A LITTLE TEXTURE IN MY LIFE

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?

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

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

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..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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....

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

HE DID IT!

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

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.