodwork 48+hrs post test. More phone calls and another trip to pharmacy so that I myself could do the prep, take the pills (prednisone and benedryl), stop the pills (diabetes drugs) and have the bloodwork a few days after the test to see if my kidneys can tolerate resuming the diabetes meds. And of course pay the bills. . . which always goes unmentioned.

As sometimes happens, the prep was worse than the test. Sorry guys, but colon cleansing is barbaric! The steroids make me wired - I slept maybe 2 hours before night between that and tummy rumbles. But, the Benedryl helped me rest some during the test - which ran a 2-hour course, trying to lie still on a cold steel table. I noted that the equipment might have been around when DS David had his first kidney x-rays in 1969. On the bright side, the dye-needle went in with one poke instead of the usual 3-4 and only a moderate amount of subsurface probing; and that probing nurse brought blankets – heated ones!.

A few hours after returning home from my exciting adventure, my flesh started crawling. Yep, a look in the mirror found swollen eyes, red neck and drew the obvious conclusion that the pre-dose steroid needed a boost. More phone calls and another trip to pharmacy took another five hours. Let's just call this little dance the Barbarian Shuffle. By this time I’m saying, BEAM ME UP SCOTTY, I want Bones’ hand held scanner and 30-second diagnosis!!!

Lame humor aside, the results were good…no major problems, just a few more revolving doors.

Further, for those of you who are/know good health care providers, I truly do appreciate modern medical science and am grateful to have had first hand experience with life-saving intervention. I thank God for those who with insight, dedication and compassion serve needing patients…for such care makes the rest of the land of barbarians bearable.

Luxury's Lap

Does this not look like resort living?

We traveled to Florida for Thanksgiving holidays, spending a few days on either coast. First, DH's family (except DBIL Paul) met in Ormond Beach Sunday-Thursday. This included the typical rounds of easy company, shopping at St. Augustine outlet mall, dinners together at DSIL Eva's and a holiday feast at DSIL June/Bob, for which DD Laurie/family joined us. The weather was at first quite cool - we left fruit and excess food on the screened porch 'refrigerator' - but warmed as the week went on. All of our family gatherings seem to gather around food, and T-day just magnifies the proportion. What would T-Day be without dressing, smoked turkey, ham, onion pie, Laurie's fresh cranberry salad and desserts [many of which have evolved into low-fat/sugar versions]. I still vote with the kid who said she liked the bread the turkey ate best, though.

We hitched a ride back over to the gulf coast for a few days with DD Laurie where we were put up in luxurious style. The pic is a corner scene from the guest bedroom...no, make that suite. We rattled around in that suite in total privacy - an area about the size of our living quarters here at Teelside. There's a big ole recliner beside the brass bed and GF took up station there. We hitched a cold/respiratory virus on the east coast; my round was quite mild; his was anything but mild. For the duration of our stay the poor baby reclined with remote in hand. Fox News with a little CSI/Law and Order kept him reasonably distracted from misery. The programs were reruns, but since we've lived sans TV since 1999, that was not an issue.

Beside sneaking in LOTS of extra affection between kids/grandkids, I had the first-in-a-lifetime joy of attending a namesake's wedding. How sweet! Penijean and Brian were married on the Gulf beach - a warm and casually beautiful affair. The weather was perfect and in my sentimental state I could but believe that heaven was smiling on this precious pair.

Such lovely experiences lead me to wish I could be everywhere at once. We have such a wonderful circle in which to bounce around!!! But it's good to be home, too. 

THANKS GIVEN

It has been a week for reflection. This time last year Wayne was entrenched in CICU, facing a second open heart surgery in less than eight hours. The cardiologist’s nurse assistant was standing in a far dim corner with tears streaming down her face – trying to be unseen. The cardiologist was agitated, the surgeon sober … there wasn’t a lot of hope floating around.

Still there was love enough and faith enough to fill that space and stretch across the miles into eternity. God answered prayers – ours and yours. So here we are a year later, especially given to thanksgiving for time and memories that might not have been.

None among my friends and family would think of giving thanks but once a year, I’m sure. Still, it seems to me that along side our prayer list, we should keep a thank You list – lest we become presumptuous, ungrateful children. Our blessings are indeed countless.

Oh, give thanks to the Lord!
Call upon His name;
Make known His deeds among the peoples!
Sing to Him, sing psalms to Him;
Talk of all His wondrous works!
Glory in His holy name;
Let the hearts of those rejoice who seek the Lord!
Seek the Lord and His strength;
Seek His face evermore!
Remember His marvelous works which He has done,
His wonders, and the judgments of His mouth…

PSALM 105:1-5

SKINNY CATS

Yesterday was (late) (o.k., very late) fall cleaning day. I had been pondering since October’s knee surgery how to begin that little task. Our household has been running pretty much on a lick and a promise for several months now. You know - a lick at the dishes and a promise to mop after I sweep sometime soon. Even I can tolerate only so much dust and clutter, so the time was at hand.

But where to start? A list of course. And then I took the arbitrary notion to start out with a pain pill instead of waiting for a miserable end. My daddy always said there was more than one way to skin a cat. (Wherever did that expression come from?) To my way of thinking, my day needed a little help and it turned out not to be overindulgent, after all. The list had very few check-offs at my giving out point; but clean windows, curtain and rug washing along with regular tasks was a real good start. Today, cleaning the tea shelves, bathroom and computer corner seemed a breeze – without medical assistance. Still have to sweep/mop the floors tomorrow – the paper trail to/from the computer took too long to rid/file today – but that looks quite doable from here. So my skinny cat took three days and a lortab boost, but she’s sleek and trim and ready to relax, snuggle up in. A little cleaning can surely lift a spirit.

For a sit down job after cleaning the computer space I ripped some CD’s onto my hard drive. Now I won’t have to shuffle between Brightman, Beatles and Beethoven CD’s on the single player – just think of all the time I’ll save for leisurely pursuits. And this blogging spot is much more inviting.

There’s more than one way to keep a ripening apple on a skinny tree limb, too, as the photo will attest. GF engineered 5-gallon bucket supports which, like those resewn seams, “ain’t pretty, but it’ll hold.”

 

WHISKED AWAY

I've had a couple of little fun projects under foot the last while. First I serged together several utility aprons in adult and children sizes. Then a host of tea napkins. Imagine a white-headed granny with sprouting French twist huddled over the serger...rzzzz-click -click, rzzzz-click -click, rzzzz-click -click, rzzz-rzzz-z-z-z-z-snip...four sides, pausing to turn each corner then cutting the thread at the end. Fourteen sets of napkins (only four per set, plus 15-16 scrappy extras) - that's way over 50 knots to tie as GF sat getting his nightly Western novel fix. At least I was a bit better at turning those corners when I finished than when I began. Some of the napkins got a little lace trim and some didn't need it.

In each instance, I piled aprons/napkins into an envelope and whisked them off to never never land about as quickly as they were done. I didn't even press the napkins - for shame! No pictures for show and tell, either. Maybe the Indiana organizer will think to share a snapshot or two. . . while she's sitting around eating sugar-free bon bons and drinking de-caf tea. *Snicker.*

We had a fun weekend with DGS- Josiah. He called to ask his GF if he could "sleep over today." GF answered, "We don't sleep during the day." We drug him to Pomeroy OH for visitation with friends, evening church services and then back for a late bedtime - for which we were all ready. We did sleep over until after 8 o-clock this morning too. Josiah was quite impressed with GF's smoked venison roast and Bambi jerky. And GF about talked his leg off as they made outdoor rounds today...which, if you know Josiah, you know is something of a role reversal.

About now I just hope the hurried trip to the post office sent today's parcel through the gate to Indiana and not one akin to the pictured Teelside "gate to nowhere."

FLIP SIDE BARGAINS

The subtle rainbow of fabrics were quite a find. Together with the one sent off to Nines for her own use, I grabbed up backing for eight quilt tops in one fell swoop....for a bargain price of under $10 per quilt. Whoever heard of such a thing? I had one more quilt to match, but didn't find what I wanted so resisted. Ironically, the one I didn't match was the first one I pieced. All these pretty pieces, except the browns on the corner, will be stashed away for future delivery to In where their mates await completion. Their mates aren't anxious or lonely...I'm sure they're keeping each other happy company as they wait contendedly in that workshop of wonder.

But perhaps I should consider storing my future quilt tops here for a while, lest the added numbers get burdensome. I have my fun putting them together and fully trust the hands that store them for quilting whenever. I truly don't care if they don't get done in my lifetime...I know they won't end up in a yard sale or thrift shop. But one really shouldn't over tax a dear daughter, should one.

 

ABEL'S BIG FAT HEN

Nines was right - it took two pounds of rice to fill this big fat hen. But isn't she just so cute! She'll be laden down with pins in no time, so no, I do not think she is too big or too fat. Besides she has enough heft to hold down pattern pieces sans pins and GF's mail when the doors are left open.

You'll recognize the blocks from the gorgeous quilt Nines made for Abel. I loved the unusual colors in that quilt and the star in the corner, didn't you?

And as Abel lives in my heart, it's only fair and I'm very pleased to give him his own place at my (sewing) table.