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.
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