They Were Here

Last night when we went to work the potato bed, we discovered a new treasure:

I love finding these around the farm. We have a nice collection of arrowheads, grinding stones, and spear heads. We have always been called "Potato Creek" with the designator of "Virginia side" or "North Carolina side." The aboriginal people lived here tens of thousands of years ago, as long as the New River has flowed, I am certain, and have left behind little reminders that this was once their home.

Somehow, it makes me smile when I find one of these goodies. It seems, as I hold it, I can feel the hands that made it. I can feel them sitting in the sunshine, bent over their work, planning and dreaming about how they will care for their family with their hand fashioned tools. I can hear them singing under their breath and hear the children playing in the field nearby. Wood smoke fills my nostrils and the smell of cooking fish and potatoes drifts in the air. The sky is a blue from my childhood long before the smog became so bad that we can no longer see the aurora borelas as when I was six. There is no noise beyond that of the small band living together, growing their crops, and then moving to the Piedmont where it is warmer for winter.

Then, I am whisked back to now usually by some rather large dog who still believes he is a puppy and wonders at my standing and looking at something he cannot see. I like to think of these as gifts from those people -- a way to connect our lives and to somehow demonstrate that live continues here when we go There. I wonder what the woman who lives here in another ten thousand years might think of my treasures...

I Think I Know..

Today I proctored End of Grade testing in my nephews' school. I worked with a fifth grader and a seventh grader on testing for Math. Yeppers. Me. Math.

Anyhow... there are two parts to the test -- calculator assisted and non-calculator assisted. The questions for the calculator assisted were like this:

A bell rings once a minute. How many times will it ring in one hour?

One student answered "20" and the other answered "45." I felt my eyebrows start to twitch....

The other part of the test, the non-calculator questions were thus:

You have two triangles that are similar. Which sets of lines are comparable?

Now, the student is to examine two drawings of triangles that are the same except one is larger than the other. Correct answer, obviously, is all of 'em. With BOTH kids, they picked up their pencils and started writing down numbers like crazy! To what end?? That wasn't going to tell them something they had to visually compare!

So, here's what I realized.

Public school, and no child left behind, are dismal failures. Parents are failures. Our society is a failure. In short, we are all failures. Why? Because we have forgotten how to think and, thusly, we have let our wee ones fall into the same trap.

How hard it is to talk with your child instead of leaving them with the TV? How hard it is to read a book, share a song, walk in nature, or develop a hobby (besides ball of some sort -- which I think is fine -- but there needs to be more!)?? How hard it is to let, no, encourage a child's natural curiousity lead their learning?

Holey moley. No wonder I want to weep when I get 'em in college -- they don't know an hour has 60 minutes or that by simply opening their eyes they can learn a lot.

Who's with me? Let's dump all this standardized learning and get back to basics! Remember, these are the people who will not only run the world one day, but will also select our nursing homes...

First Day Musings -- Get Your Head Out

Apple woke us at dawn screaming bloodly murder. She is a four-month-old doe whose mother, frankly, isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you know what I mean. And it seems our Apple has inherited that intellictual ability as well. Yes, I adore Apple. She is cinnamon with just the tiniest bit of white on one back hoof and on her left side. And she has this great way of tilting her head and "flying" her ears when she looks at you. She is the doe in the front in our banner, if you care to take a look. She is cute in spite of the fact that she should be on the short bus.

But, I digress.

It seems that our Miss Apple has a knack for not realizing the size of her head. And as such, she is always getting it stuck somewhere -- the fence usually. But, because she is so sweet tempered, she just sits down and screams until we come cut her out -- no fighting, pulling, or wrestling -- just calm resignation to the situation until someone comes.

As I went out in my jammies to cut her out this morning, I was thinking how her attitude could serve the two-legged variety varmint as well. How many times do we push and pull in a situation that we really have no control over at all? How many times do we spend a lot of energy grousing when really all we have to do is just sit quietly and wait?

I am reminded of the Scripture: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

Maybe that is just the lesson silly Miss Apple has taught me. That, and to keep the wire cutters handy...

To Market, to market

{imagine a picture here of all kinds of great things to eat and enjoy ---- breads, candies cookies, scones, greens, eggs, meats.... yummers. ..... }

I love Farmer's Market Day! The Wytheville Farmer's Market has such a wonderful energy and vitality that makes getting up at oh-dark-thirty quite worthwhile! If I didn't earn enough to more than pay for gas, I would still do it!

Today I had goat milk soap, lavender sachets, dishcloths, market bags, eggs, and mint-chocolate or lemon-poppy seed or orange-cranberry scones for sale. Albeit, while it doesn't seem like a lot. It was a stellar day. I mean stellar!

Our market has so many interesting things: alpaca roving, herbs, all kinds of great greens (lettuce, kale, arugula, and such) eggs, eggs, and more eggs, three kinds of soap (how wonderful is that), a wide variety of baked goods, meat such as lamb, mutton, and beef, organic charcoal (wouldn't some lamb be fabulous over that??), plants, jelly, mint tea, homemade candies, and even a wonderful pillow maker! What is so fabulous is that we help each other by recommending all kinds of connecting goods from other vendors. We didn't plan it that way; it just happens!

The best part is that we are all committed to growing as naturally as we can and to provide the best product we can. Think of it: when you shop at a grocer's, you are getting food that could have been picked more than a week ago before it was even ripe and before all the nutrients were developed. At a local market, you are getting foods that are more flavorful, much fresher (most of us pick on Friday), and certainly leaves a much smaller carbon footprint. Plus, you get to know your vendor and can even make special orders happen Just For You!

I have to admit: I didn't shop locally until we started the market business last year. I wasn't sure I'd like it. Actually, it felt too intimate for me. But, having sold at a market for a year now, I can tell you that is the best part of the relationship. We remember our customers and try to ask about things they have shared with us: grandchildren, health issues, weddings, deaths, or whatever. It is really like doing business with family!

If you don't support your local market, please give it a try. You can find out if there is one near you at this site. Yep, we're there and you will be greatly surprised by how many folks are! Won't you let me know if you visit your market and what you think of it?

As Julia Child said: Bon Appetit!

Start at the front door

One of the best things I learned in home ec a million years ago was how to clean a room or house. Start at the Front Door... or by any door...

The concept is simple, but I am amazed by how many people don't seem to know this one bit of vital information for successful cleaning.

By starting at the front door and working one's way around a room, one can clean as they go, putting up and sorting out, without having to back track. It always clears the way for one coming in and out as they continue to clean.

I have applied this to my clearing out upstairs and it has worked like a dream. While the room looks terrible right now, since it is being moved to another space, I know when I am done, it will be organized and cleared up in a few hours instead of a few days. This makes me very happy.

But, for now, I am going to apply this practice to the downstairs. While the Mister is a fabulous guy, he fails miserably at keeping house. And, after four days of not doing much of anything, I am ready to fluff up my house and cook some dinner. Smoothies have grown tiresome. And, a stitch fell out this morning so it should be okay to start some softer foods. I never thought I would tire of ice cream....

Setting Things Straight

"The Lord sends us the pieces," she observed, "but we can cut 'em out and put 'em together pretty much to suit ourselves." At first, life "looks pretty much like a jumble o' quilt pieces before they're put together; but when you get through with it, or pretty nigh through, as I am now, you'll see the use and the purpose of everything in it. Everything'll be in its right place."  -- Aunt Jane of Kentucky

Today I opened the "door of memories" in my what-you-may-call-it room -- the large English armoire that houses all my fabrics. It hasn't been opened in a long time. A very long time.

As I was sorting through the fabrics, I thought about each one and what each meant to me. I had forgotten the online quilting group I joined in the early 1990s -- yet here were two pieces of fabric with name tags  --Judy Ashe and Dorothy Burke. Instantly, I recalled their emails and our exchanges. I thought of how much fun it was each month to select a theme and colours, each making a block, and then last month's winner selecting the next winner. I was fortunate enough to win one month -- a lovely exchange featuring a block called "the garden path." These blocks had been put into an on-the-point layout and had waited patiently, through under-graduate and graduate school, death, loss, and changes I couldn't have expected, to be quilted. It shall be.

Then, I recalled Aunt Jane of Kentucky and how very much I loved her story. Through the collection of short stories, Aunt Jane imparts much wisdom about life and death; about sin and forgiveness; about hate and love. I had to look a bit to find the quote above, but it pretty much sums up how I have felt as I have waded through my what-you-may-call-it room.

A little more than 12 years ago, I was a stay at home mom, planning an early retirement, and making home comfy. I baked, gardened, quilted, knit, sewed clothing, curtains, tablecloths, planned parties, volunteered, and, in short, had the life I wanted. But, it changed in the time it takes to stop breathing and I was left with a lot of memories in that little room of mine that I didn't want to deal with. So, I replaced with newer things, newer projects, and left the others sitting alone. The memories were too hard to deal with, frankly.

However, today is a new day. I have fingered fabric that was in the process of becoming a Country Bride's quilt for our bed; I have lovingly smoothed fabric left from shorts or dresses; I have set aside three quilts waiting for finishing touches. I have sorted out fabrics traded, selected, or collected for quilts that will not be made. And, I survived.

It is time to get on with all parts of living. While I have moved on in many ways, this was the hardest thing I have dealt with -- projects, like dreams, that were unfinished. However, these projects will be finished and enjoyed and passed down. And new dreams have taken the place of the old. That is how life should be.

What To Do When You Aren't Supposed To...

Since I am under strict orders to NOT bend over or pick up anything heavy nor to get "over heated" (in this weather?? Really??), I am cleaning my what-you-want-to-call-it room -- craft, sewing, weaving, knitting, spinning, quilting... Oh, Geez. No wonder I am having problems with it.

We have a guest, a real honest-to-goodness guest, coming to stay with us a few days in July. Now, the only person who has stayed in this house in years, besides us, is the Airman. And, he completely gets the bed being in the library. However, we think no one else will.

So, we have decided to rearrange the upstairs. This isn't an easy task, frankly. When I lived in this big, old house alone, it was quite simple. Library, sewing -- et al -- room, guest room, workout room -- all were upstairs. When the Mister and I married, well, I lost a lot of rooms. He was supposed to just take a closet, but there you go, he had stuff.

The upstairs has a really fine layout of four large rooms and a huge landing along with a bathroom. So, we are taking the back two rooms and bathroom and making a guest suite. This means all my stuff has to move to the front bedroom (my favorite room in the house) which currently houses all the Mister's instruments (he plays everything except bagpipes). His music things are going to the other small room until his recording studio is done this fall.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided I needed to clear out and reorganize before I move my things. Bad idea. Really Bad Idea. I have so many unfinished projects that I am ashamed. And, I have found, to date, six pairs of embroidery scissors, two pinking shears, five pairs of fabric scissors, and three rotary cutters. We shall not speak of the buttons and rick rack.

I am determined to not spend one thin dime on anything for storage. Thus, I need your input. What is your favorite way to store items from your what-you-want-to-call-it room? What works best for certain items? Help! I am drowning in stuff!