Kentucky Winter

Daffodils were one of the first things I noticed when we viewed this property nearly two years ago and decided to buy the little farm.  That was at the beginning of March and the yellow trumpets were just starting to unfold.  When we returned March 20th, we were met with sprawls of daffs [called March lilies here] spreading across green fields and along roadside ditches.

These stalwart buds were photographed yesterday in the south-facing patch beside the carport.

Today a morning rain persisted half-heartedly through a day that became ever more grey and dismal.

I went out late in the afternoon to empty litter boxes and gather my kindling twigs. The rain was turning to fat squashy snowflakes. 

I have a sinus/head cold [misery!] and was unpleasantly chilled by the time I returned to the house, my wellies leaving damp muddy tracks on the basement stairs as I carried in my twigs.

D. drove up tonight for a visit--chortling that school has been called off for tomorrow.

Admittedly Kentucky roads are narrow and winding, and when they are sheltered by a ridge hulking up to the north, any ice that forms on the roadway is slow to melt.

Still, the near panic with which an inch or two of snow is greeted here is amusing to this family, having spent most of our winters in New England or Wyoming.

I have kept the sliding door shut today, not wanting the damp chill to seep in nor the cats to go in and out with muddy paws.  They have been disgruntled.

M. and G. arrived mid-morning with M's latest culinary triumph--easily the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever had.

Several of them went down very nicely with a mug of tea.

He added dried cherries to Betty Crockers classic recipe.

Willis exercises his privileges as a cat who lives outside but is allowed to saunter in and stay for awhile.

Sometimes he takes over a prominent spot such as the sofa or curls tidily on the hearth rug. He's been known to roost on the shelves above the fridge, hiding cosily behind several large crocks.

I am monitoring his indoor visits quite warily at present.

J. knew that Willis had spent the evening indoors on Friday, but couldn't locate him to put him

outside at bedtime.

Where the canny feline hid, we can't imagine, but there he was was next morning, smugly eating

kibble in the kitchen.

I spent most of my time in the basement room for several days working to finish a quilt, using my laptop in the livingroom for a few brief minutes online.

When I entered this room on Tuesday it had a suspicious 'whiff.'

A cat had 'peed' in the middle of the guest bed!

The puddle had dried, but the odor was unmistakeable.

"But you didn't see Willis do it, " argued G. defending him.

NO--but the only other time we've had misplaced cat pee, Willis had also spent the night in the house.

On that occasion J. woke suddenly and unpleasantly just after daybreak as Willis let fly --down his back.

Enough said!

I have washed a considerable amount of bedding this week--hanging it out to air dry as much as possible, then bundling it into the dryer to finish.

I remade the bed with sheets that smelled of January winds, spreading a quilted coverlet and topping the bed with a favorite smaller quilt--one of the first ones I had machine-quilted at the shop where I eventually became an employee.

I love the muted floral fabrics--very becoming to Mrs. Beasley the Cat.

Early Morning Frost--Firewood--and a Few Cat Photos

I was awake around 5 a.m. trying to be quiet. The cats, of course, knew that I was awake and I endured being lovingly stomped upon, kneaded through layers of quilts, purred at.

By 6: 15 daylight was seeping through the shutters.

I quietly gathered slippers and robe, and trailed by cats, tip-toed off to huddle in front of the fireplace.

The cats milled about and clamoured.

Right!  Dish out the tinned cat food and perhaps there will be a few moments of peace in which to contemplate the day!

The sun was just breaking over the ridge when I went outside, well bundled in warm clothes and boots, camera tucked in my pocket.

The frost-furred oak leaf caught my eye.  It lay on the grassy path across the back pasture--barely touched by the emerging sun.

I think this is a sycamore leaf--glossy and tawny.

I fed Pebbles her grain, then ambled down the edge of the front field and across the road to Big Creek.

Twisted vines make a natural wreath.

The recent rains made for squelchy walking along the creek. There is thick undergrowth, rotting tree stumps and tangles of vine.

Moss spread around the base of this stump, brilliantly green and fresh in the morning light.

Back across the road and up the boundary fence to where pasture meets the neighbor's woods.

The fence corner there is overgrown with wild rose canes, some stunted cedars and all manner of weeds.

In spring and summer stepping into the shady triangle is an invitation for ticks to hop aboard.

This small wild blackberry bramble glowed as the sun's rays fingered into the chilly shadows near the cedars.

Mullein, curled and folded like a cabbage, frost-furred.

I'm not sure of the identity of this leaf.  It may be a variety of cottonwood or a yellow poplar [tulip tree] We have both on the property.  I should have gathered some and brought them in to study, but--my fingers were getting cold!

Lichen shimmering grey-green on long-fallen branches at the edge of the woods.

Frost asters bent into whimsical contortions in the tall grass beneath the black walnut tree.

Friday was a beautiful day--sunny, crisply clear.

J. rounded up Gina and me to help load firewood in neighbor Ed's pasture.

The usual gathering of Jersey cattle assembled to observe.

Seconds after I snapped this photo, G. let out a startled shriek and dropped the piece of wood she had picked up.

Something furry had scuttled away as she disturbed the pile of wood.

"Furry" turned out to be a pair of voles or mice---short-tailed critters-- who had built a nest of dried grass under the teepee of limb wood.

I was reminded of the 'house' which Pooh and Piglet built for Eeyore at Pooh Corner.

One of the furries hastily trundled off to a nearby collection of twigs and branches.

This one darted here and there, stopping to burrow into the grass.

An added note:  Al pointed out that UK moles look different than the pictured rhodent.  In thinking about this I believe I have mis-called them. Although we have many true moles--or seem to, judging by the number of up-earthed runs in the dooryard--I suspect the creatures we disturbed may be VOLES or even a species of meadow mouse.

I stroked it with one cautious finger--soft fur like a rabbit--while G. scolded that it likely was a carrier of

something at least as dire as bubonic plague.

We unloaded wood, ate soup and cinnamon toast before hurrying to bring home yet more wood.

By 4 o'clock the daylight was slipping away.

D. arrived from after school errands to convey his Mom back to their house.

I folded myself gratefully into my rocking chair by the fire, a mug of tea wrapped in chilly hands.

I chuckled when I looked up at Willow asleep in J.'s recliner. Note the curled under toes of her back feet.

I have worked at quilt block construction several evenings this week.

Willis decided to 'help' by taking a nap on a bin of fabrics.

I needed to open the bin and prodded him awake, hence the sleepy-eyed stare.

He was disinclined to move.

I explained that he was in danger of having his toes mutilated by my rotary cutter.

I told him that he was in my way, that I needed to mark diagonal lines on the back of the red squares

and didn't feel he could be of assistance.

I mentioned that he was shedding tweedy hairs on my quilt-in-progress.

You can see that I was ignored.

Willis: inscrutable and immoveable!

My Favorite Things [Answering a Challenge]

Leanne gave us a tour of her home last week and issued a challenge for her readers to do the same.

Bovey Belle posted her response here.

I haven't seen those of other readers, but have prepared a photographic gathering of my own favorite things.

Most of the photos were taken during the past few days especially for this post, for others I sorted through my photo archives.

The marriage certificate of my g-grandfather and his second wife, the lady I knew as Grandma Eliza.

They were married in 1892. I was just past my 5th birthday when she passed away.

I treasure items which have been handed down in my family.

I found the framed certificate leaning against a bedroom wall in my parents' home after my Mother had to go into a nursing care home.

The glass was shattered; I picked out the shards, wrapped the piece in an old blanket and took it with me to Wyoming where I had a frame shop install protective glass.

The certificate is currently resting on a chest of drawers which I stripped, sanded and

painted in this dark red.

Refinishing furniture is an activity which I have enjoyed in the past.



A friend in Vermont helped to administer the estate of a beloved elderly lady of our church.

Esther Jane had lived very frugally and never thought of selling the vintage items which had been lifelong furnishings of her home.

I was living in Wyoming when EJL passed away.  I sent funds, hoping that my friend could bid in this oil painting. It depicts a part of EJL's dooryard.

I was told by the framer that it wasn't proper to use a mat with an oil painting--but I wanted the rust-red border so I defied convention.

This painting was created for me by a friend who has since made a name for herself in the artistic community of Brandon, Vermont.

She worked from a photo of my beloved Katy-did Cat.

Several years ago I found an on-line source for reproduction maps of various towns in New England and upstate New York.

This is the town of Hague, NY where my mother's ancestors settled in the late 1700's. Several of my cousins still live there.  With their help I was able to verify the location of several family homes labeled on the 1876 original.  I also have a map of my own Vermont hometown [where my parents were born, lived and died] and one of the central Vermont hamlet J. thinks of as "home."

I placed tiny dots of red ink at each family homesite before having the maps framed.

They hang in the hallway of our home.

Family tradition has it that g-grandmother Eliza pieced these quilt blocks from salvaged segments of aprons, "house dresses" and shirts. Her hand stitching is neat and precise.

The quilt top languished in my mother's dresser drawer for years until I backed it with muslin and tied it as a surprise birthday gift for her.

She loved the quilt--and loved using it folded at the foot of her bed.  As often as one of the cats muddied it, the quilt went into the wash. The old materials softened and frayed. The pink-checked sashing gave way.

Mother washed it one last time and put the tattered treasure aside with the note, in her now shaky handwriting, that the quilt was to be saved for me.

I rescued the best of the blocks and hand quilted them to squares of an old white sheet. I added the setting triangles of washed muslin.  J.'s cousin Lorraine, an artist and needlewoman, suggested the type of framing.

My son and daughter each have a framed block; my girl cousins and several other descendents of our g-grandparents also have finished blocks.

A double panel of the quilt blocks. Reflections on the glass make for a less than sharp photo.

J.'s sister-in-law took these photos [and many more] when the family went on pack trips into the mountains..

I chose a number of them, scanned, cropped and printed them on photo paper, then framed them as my Christmas gift for J. in 2010.

This rocking chair belonged to my Grampa Mac.

I grew up next door to his farm and remember how many evenings he spent in this chair, twitching the radio dial from one station to another. After his death and that of my uncle, my mother gave me the rocker.

The woven splint areas were in bad shape and I used it for several years by folding a blanket into a pad.

J. learned that a friend could create a replacement for the damaged seat and back..  He had this done as my Christmas gift one year. The cushion is a favorite one which I made.

The making of this appliqued quilt happily occupied my evenings for most of a Wyoming winter.

A friend at the quilt shop where I worked taught me to do hand applique.

A new friend in Kentucky brought me the quilt rack.

It is topped with some old wooden spindles, ceramic cats from my collection and a reproduction lantern.

As a child I loved to bring home wildflowers, interesting rocks, bits of moss, bird nests.

My Grampa Mac placed an old table on his front porch where my ever-changing found items could be displayed.  I still bring in fallen bird nests. This one belonged to a pair of cardinals.

The bits of petrified wood were picked up on a Wyoming camping trip.

Vintage kitchen collectables parade along the top of kitchen cupboards.

Some, such as the wooden bowl, came from my g-grandparents' house.  Others have been purchased at flea markets and antique shops.

More kitchen and farm utensils.  I like stoneware jugs.

The old torch came from Grampa Mac's shed.

I bought the large round tin as it reminded me of one which reposed in his kitchen cupboard.

I am a tea drinker and have a collection of teapots in various sizes and shapes.

The center beauty was made for me by a dear Wyoming friend.

She and her Mom collaborated to give me the two flanking Fiesta ware pots.

It is thanks to the same two generous women that I have my Fiesta dishes.

Louise spent much of her working life at the Homer Laughlin factory.

When she retired she had lifetime privileges to buy Fiesta at factory prices.

I would tell her what I could spend and she surprised me with an assortment of the colorful pieces.

It is no secret that I adore cats.

Over the years friends and family have given me cat-related gifts.

Here are some of my cat mugs.

I have a collection of jugs and pitchers.

The one in the center was a thank-you gift from a dear friend.

I fed her family cats while she and her husband were in Quebec.

The handsome jug was purchased there.

On the right is the tall "chocolate pot" with an Oriental scene.  It belonged to my grandmother.

I have wondered if it was a wedding gift to her and Grampa Mac--or maybe something she brought from her family home.

More cat mugs, a bone china rose mug [found in a charity shop] and an overflow of Fiesta mugs.

I have always used scented soaps and lotions.

At one time I enjoyed some rather sophisticated perfumes, but have returned to my first simpler loves such as lavender and rose.

I began making quilts in 1980.

My skills were honed by my job in a Wyoming quilt shop and membership in a quilt group which thrived on

"show and tell."

 Log Cabin Star created in Robyn Pandolph's Folk Art Christmas fabrics.

This quilt, like so many I have made, was given to someone special.

Sampler quilt made as a wedding gift.

I enjoyed the challenge of fitting all the elements together.

This one was made in beautiful batik fabrics and machine quilted by a woman with wonderful design skills.

It was displayed and sold at the quilt shop.

A scrappy 9-patch quilt made for a benefit "silent auction."

Music has always been an important part of my life.

An evening of song shared with good friends in our Wyoming home.

You will spot J. and me at the left of the photo.

I can belt out a solid harmony to gospel, bluegrass or country tunes!

Genealogy is one of my passions.

While family lore interested me from childhood, it is only in the past decade that I have been serious about collecting data and assembling it to share.

One of the first photos taken with my first digital camera: the tiny graveyard in Bolton, NY where many of my maternal kin were laid to rest.

J. with his dear Pebbles horse in her Wyoming pasture.

Animals are a special part of our lives.

Teasel, aka "Momma's Darling"

asleep on an Autumn Leaves quilt in our Wyoming bedroom.

Sweet Eggnog kitty on a quilt which now lives with my sister.

When haven't I been sewing something?

I learned to do dressmaking and tailoring quite skillfully before I grew tired of fussing and fitting and turned  to piecing quilts.

Here is a quilt in progress--the last one made in our Wyoming home before the sewing machine was packed up for the move to Kentucky.

Two more cherished vintage items: my Dad's shaving brush and Grampa Mac's shaving mug.

He used a straight razor with a yellowed ivory handle.

I learned to make bread when I was 18. I love to bake, especially bread and pastry,

These photos have gone up in rather random order as I sorted through my archives.

I have a number of Grampa Mac's diaries. His entries are brief--notes on the weather, farm work, rare trips to town, and in later years, always the mention when my sisters and I trotted next door

to spend time with him.

Canning and preserving food is an extension of my dedication to gardening.

I'm glad to be living again where we can grow and put up good food.

A view of my Vermont garden taken in the mid-90's.

I seem to remember I had levered that huge rock in the background to that spot and was awaiting the help of a strong male to heave it out of the garden!

The lower veg garden. 2011

The new planting of herbs at the side of the house.

Gardening is not merely something I DO--its a large part of WHO I AM!

I don't think I've forgotten any of the felines who have lived with me since earliest childhood.

Cats: dear, funny, intelligent, interesting, exasperating.

Teasel investigates some of my stash of quilt fabric.

Music is a vital force in my life, and I am thankful for the gift of music which is a legacy

of my Mother's family.

Have I mentioned books?

My books have not all been unpacked at once in one house for nearly a decade.

At present most of them are in horrible tipples here and there.

Here are a few of them in a slightly tidier mode in the Wyoming house.

I hope some of you have persevered through this lengthy tour of my favorite things.

I hope others will take up Leanne's challenge to portray how our homes tell something of our personal stories.