I worked with oil paints today in regard to a craft project. Whew! I forgot how strong paint fumes can be. I need to get this done while I can be out in the garage porch. It was perfect conditions today with breezes and the humidity dropping by the hour. God bless good screens for the patio doors. Those biting bugs could look but they couldn’t touch.
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Noreen
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Noreen
Night, Night – Sleep Tight
In 1992 My mom Lena embroidered a set of pillow cases for me. It was one of her favorite patterns to embroider. At that time I crocheted the edging and today was the day when the two came together. Finding treasurers is awesome . . . finishing them is priceless. In times past these wonderful bed linens were usual and customary when the head was laid on the pillow. In times past needlework was customary. On Stauffer Avenue it’s making a comeback.
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Noreen
Priceless Treasures – Part 2
I am at the point in the sewing and craft area that I have a mental plan as to the projects I want to tackle with the supplies I have on hand during the cooler temps of winter. If these darn mosquitoes don’t knock it off I may be driven to those projects sooner than later. With all the dusting and sorting that has taken place it will feel like an entirely new room. It’s in the same rationale as driving a newly cleaned and polished car makes the ride seem smoother.
Today a brick wall was hit. While work on supplies at hand was completed it was pretty much black and white. Either it needed to live another day in my stashes or it was put in the waste bin. Purposely I had left one of the larger totes to the last. That tote contained items that have been completed by my Mom, my mother-in-law Esther Schafer, and my paternal grandmother Laura Wendlandt. Without question it all remains worthy of being cherished during my days and on into perpetuity. These items represent who we are in today’s world. Each stitch within these embroidered, crocheted, or quilted items represents the strength of the women in my past. Do I need to have something tangible to continue to relate to my heritage? Most likely not. I just marvel at the creativity that is most certainly going to be lost due to the fast pace of living. Taking time for one-of-a-kind pieces of art and history is on the decline. I enjoyed labeling the items as I found suitable storage.
As I posted in the past, I am working my way through yarns and threads to the best of my ability. Will they be revered as I revere the items that I worked with today? That’s not for me to be concerned with. I do not press my crafts to impress anyone, but only for my own personal enjoyment and the challenge they bring.
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Noreen
Priceless Treasures – Part 1
I am now in the portion of my basement sewing area that I pull from on a regular basis for my projects. The next best thing to having a grocery pantry is a stash of sewing and handwork supplies that are just a set of stairs away.
Many individuals have added to my stashes. For some, the craft project that looked like it would be a shoe in once the supplies were purchased realized that the investment of time and energy just wasn’t their cup of tea. Have I ever turned down items that have been brought to me by disillusioned consumers? No. The memory of limited resources in my childhood have made a permanent impression in the gray matter located between my ears.
Before I was even a teen my Mom introduced me to the wonderful world of darning socks. She would hand me the wooden potato masher to assist in stripping the socks with holes in the heels. The hole was positioned over the flat portion of the masher and the mending of the socks proceeded. There was no option of throwing socks away with holes that had rubbed in their heels well after the cushion within the shoe was worn away. Even Kevin was the proud owner of hand-mended socks at a time when he stayed with his Grandma Lena in the mid 1980s. There is something in the “need for thrift” that remains during times when it may not have to be adhered to as stringently.
I know I have more paper for various types of use, including correspondence, than I need. I know, who writes letters anymore? To me the stash of paper goods represents to me that I have choices when a need arises. As a child the red covered wide lined tablet with the Indian on the front was only for things that were required for school. At home when Calvin, Michael and I wanted to draw pictures or keep score in a card game, our choice was an array of scraps of wallpaper that Mom had saved. It could have been from a wallpapering project in our home or perhaps from a project my Mom helped with at one of my aunts. Regardless of the print on one side the back was ours to use and enjoy. I was a World War II baby and resources were measured very carefully.
It’s hard to share this treasure as needlework and thread crocheting is not done by many. I have been crocheting out of this bin since the early 70s when my mother-in-law Esther Schafer no longer needed them. It’s hard to make a dent in it as it represents a lot of lineal feet.
So . . . there am I.
When I have choices in the items I can use to create projects I do not have to first visit a retail store. I cherish that. When the idea for the next creative project hits, I shop my stashes to make it work. Needless to say the value of some items in my stashes are out of this economical world.It’s also very rewarding to share what I have with those that may be in need. My children consider my basement sewing and craft area as a “one stop shopping area.” If I have it, anyone can leave with the wares in hand and . . . I have also been known to deliver. Today was just such a day. I had extra and someone remembered that I had offered it via a visit. It made my heart sing to see the new owner of what I had to share leave the premises. The new owner wore a smile that made it feel as if it was a million dollar sale. My Dad advocated that giving and sharing is done not until it hurts but it until it feels good.
In life, please give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.
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Noreen
Lost in My Basement – Day 2
In going through some sewing items of my mother-in-law Esther Schafer, I feel compelled to store this silk floss a bit longer. Note the November 1946 date of this Lutheran Standard that the floss was wrapped in.
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Noreen
Nothing Like Getting Lost . . .
. . . in my own home. More specific, in my basement. I went down to shop for an item from our pantry in the basement. It’s just the handiest to have extra supplies on hand rather than having to make a trip to the grocery store for an item or two. The pantry used to be the cistern that held a supply of water from a well that was on the property. Dennis and his cousin, Bruce, via a jack hammer, created this nook than has become our pantry that could very well feed an entire family if need be.
With the pantry item in hand I stopped to put a few sewing items away that were laying on the table. Our 4-H gal’s project that we had been working on for the last month was finished and the tidying up had not as yet happened. I will add that last night at the 4-H style review her project took several well-deserved ribbons and awards as well as Reserved Grand Champion. Minnesota State Fair here she comes. Smiles all around.
As I put the sewing items away I noticed a thick folder that held some of my Mom’s quilt patterns. I pulled it off of the shelf and sat down at my sewing table. Here were her hand drawn patterns along with the fabric samples. I looked. I touched. I wiped a tear. My Mom. My hero. So much of my adult life’s skills are from her tutelage. The entire time a sewing project was under way with Mom, came the lessons of managing to have more than one iron in the fire, whether it was keeping tabs on something in the oven or dashing out to the clothes line when a rain shower popped up. There was never a sewing challenge that left Mom stumped. Patterns were cut out of sheets of the Hutchinson Leader newspaper if an alteration was needed. Her fingers that had become thick with arthritis could wheel those little stickpins just as if they were an extension of her own fingers. Priceless. Reluctantly I put the folder back in good order. I liked the feeling of calm I had from that folder and it just seemed the natural thing to wander further into my stashes of patterns and fabrics. Remembering the quilts that had left a few odds and ends of fabrics from each of the projects. The end result: I need to work up a scrappy happy quilt to use up the wonderful colorful bits of fabric that were left from the larger projects. Mom would agree.
It was a good thing Dennis was on the ball and decided to start the grill as supper time was right around the corner. I had spent the entire afternoon lost in my wonderful world of scraps, threads and more memories than I had expected. After I had come up from the basement to put the finishing touches on the supper table, I very well had to go back down to the basement for that pantry item that started all of this. All of this? It brought about the peace that passes all understanding.
In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.
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Noreen
A Great Time of Year
The perennial lilies and the annual begonias make for a great color show. Just as the abundant rain allowed for this color show, it has also allowed for a lot of biting bugs to hatch. A quick look around the gardens for a photo op and then it’s heading for shelter from the bugs.
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Noreen
While making a batch of potato salad this afternoon – it took me back to a time as a child when we often had relatives pop in for an unannounced visit on a Sunday afternoon. It wouldn’t take Mom long and she had one kettle boiling eggs, another kettle boiling potatoes with the skins on and an onion ready to dice up. Out of the freezer a ring of homemade bologna was gotten out. Potato salad, ring bologna, pickles and cake made a perfect quick meal. No one ever left our farm home with an empty stomach. Sunday company never stayed late as everyone had a dairy herd that would need tending in the late afternoon. Good memories . . . good times.
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Noreen
I heard the coffee pot go off this morning at seven, and right after that I realized that hubby Dennis was getting dressed. What happened to having coffee in P.J. pants out in the porch? I knew what the morning would hold. Sure enough. By 10:30 the acre had been mowed and both my push mower and Dennis’ rider were in need of being gassed up for next week’s mowing. Gotta bless that man’s heart for enjoying a yard that looks tidy.
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Noreen
Fleeting Thoughts:
Comes the Dawn
After awhile you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that no matter what kind of love, love doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain.
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure . . .
That you are really strong,
And you really have worth
And you learn and learn with every day you learn.
Author Unknown
