I was invited to share my first CSA experience with Community CROPS on their blog. While I was writing, I realized I had some pictures from the Farm Walk that would be fun to share. It was a lovely evening and my daughter had a blast. If you’re local, I recommend going next year. It will be at their new farm.
Anyone want to guess what vegetable comes from the plants in picture number three?
What is it about hanging threads that we just can’t leave alone? It never ends up good, especially with decorative stitches. One quick pull and half a letter is gone in an instant.
I’m not a big fan of satin stitch. It requires a precision that I just don’t have in me these days. I actually considered fixing this with thread. The thought was so mentally painful that I put it off for months. Then one day I thought to try embroidery floss. Brilliant! Once finished, I can hardly tell the difference. Not the neatest job, but it looks great from across the room.
I once saw a woman doing satin stitch embroidery on a windy day at the park. That’s dedication. Her work was beautiful.
Anyone else out there have a talent for tiny perfect stitches?
I spied this little bat over the summer in Kearney, Ne. It was the only one I saw in all of downtown. Not sure if there is a meaning behind it or not. Google couldn’t give me any answers.
It makes a nice desktop background for October.
Feel free to download and share.
The necklace turned out nice! My only complaint is that the hole was drilled through the bead from top to bottom. I had to make a new hole so the little skull wouldn’t be laying on its side. It’s not super noticeable, but I’d rather not have two empty holes in my necklace.
Yay for thrift store bead collections!
I’m not one to wear bats or skulls as jewelry during the month of October, but when I spotted this little bead in my daughter’s collection, I knew I had to make it into a necklace. I have been thinking a lot about mixing yarn and beads lately, and this finally convinced me to sit down and get to work. I’ll post a pic when it’s finished.
The city library’s book sale was this week (and still going on if you’re local) and I exercised great restraint. I limited myself to two hours and $20 and spent less than that in both time and money. Even more surprising: I didn’t buy anything for myself. Since downsizing my personal collection and getting an e-reader, I’ve been very picky about what I purchase for permanent storage on our shelves. I also happened to be listening to Throw Out Fifty Things on the drive to the sale, specifically the chapter in which a woman had let go of twelve boxes of books in her attempt to declutter her life. (Maybe the universe was trying to speak to me?)
I found a few illustrated German dictionaries to add to my daughter’s collection and a very cool National Geographic Picture Atlas of Our World. Serious stuff aside, I bought some fun things including these Charlie Brown comic books.
I remember spending hours as a kid devouring these over and over. After my daughter became addicted to this Mutts book, I knew she’d enjoy them. She commented that they were a little worn and was sad that someone didn’t take very good care of them. I had to remind her that they were printed the same year as I was born, ahem, and that they had indeed been well cared for over the (cough — many — cough) years.
Add in a few chapter books and a dinosaur drawing book and I had a very happy girl. Watching her read brings such joy to this mama. I hope she never loses her insatiable appetite for the written word.
On the way to school: “Mom, my legs are cold.”
On the way home from school: “Mom, my legs are hot.”
I have a theory. Sometime, way back when, a child uttered those phrases over and over in a whiny voice, until her mother couldn’t take it anymore. The mother grabbed a pair of scissors and jeans with holes in the knees and BAM. Cutoff shorts were invented.
I’d like to thank her for that moment. You see, shorts and skirts are too cold for 50 degree mornings. Jeans and leggings are too hot for 80 degree afternoons. Cutoff shorts are just right. (This is starting to sound like a fairytale.)
My daughter just might wear these everyday until the first frost. Thank goodness I made two pairs.
The first few weeks of September always make me a little blue. Even though it’s technically still summer for a few more days, my Fall allergies have been in high gear for awhile. It’s frustrating because this is my favorite time of year. I love the crisp mornings and cool evenings. I don’t love being a snifflely, sneezey zombie.
It takes a few weeks before I snap out of it. The first frost won’t be here until next month and there are far too many things to enjoy outside. Ragweed doesn’t care if I’m sitting at my daughter’s soccer practice or running up to the grocery store for milk. I can’t escape it. Once I accept it, my mood improves.
Last weekend the weather was beautiful. The air was cool, but the sun was warm. The sky was bright blue and cloudless. I brought a chair and my knitting and soaked in the beauty of Mother Nature. It was definitely worth it.
My daughter loves pickles.
I can remember the first time she tried them as clear as if it was yesterday. We were eating take out on the deck—sandwiches and french fries. My daughter asked for a french fry. I asked her if she wanted to try a pickle instead. I thought she would be surprised by the tart vinegary contrast to what she was expecting. Instead, she surprised me by devouring it and my husband’s, as well.
She’s been a pickle girl ever since. Whenever we are out, it’s kind of an unsaid thing that everyone immediately puts their pickle on her plate. Sometimes she’ll ask the server if she can have a side of pickles as an appetizer. Surprisingly, this hasn’t caught anyone off guard.
A few weeks ago our CSA offered us a choice of two large or five pickling cucumbers. My daughter was stunned. “We can make pickles?!” I remembered a refrigerator pickle recipe in one of the CSA newsletters so I said, “Sure!”
Making pickles is super easy. One of our cucumbers didn’t make it out of the crisper alive, but I managed to fit the other four into a single jar. I chose this recipe from Kate Payne’s website. The hardest part has been the waiting. Just a few more days and we’ll be able to crack open the jar. I’ll let you know what our pickle girl thinks.
After spending a little time on Payne’s website, I checked her book out of the library and I’m really enjoying it. I’ll post a review when I’m finished.
Every year I try to write down some thoughts about September 11th. These entries used to go on my personal blog, but since I’ve merged that one back into my creative blog, my thoughts will go here. If you visit my space for crafty inspiration and don’t feel comfortable reading about this topic, check out some pretty pictures here. My next post will be about pickles, so there’s that.
Beautiful, bright, blue September skies. You know what I’m talking about. You can see them in your head. I don’t need to post a picture of them. These skies make me feel good inside. Joyful. Hopeful. In awe of Mother Nature and Science and God all wrapped up together.
They also make me think of terrorist attacks. I really hate that.
I suppose there’s some excuse that can be made for September skies. We should look for beauty and love even in the midst of sadness and horror. They lift up our hearts when we’re feeling our lowest. Maybe they’re supposed to give us peace when we need it most. I don’t know. All I know is that they make me remember.
Never Forget.
It’s the most overused tagline of the last decade. I find it demanding and bossy. How dare you tell me with your poorly photoshopped bald eagle, American flag and Twin Towers graphic to never forget. Who do you think you are?
I know you have good intentions. You don’t want me to forget the innocent lives lost on that day, the heroes who did so much good that day, the men and women who fight and die for our freedom every day. I get that, but here’s the thing: forgetting isn’t something you have to worry about. I couldn’t even if I tried.
Actually, I was going to try and forget today. I was going to skip this blog post. I was going to avoid television and radio and newspapers and social media, but as soon as I walked outside: BAM. There was that sky.
When I dropped my daughter off at school, she asked why the flag wasn’t all the way up. I looked at her and felt such envy. I know that she will learn about that day and will eventually see videos and images that will break her heart. But she will have one thing that isn’t clouded by the memories of September 11th.
She will always be able to look up at a beautiful, bright, blue September sky and feel good inside with joy and hope and awe for Mother Nature and Science and God all wrapped up together — untainted and pure.
