Weather Report and A [Lengthy] Quilt Update

I woke at half past 5 this morning, rearranged pillows, nudged a cat or two from the place where my feet wanted to be. Another hour of sleep crept up on me before the room took on the grey light of pre-dawn. By 7:15 a tinge of faint orange-red was beginning to stain the eastern horizon and the digital thermometer indicated a freezing 3 F. The sun did fully emerge, which was cheering, but didn't encourage much warmth.

I had a chiropractor appointment in town and an errand to get the latest finished quilt on its way to the owner. Jim decided to go along as driver--which meant he was designated to get out in the cold and fuel up the car.

He took care of his errand at Tractor Supply Co. while I lay on the chiropractor's table. Quilt delivered, then into Wal Mart with a short list of items needed: fresh veg for salads, tins of tuna for humans, tinned food for the cats, with the usual hovering over the shelves wondering which assortment would appeal to the majority of the tribe. 

Thimble-kitten gobbles any variety on offer, others may turn up scornful noses at 'dinners' labeled 'mixed grill' or 'seafood platter.' 

Within about 5 minutes of entering Wal Mart I don't want to be there. I walk as fast as I can, headed purposefully for the items on my list. Jim decided to push the shopping cart and plodded behind me with a vaguely unhappy face. He insists on using the self checkout stands while, as a rule, I impatiently wait in line for a human checker.

The self check device today was balky--rang up several items twice, refused to scan others. We solicited the help of the clerk designated for that job. A pleasant soul, bundled in a hooded jacket, standing by with her little key to over-ride the scanner's miscalculations. She smiled apologetically, displaying blackened and broken teeth. 'The machines just do this some days,' she explained.

Home through the sun-glittered early afternoon; home to the warmth and scent of the woodfire and the thronging welcome of the cats. 

I concocted a chicken/veg/barley soup. I am usually a great soup maker, but this one seemed 'off' in some way that I couldn't identify. We each ate a bowl full, but I took the rest out for the barn cats.

There is a new visitor these last cold days, a grey and white cat, not thin or bedraggled, but obviously skittish. I suppose it is another semi-feral Tom. If I give it a name does that mean it will feel welcome to return? The huge tabby we call 'Herman' has been visiting for nearly three years, still dashes away when we come near. He stands glowering at me from the foot of the steps or behind the tubs which in summer hold flowering plants. 

'You eat my food,' I tell him; 'You think nothing of spraying the doorposts! A bit of gratitude wouldn't go amiss!'

I made myself bundle up and trudge once around the meadow loop. There was little wind but the cold was invasive. I pulled my scarf over my face--which made my glasses fog. Chuffing back up from the lower slope of meadow I listened to the squeaky crunch of snow under my boots. I stomped my feet on the rug outside the back door, was startled to find that when I stepped onto the polished concrete floor inside my feet slid as though on ice.

8:15 P.M. and 9 degrees F as I write. The next 36 hours are meant to be our coldest with a slight warming trend by Wednesday. 

Those who know that we spent most of our lives in Vermont before a 12 year adventure in Wyoming often remark, 'You don't mind this cold, do you? After all, you must have gotten used to it!'

We do mind it, but also remind ourselves that we aren't dealing with frozen water pipes in an old house, or the need to get a recalcitrant vehicle started in a timely way to head for work. 

We did note today the incongruity of the garden seed racks lining several aisles in Wal Mart! 

Gardeners are always optimistic, ready for the next season.

Lemon verbena that spends summers on the back porch. I pruned it hard when it was brought inside in early November. Twiggy new growth leans into the light of the south window.

The west porch room became too cold for plants, so rosemarys and geraniums are crowded on a table in the middle sunroom. A beefsteak begonia has blossomed and the ungainly Norfolk Island Pine towers in the corner.

A zoom shot from the horizontal north window high on the main floor bathroom wall. The Flicker is a frequent visitor.

Thimble-kitten on the windowsill behind my bed. I tried to get a better photo of the Rail Fence quilt, which meant that Thimble wanted to 'help.'

I did enjoy working with the strips of favorite fabrics during the long winter of covid shut downs.

As each 6 inch unit was trimmed and assembled into a 12 inch 4-patch block, it was layered with a square of batting and backing, using scraps left from other quilts. I was inspired to try 'quilt-as-you-go' free motion quilting. I muddled through 14 of 49 blocks, put them away. When I determined this fall that I would finish the project I used masking tape to guide a double diagonal 'X'.

This is the free-hand leaf design that I attempted.

Attempts at 'cinnamon roll' swirls. Perhaps had I persevered I could have achieved something passable if not artistic, but the idea of struggling with the remaining blocks was too daunting. I watched you tube demonstrations for various ways of joining the quilted blocks. Having already layered blocks, batting and backing there was too much bulk in the joining seams to work as neatly as I would have liked. Applying the horizontal covering strips was laborious.

By whatever method one chooses, at some point there comes the task of pushing a large wodge of bulky material through the machine. I found it impossible to achieve perfectly straight seams.

When finished, I spent some time considering what a much better quilt I could have made by joining the rows in the conventional way and waiting until such time as I could deliver it for proper machine quilting.

However, it is on my bed, it is colorful, it is warm. 

Devin's quilt, 16 inch blocks utilizing previously made Sawtooth Stars.

Photos of the finished [quilted] piece are on my phone and I've been too lazy to attempt posting from that device. I name my quilts. This one is 'Staggering Stars.'

'Heart To Heart'

Kristin's quilt, binding done last evening and delivered to a friend today who will, in turn, hand over to K.  These two [huge] quilts were a departure from the traditional designs that usually inspire me. 

Janet, who does my machine quilting, worked an allover design of loopy heart shapes. 

Friend Jennie in Wales shared a photo of a block she is exploring. It intrigued me, so I drafted it as a 9 inch [finished] Ohio Star variation and pulled out some fabric that has been waiting for just the right project. After sketching, measuring, cutting, I had time to construct two blocks, picking apart two of the corner units twice[!] before I got it right. 

My brain does NOT do mirror imaging. I have to lay the whole block out in units beside the sewing machine, carefully pick up the little pieces and stitch them. It shouldn't be possible to turn them the wrong way between the table and the sewing machine-but I can do it!

Also a work in progress, 'Aunt Sukey's Choice' using Moda fabrics from my stash.

Last evening I watched an older video from Kate of The Last Homely House, in which she mentioned having 9 projects 'on the go.'

I usually have three, as well as pondering others, but more than that would be frustrating, mind boggling.

There's the saying among quilters, 'She who dies with the most fabric, wins.' 

I don't want to be the winner, so I keep at it!

Finally:  you may recall that we refused to buy an oil lamp priced at $45. Today, wheeling madly through Wal Mart, we came upon a display of oil lamps and bottles designated as lamp oil. $15 for the lamp, a few dollars for the jug of 'oil' 

Jim has filled this one and stashed it on a high shelf in the pantry, ready for the next power outage.

I'm trying not to think of Thimble-kitten exploring the lighted lamp only to singe her whiskers, break the chimney or set the house afire.

 

Bleak Mid-Winter

Before the snow began

Mid-day, as dark as early morning.

In the midst of the snow flurries the juncos arrived. Opening the front door in an attempt to zoom in on them sends them fluttering away. They bounce about, pecking in the gravel, sleek feathered, black capped. 

On a cold sunny morning after a week of intermittent snow, freezing rain, fierce winds that left us overnight without power, I stepped off the back porch  and found this tiny corpse. There seemed no damage such as a cat might inflict, only the tiny head twisted at a slight angle. My thought is that the bird was driven by a gust of wind to smack into the side of the house, perhaps hitting a sun-porch window and dropping to the ground below. I marveled at the beauty of the feathers, the patterning of white on black. 

I carried the little thing to the edge of the south ravine, tossed it onto a snow-dusted heap of leaves.

A few mornings later Jim and I were sitting at our respective desks when I became aware of a repetitive tapping. I enquired of J. was he watching a video of some sort. We sat listening alertly and traced the sound to just outside J's west bedroom window.

I scooted downstairs and out the porch door in time to see a woodpecker bashing away at the wooden siding. This was a unique happening. We often see various woodpeckers and flickers or hear their distinctive drumming coming from the wooded ravines, but never one 'attacking' the house. 

I wonder if the 'drummer' is the mate of the dead bird.

Cold clear days with snow on the ground are beautiful with sun-sparkles and patterns of blue shadows.

My calendar notations record that I have walked on only 7 of January's 18 days.

I pull on boots to scurry out with kitchen scraps that are tossed under a tree behind the workshop. I hope that birds, or even the lurking possum, perhaps the grey squirrels, find some bits of nourishment in our crusts and veg parings.

Dealing with the cat litter boxes in slippery weather takes a bit more careful plodding down the slope to the edge of the south ravine. I note the branches and twigs downed in the wind, pick my way around patches of ice, glad to return to the warmth of the house.

Snow cleared by deer to find patches of grass.

On days when the wind is less bitter and the sun shines, I bundle up and trudge around the meadow loop or out to the mailbox on the road. I notice the tracks of the barn cats, Willis and Sally, and the lurking feral, Herman. A possum has dragged its ratty tail through the snow; there are the distinctive marks where a rabbit has bounded along the slope beneath the big oak. 

Less welcomed are the paw prints indicating that dogs on the loose have barged through the dooryard again. 

On January 9 the sun shone although the daytime temp didn't rise above the freezing mark. Walking up the slope of the east meadow I was companioned by a flutter of birds: bluebirds, sparrows, several small greyish birds who moved through low branches too quickly for me to identify them. A cardinal flashed through the hedgerow, a robin perched in the twisted branches of an oak long enough for me to focus a zoom shot with my old camera. 

Whether the days are cold--or colder, dark or cheerfully sunny, there are the quotidian tasks of housekeeping and simple meals, laundry that in this weather is mostly finished in the dryer rather than pegged out to freeze on the back porch lines. 

Observations, words, phrases, tumble through my mind but fail to be committed to screen or paper.

I read until my vision blurs; Cousin Pat and I have reviewed several of the stories in our shared French Canadian ancestry. 

Two large quilt tops were finished and handed over to Janet who does most of my machine quilting. Binding on the one for grandson D. and delivered to him; the one for his special lady, K. picked up on Thursday and awaiting the formidable task of binding. A finish--finally-on the Rail Fence quilt that was begun during the winter of Covid seclusion. I attempted the 'quilt-as-you-go' process on that one, put it away in discouragement, brought it out with a determination to finish. Not a totally satisfactory production but the thing is on my bed. Perhaps the best compliment is to say it is colorful!

So, more than halfway through the month.

Daylight is lengthening, but we are braced for predicted severe cold during the coming week.

The pantry is well-stocked, the woodshed likewise.

Should we need to venture out we have warm clothes, stout boots, reliable vehicles. 

I have three sewing projects underway, two new books.

Springtime when it arrives will be welcome, but I'm reminded of my Mother's admonition not to 'wish away' life pining for the future rather than making the best of the present!

A rather blurry photo of the Rail Fence quilt--I suspect I deleted the better one.

Would like to remove this one, but that no longer seems to be an option.

 

December 31st, 2024

A day of wild weather to close out the year. Not so unusual for late December as my 'Memories' feed on Facebook pops up my record of rain and wind ushering in the New Year.  Was it last year--or the year before--that January rolled in with a deep freeze and snow?

I stayed up late on Monday, sewing until 11 and then reading in bed til nearly 2 A.M. I slept through the beginning of what Jim describes as brief bouts of heavy rain.

This morning the sky was blue for a few minutes--clouds billowing and scudding before a north-west wind that grew colder by the hour. A few rumbles of distant thunder had the cats skittering with storm nerves. 

From within the house the sound of wind could be heard, the sort of wind that shrieks through the tree tops.  Wet leaves, long fallen, were whisked up to sail soddenly before lodging in the winter-faded  grass. Standing outside with my old camera I watched the tops of trees sway, bare branches etching a constantly changing pattern against the sky.

 

Squalls of icy rain banished the sun. Gone before noon it left us with a grey afternoon.

 I considered walking to the mailbox, but the sudden showers and the buffeting wind convinced me to retreat to my sewing project.

Wind throbbing through the trees, a moaning crescendo of sound.

Tattered seed heads of clematis, bobbing in the wind.

The wood stacked in the shed caught my attention this morning, the varying shapes and sizes. 

If the restless storms take out the power we will still be warm!

December

 

Autumn blessed us with unusually warm weather in spite of days when clouds or rain prevailed. Online weather forecasts predicted frost on several nights but we were left untouched until 29th November. 

I had reluctantly cleared the planters away from the front steps on the 17th, repotting geraniums that I decided to house for another winter, lugging large pots, still soil filled, to store in the greenhouse. 

Nasturtiums that wilted during late summer heat revived and bloomed profusely and untidily through September, October and well into November. 

I brought in the smallest pot of them and landed it on the folding table set up in the west porch room where my rosemarys should survive all but the coldest winter nights. The nasturtiums are straggling but I've allowed seeds to ripen on the off chance that before winter is over they might germinate and give me a head start on new plants.

Winter settled in with the turning of the calendar page to December; a week of freezing temperatures, some light snow, encroaching darkness, most days too cold to encourage walking the usual loops around the meadow. 

Christmas Eve has caught me almost unaware. I look back over the notes scribbled in the spaces of the calendar on my desk and find the usual quotidian tasks of laundry, meal prep and cleaning interspersed with reading and sewing, a few trips to the South Fork shops for supplies. 

We've noticed the early evening darkness that leads to the Winter Solstice, yawning, looking at the clock to find it is far too early for bedtime. Most evenings I get a renewed burst of energy, go downstairs to sew. 

There have been the usual church duties, music to prepare, taking my turn at the piano or to lead a lesson study.

I've taken only a few photos, few of the words which parade through my head have found their release onto screen or paper. 

Jim watches TV late in the evening, I read online before reading in bed until after midnight.

Robert-cat before daylight begins urging me to get up and let him out into the still chilly and dark mornings. 

Sunrises and sunsets are glowingly brilliant even on days which segue into overcast mode. 

I attended a fine Christmas concert in a church in town--the choir included a number of people that I know. Driving home in the early dusk [having been admonished by daughter G. to be home before dark] I noted a flock of geese, their winged shapes moving darkly across the grey sky. 

I've caught the flashing red of cardinals in the trees that edge the north ravine; Thimble-kitten alerts me when sparrows land in the bare branches of the magnolias outside the living room windows. I've not yet seen the juncos that usually bob about the dooryard in winter. 

It has been a quiet month; the usual underlying concerns and worries that plague any family, the dismay over events in the news about which we can do so little. The so-called 'little things' which spark delight are to be cherished.

A tragedy last Saturday afternoon has left the county saddened and outraged. A 7 year old girl died when a drunk driver overtook the car in which she was riding with both her grandmothers. The man was noted driving his pickup truck at an excessive rate of speed, rammed the car which over-turned in the ditch, killing the child, injuring her younger brother and the two women.

The intoxicated man was found to have numerous DUI offenses on record. 

How does one begin to forgive or comprehend such utter disregard for life?

A rhetorical question. 

We have been presented with early Christmas gifts, although we have protested that Christmas with no small children to delight is more about family gatherings and enjoying festive meals . Many of the family birthdays are in December and January and we tend to honor those days with special gifts and outings.

Today was overcast and the temperature has held at a degree or two above 40 F. A few spatters of cold rain kept me company on my walk this morning, not enough to be labeled as showers.

We enjoyed Belgian waffles at nearly noon, served with blueberry sauce, maple syrup and turkey bacon. 

Thus another Christmas Eve is slowly and quietly passing into history.

My haphazard but heart-felt prayers for all of you who read are for quiet joys, good health, peace of mind, no matter what the New Year holds.

'Gleam' nasturtiums brought inside before the late November frost.

Sunrise.

Grandson D. requested a quilt.  I wanted a 'big block' pattern and found a variation of 'Turning Twenty' on pinterest. The largest unit in each block was designated as an 8 inch square of fabric. I had thirty 8 inch Sawtooth Star blocks on hand which made a far more interesting and unique quilt. The blocks are meant to be 'turned' and as I wanted the 'stars' to be offset--and had used several directional fabrics, I had created for  myself considerable rearranging and some picking out of misplaced blocks--before I was satisfied with the layout. The quilt top is at the workshop of the woman who does what I call a neat 'everyday' quilting. In the meantime, D. suggested that his girlfriend K. yearned for a quilt of her own, so that one is in the works, becoming a bit more time-consuming than I anticipated. 

Laundered sheets were pegged on the back porch lines during Sunday's burst of sunshine.

I put my Christmas Geese quilt on my bed, then immediately covered most of it with throws for the cats!

Rosie is appreciative of a nap on the fleecy tartan throw--and a few moments of peace before Thimble kitten lands on the bed to torment her.

Quilts: Finished and In Progress

Unless quilt projects are of interest, this rambling photo-heavy post will bore you!

I decided, on a gloomy Sunday afternoon in March, to undertake a sorting of fabric and projects.

There are four deep drawers holding my stash of [mostly] Moda fabrics acquired during the years I worked at Wyoming Quilts. These are carefully folded according to designer 'lines.' Several large covered bins hold quality yardage purchased from retailers who offered 'flat folds.'

Then there are the inevitable 'remnants' of different shapes and sizes, left from completed projects. Most disheartening was the cache of 'orphan blocks' and scattered components of such, rejected in the final assembly of a given quilt, but too good to toss out, so tucked away in an assortment of zipper bags and small containers.

The thought of starting fresh projects, finally using some of my lovely hoard, was appealing, but quickly followed by the realization that this would inevitably result in more 'scraps.'

It had been several years since I tackled unfinished sewing, time to revive my New England sense of Yankee thrift and get on with it.

This is the large daylight room in the walk-out lower lever of the house. It was planned as a family room/living area, but was never used as such. Several years ago I moved my sewing machine from the adjacent large guest room, but didn't then undertake any rearrangement of furniture.

On a morning in early July I announced that changes were needed. 

Jim, who was working for Howard at the time, rolled his eyes, snorted, made noises about people who are 'always' hurting their backs hoiking things around. [That would be me!]

Howard resignedly offered that if I would empty the furniture pieces needing to be shifted he would stop back and do it after work.

With the men out of the way, I had a little think and decided I could do this. My spacial concepts aren't great, so I knew I'd better do some measuring and planning or I'd wear myself out getting furniture stuck where it didn't belong. 

Howard's dogs and several of our cats assembled to watch me unplug sewing machines, unload cupboard shelves, move storage boxes and assorted vintage treasures. 

In the above photo you can see the final arrangement of the two sewing spaces. I can easily scoot my chair between the two machines if need be.

I keep the Janome set up with the walking foot attached for applying quilt bindings. 

[For some reason, I find it awkward to get the walking foot in place, so when I'm in a spate of quilt making it stays put.]

My sewing machines had been for several years set up on opposite sides of the room. 

A few weeks before the 2021 onset of covid restrictions  I took my Janome to the local technician for cleaning and adjustment.  He stated that as many area women were bringing machines to be serviced,  I would be looking at a possible wait of several months before I could retrieve the machine; 

I dusted off my 20 year old Elna and quickly remembered what a smooth machine it is.

In my recent rearranging of the space I swapped out the tables, putting the Elna on the vintage desk I refinished years ago.

A small folding table alongside holds a cutting mat and whatever blocks I'm working on. [It is also a favorite spot for Robert-cat.]

The black cupboard only needed to be scooted a few yards along the floor from its previous spot under the east window. Even empty it didn't move easily!

Since this photo more arranging of the contents has been needed. 

After Thimble-kitten pulled down the open tray full of spools I purchased a plastic  lidded carrier especially designed to hold spools.

Matt and Gina are king and queen of yard sale goods. A decade ago Gina came home with an armload of decorator samples: large chunks of fabric in display books. She enthusiastically announced that 'we' could make a quilt from these. 

[Gina does not sew, thus 'we' had a royal connotation.] 

I removed the labels from the fabric, washed and pressed the pieces and filed them away in a plastic box. If you've worked with decorator cottons, you know that raveling edges are an annoying factor. Having carted the box of samples around through several house moves it seemed time to either get rid of them or think of a way to use them.  I sorted them by color groups--predominately shades of blue, yellow, pastels for this heavy quilt. I cut 8 inch squares and made 4-patch blocks of the remainders. There was enough fabric to place 8 inch squares around the body of the quilt and a heavy nubby beige left from summer bedspreads became the border.

Colorful is hardly the word!

Pinwheel blocks left from a long ago project, some half-square triangles; a few more were constructed  to create this Framed Pinwheel quilt on Jim's bed.

My color preference has long run to deep woodsy tones--I think of them as New England colors--so many leftover bits went into the sashing of this quilt.

I think this has a very structured 'masculine' appeal.

Finished just before the end of 2023, so not part of this summer's gathering.

Vintage Robyn Pandolph fabric from my stash and experimenting with a 'Flying Geese" tool.

This pattern has been called 'The Potato Chip' quilt. The strips are cut 2 1/2 inches [memories of the Eleanor Burns method!] and its meant to use up small remnants--which it did. The idea is for the strips to be random; I don't do random! My take became a variation of the Courthouse Steps block. An assortment of floral fabrics went into this with a pansy print for the border and a soft green butterfly print for backing and binding.

Two friends from church had recently lost both older sister and mother.

I created a large lap quilt for each of them as a love gift.

16 Patch blocks with sashing and cornerstones. 

This was my gift for the sister who had been caregiver for their mother.

Time consuming but made use of small pieces of cheerful prints.

I take these 'everyday quilts' to a woman who does the quilting on an industrial Singer machine. 

She offers only the one graceful looping pattern, simple, affordable, sturdy.

I rummaged out a bag of strips cut in 1 3/4 inch widths, left from a quilt I was asked to make about 10 years ago. The blue border fabrics were purchased for a project that was interrupted by one of our moves. I named this quilt 'Summer Meadow.'

Log Cabin blocks are my favorite as they can be set in so many varying patterns.

This one features the very last strips of some fabrics I have loved. 

I named it 'Autumn Migration.' It is not sized for a queen bed, but it is a keeper.

 I took this one to a local long-arm machine quilter who has started working again after the death of her husband.

One quilt wasn't enough to deal with the decorator fabric samples. 

I constructed another slightly smaller, adding some scraps of my own leftovers from curtains and cushions. To piece out enough blocks I added four-patch units. 

The quilt is currently spread over my bed--it is sturdy enough to stand up to the cats.

This one, started during the winter of covid lock downs was meant to be a quilt-as-you-go project. Nothing extra to be purchased, no need to take the top to a machine quilter. I tried one of these projects previously and determined I wouldn't attempt such again.

Still--other people manage free-motion quilting--some do it beautifully and artistically. Surely I could manage something simple?

Perhaps if I had great patience and perseverance. I scrabbled away at 14 blocks, got discouraged and put the whole thing away.

I got it out last week, used wide painter's tape as guides to stitch a double X in the remaining blocks.

For a few moments I considered trying the free-motion thing again. Not! 

Its going together in a hybrid method--tediously and without the kind of precision that I usually achieve. I'm over it, but I'm going to give it a finish. It can serve as a utility blanket; I won't be troubled if the cats pick at it or stomp across it with muddy feet. 

Time to call it done and move on. 

I have several other projects started and ready to turn my attention to what I do well.