Busy Hands Homestead

Ivory threaded the needle up and down through the button holes.  Tacking down the tulle, sandwiched between the button and a layer of sparkling felt.   I stitched the whole thing to hair clips.  There they are:  We are ready to go to celebrate a birthday!

This took me 10 months to finish... and it is all wrong - wrong yarn, wrong gauge, wrong size. I knew it was all wrong just a few rows into the project. I finished it anyway. I learned new skills. Next time I attempt this, I will splurge for nice yarn, the correct gauge and make two that are a reasonable size. Now that I know what I am doing. This one I am giving to a friend to use as a display for toys in a shop window.

"Mama! Painted trees!" I glance back at Sylvan in my rear view mirror and then back out of the windshield to try and decipher what he is telling me.  The car smells of apples. "Painted Trees! He repeats his phrase until my eyes rest on a line of small red Norway maples that line the road leading into a yet undeveloped development. Oh.  Painted trees. Yes, they are beautiful. This is the first autumn that Sylvan is really taking in.  He wades through the dunes of yellow maple leaves to pick up they few red ones and hand them to me. "Painted Leaves." Ivory begs daily, reminds me constantly: "Mama you promised that we could make Halloween decorations."   "Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow.  Before dinner. After dinner. After School. Now!!!!!!!!" I know I promised. I sigh. I feel guilty. I say things like: "We have to make food for your dad first." or "It is too late." or "later." or simply "oh, Ivor...

Our house looks pretty much like it always has. A drab white exterior, peeling paint on the windows and trim. Over a year of home ownership has passed and we are the only ones that know that things are changing ever so slowly. It is a constant balance of doing those things that need to be done and doing projects that are temporary but increase the immediate functionality of our house . While Adam had in his possession a borrowed sawzall, which he was using to cut through the old steal sewer plumbing under the house, I casually suggested that this might be the perfect time to cut away the wall of our closet. The opening into our bedroom closet was less than twenty inches and those clothes that hung in a neat row in it's confines simply stayed hanging.  It was too much of a pain to retrieve anything. The ceiling panel was a mysterious few inches lower than the rest of the ceiling and I had long decided it all had to go. The wall went, the ceiling panel went, the old layer of f...

Do I have a stopping point?  An end goal?  I can't remember any more.  Six quart jars of Amarito Pears line the back of my kitchen counter and six more are ready to go.  I am out of shelf space. The extra shelves Adam hung in our kitchen are filled to capacity.   I am stuck between projects. The things on my list are forever long. I have moments of panic when I remember some thing that I need to do and have not yet done. With only a box and a half of pears sitting in the back room, I feel that I can finally take a moment to sit down - reflect - and recall the sequence of the season that is now filling the kitchen shelves. June  6 - 1/2 pints of Rhubarb Orange Jam             I opened the first jar two days ago - It is fantastic! 3 pints of Pickled Baby Garlic July  5 - 1/2 pints Strawberry Rhubarb Jam 6 - 1/2 pints Cherry Jam with Apple as Pectin 6 - 1/2 pints Cherry Jam (with Palimosa Pectin) ...