Home Again and Settling In

I greatly enjoyed my several days in Tennessee--in the home of a favorite niece.

We arrived there late on a Saturday afternoon, and after a few minutes to haul in our baggage and visit the restroom, we loaded into the car to be driven another hour to a special mountaintop restaurant where we were met by S.A.'s daughter and boyfriend to celebrate B.'s upcoming birthday. Taking my cue from S.A. and A. who are familiar with the menu, I ordered as one of the 'sides' 

a grilled portobella mushroom--delicious.

The weather was lovely while we were there.  Just that few hours south and east of home the leaves on the trees were barely beginning to turn to autumn hues.

Sunday brought more family to visit and lively conversations, carried out on my part as I rolled pastry for several large pies.

Monday morning on my own, after S.A. departed for the private clinic where she is a Nurse Practitioner; J. and B. headed off to yet another day of roof replacement.

I was collected at noon by A.--[S.A.'s daughter] and treated to lunch at a nearby Greek restaurant before heading to the mall.

[I've not been in a shopping mall literally in years--there was only one in the entire state of Wyoming!]

I had expressed the need to find 2 pairs of comfortable but slightly dressy shoes and A. knew exactly where to look.

She by-passed the endless displays and headed directly for the sales tables!

I am now most happily [and comfortably] in possession of shoes which wouldn't have been available to me here in the hills of Kentucky.

And what's more, G. the queen of 'what-not-to-wear' approves of my choices!

A quick tour of A.'s little house, a glass of iced tea, and a romp with her boyfriend's lolloping young Great Dane, before I was returned to the big house. 

S.A.'s routine is to disappear to her cozy sewing area as soon as supper is finished and the kitchen made immaculately tidy. 

We sat companionably with our hand-stitching projects each evening until bed time.

J. and I headed home to Kentucky on Wednesday noon, a grey day of shifting clouds and desultory drizzle.

J. takes a route which by-passes the thruway, and climbs through miles of steep wooded hills. The rusty leaves of oak and hickory patched the misty landscape, fog swirled above creek banks in the 

dips of the land.

The events, the faces, the conversations of the previous days floated and swirled through my head as the big red truck roared along the wet black pavement.

I had lost track of time before we gained an hour upon crossing the Kentucky state line and was surprised when the local Wal Mart loomed into view.

I had somehow thought the day nearly over--it was only 3 P.M. Central time!

Thursday morning was chilly and dark.  J. carried in an armload of cedar kindling and started a fire.

The house warmed and the scent of cedar mingled with the venison stew bubbling in the crockpot--the first fall meal of 'comfort food.'

The cats, who had been torn between giddy welcome and aloof disdain [how could I go off and leave them?] the night before, got in my way in the kitchen, clamoring for my attention, before settling into furry 

slumbering heaps.

Sunshine broke through on Friday and I pulled on my boots and went out, camera in hand to record the changes that took place while I was away.

Flowers, cabbages, fuzzy-headed grasses, were pearled with moisture, wet leaves shone darkly in the grass of the lawn.

Bees were slow in the cool air, but determined to glean what sweetness was available.

The pink cosmos are bent and sprawled now from the wind and weather of the long summer.

Their petals gleam like rippled satin still.

A tumble of cosmos and shaggy zinnias.

The sun rises farther to the south, shimmering through the mist that billows up from Big Creek.

The small dogwoods on the front lawn have turned to burgundy red. 

Dogwood berries.

Bobby and Nellie pouncing on sluggish insects.

The grasshoppers and crickets are still about but the summer nightly chirring of the cicadas is silent now.

This coneflower shines in the upper perennial strip.

I was surprised by its vivid color until I remembered that I had sowed a packet of 'mixed' coneflower seed in the spring.  I hope this one will be vigorous and colonize.

Another seedling coneflower, from the same seed mixture, this one pale and shimmering.

My eyes follow the whorled pattern of the center, drawn in.

 A late bloom on Hawkeye Belle--so lovely.

A blaze of zinnia glory.

View from the lower gardens across the drive and into the swell of the front dooryard with the meadow beyond stretching to the bright blue sky.

It is good to go away--to visit loved ones, to come home with fresh ideas and inspirations for new projects.

It is good to be home, to putter in my own perpetually untidy space.

I had a new quilt on my sewing table, still bundled into a plastic carrier bag as it came from the quilter.

[The quilter is closing her shop after a short struggle to make ends meet--so difficult for a 

small town business]

After J. left on Saturday evening for TN [that endless roof!] I went downstairs, sliced strips of fabric for binding [with feline assistance] and finished two sides of my big quilt.

The other two sides were done on Sunday evening--only after the beautiful golden day slid away into an evening of gold and purple quiet.

I tweaked off the inferior charity shop comforter which has lurked on the bed for the past month and spread my new quilt.

The fabrics are from a stash in rich autumn colors, mellow golds, rich deep shades of purple, red and burnt orange, some warm browns and highlights of deep apricot.

The light side of the blocks is a quiet sprigged fabric which I bought in Pinedale, WY several years before we moved--saved for something I felt was special.

Nellie was on the new quilt before I had smoothed it across the bed!

He opened a sleepy eye when I came to bed two hours later.

As I snuggled into my familiar cushiony bed, other cats landed, purring, to snuggle close.

My thoughts tumbled drowsily. I can now picture the room where J. sleeps at our niece's home--under the quilt of purple batiks, I am familiar with the big kitchen where he will drink his morning coffee this week.

I have met the two small dogs who live there, and can recall the faces of the two cats who peer in the glass front door of a morning. 

I have been enriched, inspired, expanded by going away from home.

I am content, quietly happy, to be home again, contemplating fresh projects, settling in for 

the approaching winter.

Quilts To Inspire

We were privileged to sleep under this beautiful batik quilt for several nights 

in our niece's guestroom.

Detail of a hand-appliqued  block.

S.A. works in batiks and does exquisite hand work.

Evenings spent in her quilting area are a respite from a stressful and busy career as a nurse practitioner.

Another appliqued quilt.

Detail of wreath blocks.

S.A. has done a number of small quilts in Hawaiian applique.

Center applique from the calla lily wall-hanging.

S.A. is partial to batiks in shades of purple and lavender.

A cozy quilt on one of the small sofas in the living room.

I'm pleased to report that I finished most of the appliqued center panel for a small quilt

while sitting companionably each evening with this favorite niece.

My work is not as intricate as hers, but I'm inspired!

Country Mouse

No photo today as J's camera is in the truck with him and I didn't bring mine.
J. had more work to do on his sister and BIL's roof and is staying this week with a special niece and her husband.
I invited myself along!
We've had a marvelous evening 'out'--a family dinner on Sunday, visits from another sister and her husband.
Today [drum roll!] I was collected at noon by our grand-niece [do I have the correct terminology?] taken for a delicious lunch at a Greek restaurant, and on to a Mall where I shopped for shoes.
Working on a hand appliqued quilting project in SA's spacious and well-appointed sewing area.
Daughter G. is tending our animals at home, and on the down side, elderly Siamese Eggnog is apparently having issues of forgetting where the litterbox is located. She's had several such spells over the past few months--and I fear her remaining time is short.  She was 15 years old in April. Much as I love my cats, one can only clean up messes in inappropriate places for a limited time before it becomes 'too much.'
Not much time to read blogs and comment, but will try to take photos to  post later.

October Sunshine

I spent all of yesterday in the garden.

[Not 'all', of course, but many hours.]

It is chilly first thing in the morning and the sun is at a lower slant which doesn't warm the wicker bench on the front porch.

The house felt too cool, so when the cats insisted I get out of bed, I put on an old pair of sweatpants, and layered on a top and a raggedy zip-up hoodie.

I stamped out into the sparkling dew-wet morning, booted, and bustling to keep warm.

Horse fed, cats fed, litter boxes cleaned.  I've been stuffing paper and cloth snippings into the downstairs stove all summer.  It seemed a good morning to add a few pieces of dry wood and set it all alight.

The warmth drifted up the stairwell and took away the chill inside, even as the sun warmed the air outside and dried up the dew.

I ate homemade soup for breakfast with toast from homemade bread.

[One can have unconventional meals when the husband is away!]

I took my camera out and plodded around the lower gardens.

This savoy cabbage was a-glitter with dew--the photo doesn't do it justice.

This photo pleases me--although more of a lucky shot than because of any skill in using the various 

camera settings.

Only a few hovering butterflies where even a week ago there were many.

As autumn moves along flowers, butterflies, food from the garden, become ever more precious.

The late Michaelmas daisies have sprawled out from their center, a tumble of muted purple.

Edward waits for me under the sweet gum tree.

Raisin, J.'s very elderly cat, was out of sorts when she found that her favorite porch chair is no longer

 in the sunlight.

After huffing and complaining, as only a Siamese cat can do, she settled for a spot on the rug 

by the front steps.

I decided to clear the small garden behind the clothesline.

It didn't fare well this summer as the heaviest rains cut a sharp path through, taking out the clumps of dianthus I planted in May. I located 3 of the 5 peonies, clinging to the soil for dear life.

Achillea has struggled on through wet and weeds.

I have some thoughts of moving the peonies, making do here with annuals.

This was all cleaned and weeded early in July--just in time for the rains.

I began weeding around 11 o'clock and worked until almost 5--with a short break or two.

I spent the final 45 minutes of my work day weeding in the lower flower strip--visible just below the main garden where the phlox and salvia are flourishing.

The phlox has a sweet scent.

The dianthus here has flourished and spread--I may move some of the clumps which are being a bit pushy.

So lovely!

The late roses are a bit raggedy, but cherished as the 'last roses of summer.'

As usual, by the time I quit gardening I was stiff, aching, suddenly tired enough to drop.

I staggered in for a hot shower, a mug of tea, clean clothes.

Grandson D. was waiting to go to Wal Mart with me.

I handed him the key and requested that he drive granny to the store!

I had managed that morning after 15 annoying minutes on the phone, to cancel our DISH network service!

My errand at WM was to buy a Roku streaming 'thing' so that J. can have Netflix for movies and such.

D. read the instructions, fitted wires and plugs, then I sat at J.'s desk and using his now unfamiliar to me laptop, entered the information to register the wireless device and sign on to Netflix.

A number of free 'channels' loaded as well including a sort of video game called 'Angry Birds.'

D. demonstrated to the amazement of Bobby McGee.

Somehow I can't imagine J. being intrigued by a video game.

I'm not  one for watching TV at this stage in my life, although years ago I enjoyed Public Television in the evening--specially the BBC offerings such as Mystery and Masterpiece Theater.

Should I take the notion, I can watch some of those shows, and re-acquaint myself with such favorites as All Creatures, Great and Small--perhaps Poldark is available.

I can see it now--the old couple glued to the action on-screen during a long winter's evening!

Wednesday morning, my last day home alone, still dark when the cats and I woke at a few minutes before 6.

The front yard, all mist, shimmer, sunlight and shadows at 8.

Too chilly to take my mug of coffee out to the porch.

I dressed in the heavy old jeans and scruffy pullover I wear for painting, did the usual chores while waiting for the sun to move around and shine through the trees into the carport.

I taped off the glass sections of the back door, applied green paint to match the trim on the garage.

I was about to put away the paint when I realized the only bit of dull blue still around was the shabby cupboard built into one side of the carport. 

It backs up to a decorative wall of brick and I should guess its another of Mr. Rogers' frugally constructed examples of farm carpentry.

Even on a step-stool the top edge was out of comfortable stretching reach--the resulting paint strokes aren't the best example of 'cutting in.'

We will need to make another trip to Lowes when J. is home to purchase two more sets of shutters for the back of the garage--I wonder why we didn't get them on the initial trip for supplies.

Night has settled hours ago; my rocking chair and a book beckon me to spend a few minutes before the cats and I go to bed. 

Cats, Quilts, and Somewhat Aimless Puttering

Willis the Cat is usually found keeping a close watch over his domain, in particular the dooryard. He is on top of any human comings and goings, and obviously feels that his role as an overseer and caretaker includes trekking along to the gardens or the barns.

I'm always surprised to catch him napping.

Willis has chosen a small vintage rocking chair as the place for a mid-morning nap.

Funny how a mere cat, not wishing to be disturbed into sociability, can make one feel an 

intruder on the front porch!

J. is in Tennessee helping his brother-in-law to replace the roof on their house.

[He has smugly reported that his sister's young Siamese cat chooses to sleep on his pillow!]

That leaves me keeping house on my own for 10 days, a prospect that I never find daunting.

Without the time constraints of an outside job, the hours of days and nights are my own, with few events structured by anything beyond my whims.

On Monday I decided to take out the row of sunflowers in the bottom garden.

Many of the stalks went down in a heavy, windy rain in mid-July and grass has grown in around them.

The final burst of hot and humid weather ripened most of the seed heads and the optimal time for harvesting them probably passed while we were busy painting the garage.

I found two large heads full of seeds and carefully cut them for my friend Gracie who  requested some for her winter birdfeeders.

Surprisingly, some of the dwarf varieties which had toppled yielded some solid heads of small black seeds. 

I carried out a large metal bowl and knocked the seeds into it. I learned, painfully, several years ago that shucking sunflower seeds from the heads by hand can result in sharp spurs driving into the fingertips.

I dragged stalks and empty heads to the accumulating pile of garden rubbish and on Friday, after a night of gentle rain, kindled a bonfire.

For several days each time I glanced over the perennial strips and veg strips which comprise the lower gardens, I had an instant sense of something amiss.

How quickly our eyes become accustomed to a feature of our personal landscape, even something as transitory as a row of sunflowers.

The removal of the sunflowers has left the pink cosmos as the eye-catcher in that bottom strip.

Rain is pelting down today and it will take several 'drying days' before I can harvest seeds.

Although many of the seed heads will be shattered enough blossoms have come on to ensure that I can gather seed to plant and share.

This quilt, made for daughter Gina, has been awaiting its turn for binding for several weeks.

G. chose the star setting for the Log Cabin blocks and stated her preference for the blue fabrics in the lines I've been using. I was able to order [on sale!] the coordinating fabric for the borders and cut it to take advantage of the vertical pattern repeat.

Detail of the border fabric.

I usually machine hem the binding on my quilts.

This one being special I took the time [4 hours] to turn over and hand stitch the binding to the 

back of the quilt.

I likewise hand hemmed the binding on this quilt, a light and dark setting of Log Cabin blocks.

This one took forever as I picked it up whenever I had a few minutes to spare.

The cats felt it was becoming a fixture, draped over the big basket of magazines which I keep by my 

rocking chair. 

I'm claiming this as my personal quilt and have folded it over the back of the rocking chair which belonged to my Grampa Mac. Too often I make a quilt, designating it while a work in progress as a 'utility quilt'--one that needn't be put away 'for best.' Then--after all the careful work it turns out to be quite appealing and I'm inclined to cherish it rather than enjoy it.

I delivered a king-size quilt to the local quilter on Tuesday and have pulled out a long-postponed project to work on in a rather desultory fashion. 

I'm telling myself that having invested some time in beginning, it is good discipline to finish before starting something more inspiring.

G. and I spent most of Wednesday in the neighboring larger town. We wandered through the booths at Peddlers' Mall, particularly pleased with the vintage furniture and small treasures that are offered in the nicer booths.  We poked about in the nearby Goodwill shop and then eventually did the real errand of the trip--grocery shopping.

I've stayed up blissfully late, reading, doing more genealogy searches, listening to my son on the phone [one listens to H. rather more than talking!]

There are small unchanging chores, feeding the old horse and the barn cats each morning, tending litter boxes, tidying the kitchen, selecting music for my turn as church pianist.

G. and her family pop in and out and expect the cookie jar to be replenished! 

The weather is on the turn after a warm week with the temps forecast to dive by about 20 degrees tonight.

Leaves are turning color on the ridges although most still cling to the trees.

The humming birds have departed.

I saw the last one hovering near the feeder on 26 September. One zinged past on the 30th as I was uprooting sunflowers. 

The birds who over-winter here are quiet now. Several bluebirds spent Saturday evening flying from the electric wires to the goat willow tree.

The boy-cats are such avid stalkers that I suspect many of our birds stay a bit farther from the house than before the advent of the boys.

The skies partially cleared for an hour this morning before darkness rolled in with distant booms of thunder.

Rain falls, alternating between a gentle steady spatter and bursts that more resemble a downpour.

The wind has come up, not lashing, but stirring the trees and rippling the puddles forming in the back yard. 

I'm headed downstairs to my sewing before I can convince myself that a retreat to the rocking chair and a cherished old book would be a better choice.

The cats have found places to curl up and sleep away the remainder of the afternoon.

It feels like the first real day of autumn in Kentucky.