Bringing Autumn Colors Inside

Little Edward admires my newest quilt.

I began making quilts in the early 1980's. By that time I'd had a fair amount of experience making and altering garments, but there were few guidelines for tackling the old art of 'piecing' quilt blocks.

America's Bi-Centenial observances in 1976 revived a national interest in vintage crafts and

once common skills.

The first quilts I pieced were a struggle for accuracy--cardboard templates placed on fabric, outlined with a pencil, cut out with scissors. Traditional cotton calico prints for the quilts were hard to find.

By 1982 or so, a trickle of books were published featuring some stream-lined and more accurate ideas for cutting and stitching patchwork. Lines of coordinating calicos in several colorways began to appear in local variety stores.  My friend Edie and I were off and running!

We shared our fabric stashes, worked often together, stitching blocks into quilt tops, layering the tops with backing and  fat 'batts' stretched onto an immense plywood work surface that Edie's husband laid out for us. We tied the quilts with heavy crochet cotton, then folded over the edges of the backing, mitering the corners to finish the quilts--more like puffy comforters.

When we had stitched and tied until our eyes were crossing and our shoulders aching, we stopped to down huge mugs of tea and fortify ourselves with home made baked goodies.

By 1990 shops dedicated to quilt makers featured pattern 'how-to' books, colorful fabric lines and all manner of gadgets to aid the quilter in accuracy and speed.

When J. and I moved to Wyoming in 1998 I was surprised to find how many small towns there--miles apart on the high plains--had well-stocked quilt shops. Perhaps the long cold winters inspired legions of quilters--surely a heap of warm bed covers was needed. 

I branched out in my quilt making in part because gardening in Wyoming wasn't an option and I needed to be creative. 

During my last five years in Wyoming I worked part time at Wyoming Quilts in Lander.

One of my responsibilities was to produce two of the quilt designs the shop kept in stock, as well as dozens of pieced place mats, table runners and pillowcases.

Often customers wanted a variation on the stock quilts, so I took my turn at creating these.

Sometimes clients came in bringing partially finished quilt blocks brought to light when an older relative passed on.

These could be a challenge to finish if the late seamstress had not possessed good sewing skills.

I did my share of wailing and cursing over such projects!

At other times, something truly lovely was discovered, and it was a pleasure to have a part in preserving a vintage piece for another generation to cherish.

A special 'treat' was the opportunity to make quilts which show-cased new fabrics as they came in.

I also had a shop discount which encouraged me to collect enough fabric for two life-times of quilt making.

The 'girls' that I worked with there were meticulous quilt-makers.

We worked well together, sharing our skills, commiserating when a project was difficult, quick to praise when a task was finished or one of us had been particularly inventive.

It was an inspiration to work with such creative women.

The Log Cabin Star blocks used in this quilt combine two of my favorite piecing techiniques--the center is called "Sawtooth Star" and the stars are framed with rounds of 'logs' applied in the variation known as 'Courthouse Steps.'

I spent several contented evenings in November, 2009, choosing and cutting [with rotary cutter] the fabrics for this quilt.

I was settling in for the long winter months when an eager buyer appeared for our home!

Much of our first [retirement!?] year in Kentucky was spent  renovating the interior of the 30 year old cottage which we purchased.  Hours also went into gardening, planting flowers, harvesting and canning produce.

By early 2011 J. had turned half of our basement into a cheerful and clean space where I could unpack my stash of fabric, set up a sewing machine and turn again to quilt-making.

Still, it was late winter of 2012 before I at last completed this quilt top--king-sized--and packed it off to Wyoming where it was machine quilted by the owner of the shop where I had so happily worked.

On hearing that J. was in Wyoming for a week, Linda--bless her--made my quilt a priority, finishing it so that J. could bring it home on his return journey.

The mellow, rich colors of the fabrics I chose for this quilt speak to me.  I am reminded of autumn in New England, the place where I spent much of my life.

The warm deep reds, golds and browns mirror the maples, beech and oak, flaring into vibrant color before the grey of November dulls the landscape.

If you look closely, you'll see the deep greens of spruce and pine, the pale cream of  grasses and cat tails which have been bleached by the frosts and winds of October.

In the last photo above you'll note that I spread a small blanket in a favorite cat napping spot at the head of the bed.  Little Edward doesn't know that's where he's meant to be.

I think he does realize that the colors of my autumn quilt set off his black and white coat to perfection!

Settling Into October

The trio of boy cats discovered that the house is a pleasant place to be on chilly evenings or whenever a nap is needed.

A favorite place seems to be on top of the piano.

Sadly, Nellie became so relaxed there after breakfast yesterday that he rolled off and landed in a large 'beefsteak' begonia.  Nellie was unhurt but the plant lost about a dozen leaves. [Sigh]

Such are the hazards of living with cats!

Little Edward, cozy on cushions.

With the suggestion of frost for Sunday evening, G. and I cut zinnias, roses, cosmos--anything we could salvage.

[It didn't frost!]

A tin cup full of roses--ignore the coiled hose in the back of G.'s truck--definitely not photogenic.

Autumn is my favorite season--I love the rich, mellow colors, crisp air, blue-sky afternoons.

J. cut the kale crop with the trimmer--G. has taken it home to can.

The back of her truck was laden with flowers and tender garden produce.

Pebbles, the elderly horse, prefers cooler weather and is more spritely than during the long hot summer.

Heuchera/Coral Bells. I lamented that this clump had been 'lost' to the heat and prolonged draught.

It was a delight to find these renewed plantlets when I cleared away some encroaching grass.

[So much for the laborious weeding and many bags of mulch--it appears the weeding is all to do over.]

Michaelmas daisies.

The long view toward Payne Janes Hill.

Hard Work--With Help

photo by G.

The exterior window sashes and sills have needed painting ever since we bought the place.

In truth, it appears they have needed painting for quite awhile.

I meant to do it last September while J. was working in Wyoming--cold weather came before I caught up with the task.

I have mentioned it several times recently and the suggestion hasn't met with enthusiasm.

Trotting out the idea again today, J. said if I wanted to have at it, go buy the paint.

There were not many choices at Wal Mart--I would have preferred gloss paint, only semi-gloss was in stock. I bought it rather than go all the way to town to the hardware store.

While I was fetching the paint J. removed the window screens and used a wire wheel on the cordless drill unit to brush off scabs and flakes of old paint.

Here Nellie is interested--doubtless the paint looks like a gallon of cream.

photo by G.

Bobby McGee felt he could be of assistance.

Not surprisingly, the windows on the north side of the house are in the worst shape.

J. declared that the paint is merely a 'stop-gap' measure.

At some point the lower sash units and the surrounding frames will need replacement--but not this year.

photo by G.

The old wood slurped up several coats of the quick-drying paint.

photo by G.

I fended off kittens, kept my mind on the placement of my feet.

I'm clumsy enough that I could unwittingly step off the end of the ladder while stretching for an out of

reach spot.

My photo

The kitchen window is above the cement stairs leading into the basement.

J. positioned a sturdy step ladder on each side of the wall and laid planking between.

We both knew that I would still be likely to lose my balance and fall.

[I wasn't clever at this sort of thing even in my prime.]

J. managed to wash the window, paint the frame and carry on a phone conversation while the

kittens and I observed.

Tomorrow will see touch-up done, the rest of the windows washed and the screens

clipped back in place.

One more refurbishing task checked off the list.

With help!

A Study in Black and White [with shades of grey]

Bobby McGee has hopped into the pressure canner which sits on the kitchen floor after processing green beans for Gina.

The 'boys' were not meant to become house kittens--clearly they had their own intentions.

Little Edward passes a cloudy afternoon on the piano.

The stump of the redbud tree near the carport is a favorite people-watching spot for Little Edward.

                               Don't let the closed eyes fool you--Willis doesn't miss a thing!

Bincoculars in reach, just in case we need to survey the landscape.

Mild, With Passing Clouds [Tuesday]

Preparing a hearty 'farmer's breakfast' and tending to some desultory chores took up the

 hours of Tuesday forenoon.

I rode in the red truck with J. on errands in town, staying in the cab with a book for company as he made several stops.

I remembered late in the afternoon that I should check the rows of green beans in the upper garden, and found there were enough ready for picking.

Grey clouds billowed overhead with the look of rain, but only a few random drops struck my face.

The kittens and Willis kept me company, barreling through the bean plants, batting at the leaves of kale, popping out [Boo!] at each other from behind the cabbages.

I dumped the bowl of green beans on the counter by the kitchen sink and went back out into the mild, restless air.

You can see the bean rows just beyond the garden fence in the photo above. You can also spot the horse watering trough nearby.  The kittens were so involved in their chase that Nellie leaped up, perhaps thinking the trough was a table.  Splash--in and quickly out-- shaking water from tail and legs as he continued after his brother.

Rosa 'Wise Portia' is boasting a brace or two of fresh bloom, unmolested by Japanese Beetles

who ravaged the flowers of summertime.

The never seen owner of the next little farm rents the land for cattle pasture and the barn to a local tobacco grower.  Tractors and pickups trundle along the road pulling wagons piled high with tobacco to be hung on 'sticks' to dry.

Bobby McGee and Nellie [nearly dry now] pounce on a grasshopper while Willis looks on with the disdain of maturity.

I don't attempt to rescue the grasshoppers, although I don't like my cats to eat them.

[All those crackly legs and crunchy bits--aaarghh!]

Usually the insects manage to bounce away.

Little Edward has joined his brothers in the bug chase.

The hydrangea bushes were so badly burned by the mid-April frost that I cut them back sharply.

Their summer bloom was blasted by heat and drought and they now are putting out flower heads--slightly mis-shapen and with these strange streaks of red.

Trumpet vine pods.

The pink hibiscus at the side of the garage has likewise sported late bloom.

This stem of buds seems frozen in time.

Remnants of rotten string along the back wall of the garage indicate that the first morning glories were deliberately planted there years ago.

They have since scrambled out of bounds.  No matter how many vines I yank up, there is never a shortage of climbers. Here they clamber around a metal fence post left at the corner of the lean-to shed.

A garden spider [argiope aurantia] has left her sac of eggs woven into the morning glory vine with a web of sticky thread.

The coleus in the planter at the end of the carport is in its final glory,

a blaze of color on a gloomy afternoon.

The title for this post is a phrase which caught my eye as part of a header in the weather section on

Google News page.

Dealing With the Harvest

Yesterday's pear harvest--in part--contained.

I'm postponing feeling virtuous about this labor.

At the moment I am over-tired and on the verge of being cranky.

[And, there is another box of pears sitting on the living room floor in front of my rocking chair.]

The official equinox has passed, yet I always mark October 1st as my personal beginning of autumn.

We woke to rain--soft, but enough to get my jeans and sweatshirt unpleasantly damp when I made my trek to the litter box dump and on to the barn where Pebbles was demanding grain.

I stripped off the soggy clothes and gave them 15 minutes in the dryer while I huddled in a fleece robe and set the coffee pot to its business.

The lower garden has gone shabby, the sunflowers canted off at tired angles.

The upper perennial strip needs weeding and sorting--again--so much for the long hours of spring weeding and the many bags of mulch meant to deter grass and weeds.

They flourished in spite of the heat and drought which stunted some of our garden crops.

Taken from the relatively dry spot by the car port--a backyard maple turning bronze and gold.

We have several varieties of maple in the yard, most of them transplanted from nearby woods 30 years ago by Haskell Rogers.

Rain and mist as seen from front porch.

Nandina shrubs that edge the front of the house.

The three boy kittens loyally trailed behind on my chores, their legs, tummies and tails soaked from

the wet grass.

Nellie came in and spent the next hour trying out cozy spots: above my old bathrobe which I shed when my jeans had dried.

Gina's lap and her folded wooly shirt became a pleasant haven.

No shyness here--he has taken over the cat basket!

Mima [on the pillow] and my dear old Eggnog curled up on the bed.

On the front porch Little Edward [left] and Bobby McGee tuck up on an old throw.

Meanwhile--more PEARS!