Work in Progress, Apothecary Rose

 

I am currently working on a rug called, Apothecary Rose. It is by my favorite pattern designer, Karen Kahle. I love all of her whimsical patterns. I find that her designs suit my home's style, particularly in the sense they that I can use brighter colors and I do not need to stick to a primitive color palette. 

I bought this pattern a few years ago and it took me a while to approach it. I felt intimidated by it's complexity and I needed formulate a plan on how I would work out my vision of color. I was drawn to the soft colors that Karen used. I saw warm cream tones, splattered with pinks and bronze-greens and some surprises of blue. I enjoy dying wool so I dyed the background textures in a color called, Antique Paper. For the blossoms and buds, I used shades of a dye recipe called Apple Blossom Pinks. I bought a piece of wool from a designer/author/dyer named Katie Kriner. She calls the color of that wool, English Breakfast. I thought it was the perfect shade to use in the grid lines between the blossom squares. I like to hook from massive amounts of mixed wool strips rather than one, singular piece of wool. I keep them in bags and bins next to my frame and pull strips from there as I hook.

I keep my rug hooking frame next to a window so I have lots of light shining down on the rug. I also have a window directly across from my chair so I can look outside while I work. (This is how I happened to spot the bobcat that ran by the shed two years ago.) All in all, it's a pensive past time that suits me well. I listen to many audio books and podcasts and I think and pray. Keeping the hands busy in tasks that don't require much concentration, like hooking, stitching, weeding, and washing dishes allows the brain to flow into a thoughtful space.  For some reason I need to counterbalance busy days with lots of time like this. Hence, a lot of rugs are produced...or a lot of dishes get washed. 

Last fall and into the winter, I stitched a couple of things as well. I realized I was going with all the same choices of color scheme- pinks, creams and bronze greens with some blues. I guess those are my soothing colors for this season. : )

Changes

 

    Our view across the road has changed. When I lamented about the loss of our view, Steve said, "Well, we got to enjoy it for twenty years. Like all things, it comes to an end." I can't help but feel happy for the new family who will live out their vision of country life there. We were once in their place and I wouldn't begrudge it for anyone. But, that view was beautiful. 

     Change makes me uncomfortable. One of the quotes I placed in my banner when I designed this blog was, "What some people view as stagnation, I view as contentment." I am happy and content with familiarity. I do not rearrange our furniture. I do not replace things for the sake of updating. And I need to know exactly where to find the masking tape when I need it. Last month, in a fit of insanity, I decided to wear. bangs. As if that wasn't enough change, I also parted my hair on the opposite side. I have never felt so uncomfortable and awkward. I couldn't wait to get home and dunk my head under the faucet to wash all the changes away.

     If I could manipulate time and make all the sad and uncomfortable changes go away, I would.  Imagine that a stream represents the flow of time. I would place pretty rocks across the stream with a gentle net to catch all the good things that flow by. Time in that net would stand still and we would live with all the people and good things that gathered there. We would have our grandparents, parents, children, and all the things and people we love, all in the same place at the same time. Sigh. In writing this, I realize I may have described Heaven. 

     The photo in the previous post is of the view across the road as it was up until last fall. I know changes come and I must try to accept them. Some changes are mildly uncomfortable and some are incredibly painful. As the lyrics in the Fleetwood Mac song below say, "Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know." The best we can do is take it as it comes, with all the grace and love that God gives us.

But Mousie... A Repost From June 2018

But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

These are the last two stanzas of " To a Mouse" by Robert Burns. I quote the third line often. Here's the modern English version:

But Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blessed, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

     This week was to be my first week of vacation which would be free of commitments. I had a list in my mind of all the things I wanted to catch up on or enjoy. I had made my "best laid plans" and it was to be all about me. And then things began to "go often askew". Not one, not two, but all three of our cars had mechanical issues. On a Goldilocks scale of problems, one car's was minor, one was medium, and one was major. Behind that scene, some health issues were creeping up that could no longer be ignored. The final straw (and it only takes a tiny speck of straw to set one over one's limit) occurred when I had resigned myself to stay home because I had no car. I decided I might as well catch up on the ironing. I got everything all set up, ready to dig right into that mountain of ironing and... my iron conked out. As in permanently. A small thing indeed, but it did cause me to raise my face Heavenward and ask, "Really?"
     At this point I began to be just a little bit afraid to leave the house. We've been studying Job at church and images of Job's suffering were filling my mind. I knew my annoyances compared nothing to Job's suffering, but still, things were heaping up and "forward, though I cannot see. I guess and fear!".
     By Sunday morning I had reached a point of pure agitation. I was in constant pain from aforementioned health issue and I was angry at myself for feeling angry. At one point I firmly sat myself down on a chair and told Steve I was not going to church. Period. (I'm not actually eight years old but I'm good at acting that.) Of course we did go to church but I made up my mind I would not be fake smiling. As the singing began and as our guest speaker began to speak, I felt my heart slowly softening. By the end of church I was "real" smiling without being aware of it.. Our guest speakers that morning were the Bonilla family. Juan Carlos and his family are missionaries in Spain. I had spotted Juan Carlos at Fine Arts Camp the previous week. He was dancing and singing his way down the path between our buildings. His joy was so obvious. I thought a lot about that. We also had the wonderful privilege that Sunday morning of witnessing a family baptize their three children. Pastor Stephen lovingly held each child and reminded us all what it means to dedicate our lives to the Lord and to be called a child of God.
     Anyway, I knew my problems weren't about cars and health. They were all about attitude. I had been losing my focus. It was no longer on God, nor on what it is to walk this life with him. I was trying to handle all life's annoyances in my own strength and I was miserably failing. A friend took me kayaking on Monday and there were no calamitous accidents. I did end up tipped into the river and I did clunk my friend in the head with my kayak. But these were more hilarious than anything. The next evening, other friends invited us to swim in their pool and we had a great conversation about our faith and what it means to live with this faith in our world. And yesterday, I hooked, as I do every week, with my dear and wise friend of eighty-something years and again our conversation centered around our shared faith.  
     I am so glad God turned my face again toward him. I cannot be any kind of help to my family or others when I am consumed by my own problems. Evidently, my best laid schemes were not God's schemes for me this week and because of that, I have been blessed.

Summer Favorites

    

     I struggle with the joys and pitfalls of summer gardening. As the summer heat builds, the garden becomes less joy and more burden for me. But, it only takes the first tomato pie of the season to brighten my spirits and make that whole garden worth the trouble. A tomato pie may not be to everyone's taste. I think it's the best thing ever and it is, by far, my favorite summer dish. I feel a special bond with my friend, Eleanor, when we can gush about our love for tomato pie together. I also recall our daughter, Chelsea, making a delicious tomato pie for us when we were visiting her family in New Hampshire. Now that's spreading the love!

     Thin slices of tomatoes are layered with sauteed onions and fresh herbs on a pie crust. A mixture of cheeses and mayonnaise are dolloped on the top to melt and brown as the pie bakes. My favorite recipe for tomato pie is from Southern Living Magazine and can be found here: Old Fashioned Tomato Pie 

     Another summer favorite of mine is this Fresh Fruit Trifle.  It is super easy to make because it uses a Sara Lee frozen pound cake. It presents beautifully if you have a trifle bowl. I make this multiple times throughout the summer whenever we have guests and it's too hot to bake dessert. It's also wonderful as leftovers for breakfast. ; )

     Enjoy!!

     

Archeology of the Future

 

     The other day Daughter #3 asked me what I would do for a career if I could do anything in a do-over. My love for history and discovering things brought a romanticized image of an Archeologist to mind. I quickly dismissed this as impractical. Instead I answered, "I would be a professional metal detectorist." and we both laughed.

     Today, I was looking for a document that I buried on my computer years ago. I recalled having saved it and so began my deep dive into 'saved documents' on my laptop. It only took me one fat minute to get sidetracked. I began opening folders under all sorts of labels. Deeper and deeper I dove into photos from 2009, 2011, 2012. I clicked on old school reports the girls wrote, music saved on MP3's, photos of our good old dog, Gunner, photos of old boyfriends, click, close, click, close, on and on. I thought it was time to delete some this useless school stuff and other frivolous items. It crossed my mind to make a project of cleaning this all up, here and now. I could free up all kinds of space on my laptop if I deleted stuff. Suddenly I felt that I was in way over my head. This job was much bigger than the time I had available in this moment. I needed to focus and look for the document I originally came here for. I closed all the screens and scolded myself for being ridiculous. The document I wanted was nowhere to be found. I probably purged it during a previous spell similar to today's experience. 

     I sat for a moment and felt the weight and burden of all these saved tidbits of the past. I thought, "What will our children do with all this shit on my laptop after I am gone?" Then I realized, this is the buried archeological treasure of the future! Light years from now, archeologists will no longer sift through dirt and sand looking for bones and telltale signs of human culture. They will search and sift through laptop data, mapping the customs and lifestyles of humanity via our saved documents. The thought compels me to decide, should I save or delete? I have gotten myself into dangerous thought territory here and it's time to go back to freezing green beans. I will have to look somewhere other than my laptop for my freezing and canning information. I think I should just bury the whole laptop and let someone else deal with it a long time from now.

The Garden of Goals and Dreams

     I was feeling encouraged by the breezy, beautiful day and I was so happy to be feeling better that I thought it was time to get back out into the garden. We had five days of soaking rain last week. The sound of rain pattering on the windows was a soothing sound while I was sick but, I knew it also meant the weeds would be overgrown by the time it stopped. 

     We call this garden bed shown above, "The Step Bed" because it is thirteen steps made from landscape timbers and gravel that go up the little hill at the back of our house. Steve installed the steps years ago. I planted spreading greenery and creeping varieties of plants to fill in the beds on either side of the steps. It was a lot of area to cover so I thought that large spreading shrubs would get the job done. Over time, those shrubs have overtaken most of the flowers that were there and now its one overgrown tumble. Our son-in-law replaced five rotting steps for us last year signaling the fact that this garden needed a little attention. I had been eying this project since spring but the ground had been so dry and hard that it was impossible to dig or pull anything up. With the past week of rain, the timing was perfect to tackle the clean up. 

     Normally this job would have taken me a day to accomplish. Today I got about one third done and had to stop. I was winded and red-faced and light headed every time I stood up. It was frustrating to want to do a task but not have my body cooperate. It was so beautiful outside and I love to dig in the dirt that I really wanted to stay at it. I got some water and sat in the shade of a tree thinking I just needed a little rest. The breeze at the top of the little hill was instantly cooling and it was glorious to sit and look down the valley from this raised up spot. I glanced to the left and gazed at the tool shed and perennial bed. Everything was in full bloom and from this vantage point it looked really pretty. I knew there were weeds to be pulled over there as well but I brushed that thought aside. I gave myself permission to just sit and enjoy. 

     I pondered all we have accomplished over the past twenty years here. This land was an empty, five acre field when we bought it. We have always felt thankful to God for giving us the ability to own this land for a spell. It is home and we have worked hard to bring beauty to it. It is a gift to even have the ability to do the work. As I cooled down and relaxed in the shade I realized it was time to call it a day. I made an appointment with myself to come back out here early Thursday morning to get dirty again. The garden isn't going anywhere and the weeds...they got enough scolding for one day.

    
 

Covid Round Two

      Hello again you evil fiend. I had hoped you would stay well away from us. Just when life was settling in to a nice summer routine, my husband and I were taken down with our second bout of Covid. We first had it in the beginning of the pandemic, two and a half years ago. This time around, it is a variant of the original virus and is reported to be not as deadly. I can testify that, for me, it is still a very miserable thing to have. We caught it locally at a small, unassuming meeting that Steve attended. He came down with it first. Although he mostly stayed up on the second floor of our home while he was sick, I soon caught it too. Anyway, the good news is that after one week we are much improved and we get to continue on our way in life. I hope for everyone to stay well. Covid is still out there and, as we know, it's not going away. Steve and I take every precaution that is reasonable yet we still catch this virus. I know some people who have never caught it and I would love to know the secrets of their immune system.

     I was able to stitch and read during the first couple of days of illness and this buoyed my spirits. I had a small stack of used books that I bought at the Bedford Library a couple of months ago. I like to have a reserve pile of books to use for traveling or for when I just like holding a real paper book. I enjoyed both of these stories immensely. "My Italian Bulldozer" is a very simple story about a writer who publishes books on food and wine. He travels to a little Italian village to finish writing a book. The story transported me away to Italy, to the sights and sounds of a tiny village and life in a far away place.

     Equally amusing and pleasurable to read is this old story of "Greyfriar's Bobby". (Some may remember Disney making a movie of this story back in the 1960's.) It is a sweet, amusing story of a little dog that is dedicated to his owner, an old shepherd who sadly dies. The little dog is adopted by all the village folk, old and young, and the story tells of his escapades. It is written using a lot of Scottish dialect but once I encountered the phrases over several pages, my brain clicked into it and I was able to carry on in amusement. The story takes place in the mid to late 1800's which made it even more interesting to me.

A few stitches a day might see this finished by the end of summer. It is done using one thread of floss over one thread of 40 count linen so it's an eye-crosser for sure.