Evelyn's story

My friend Evelyn is weaving the most beautiful baby blanket for her soon-to-be grandbaby. She wanted a story to go with the pictures of her weaving process.

Here is the story I wrote for her. I will post a picture of the blanket soon.

Evelyn's Woven Rainbow

Once, there was a Grandmama who had already fallen in love with a wee little person she hadn't even met yet!

So, she decided that since the leprechauns always left gold at the foot a rainbow that she would weave a rainbow for her soon-to-be grandbaby in hopes that a pot of gold might be left.

She plotted and planned and finally decided the best way to capture the rainbow -- she would weave it!

Grandmama measured and looked at her loom, Barbara. Then, she measured and looked at her fiber. She knew that this new rainbow would have to be very special for her to fool the leprechauns into leaving her a pot of gold for her grandbaby.

Finally, she decided. The rainbow would be different from all the other sky rainbows. It would be soft blues, gentle pinks, mint greens, twilight lavendars and sunshine yellows. Surely, she thought, the leprechauns would be fooled into leaving her gold!

Carefully, she wound off the warp. She counted each wrap carefully because she knew it had to be perfect! If it weren't, the leprechauns might discover her trick!

Next, she began to thread Barbara the loom, carefully arranging the colors so that they would lay next to each other, just as the sky rainbow.

In and through she threaded. As she worked, she hummed a little song to herself. She was so pleased as the colors were threaded onto her special loom. The work went quickly as Barbara was as excited as Grandmama to see the rainbow stretched between her harnesses and beams!

Almost by magic, Barbara the loom was dressed and ready for Grandmama to begin to weave.
Taking a deep breath, Grandmama selected the first color for her weft. It was a lovely pink!

"This is perfect!" she thought to herself. With shaking hands, Grandmama wound her shuttle and sat down the weaving bench.

"Okay, Barbara, let's make something lovely!" she whispered.

Grandmama threw the shuttle. It skimmed the warp and shot out the left side. Grandmama caught it and then beat the first thread of her magic blanket.

Quickly, she began to work. Back and forth went the shuttle.

Thump, thump, thump went the beater bar. Grandmama began to hum her special song again. She imagined the pot of gold and the beautiful baby she already loved wrapped tightly in the rainbow blanket.

As if by magic, a second rainbow, this time from side-to-side appeared. Grandmama was certain that the leprechauns would be so delighted with her blanket that they would leave a pot of gold.
Soft blues, gentle pinks, mint greens, twilight lavendars and sunshine yellows filled the warp. Grandmama paused to admire her work!

"Whew!" she whistled. "This is the most beautiful thing I have ever woven! Surely there are fairies working their magic, too!"

She laughed as she thought about the fairies helping her fool the leprechauns! And she laughed again when she thought of the pot of gold she would have for her grandbaby.

Back and forth she wove. Barbara's heddles seemed to sing Grandmama advanced the warp and wove. Before she knew it, Grandmama was to the end of her warp and it was time to take the blanket off Barbara.

Eagerly she advanced the warp so that she could cut the blanket from the loom. Her scissors shook as she clipped. She could not wait to see her rainbow!

She carefully stitched the ends and tied love knots for the fringe on either end. Each love knot was a kiss for her soon-to-be grandbaby.

"Perfect!" she declared as she smoothed the blanket with her hands. "This has to be the most perfect blanket ever made!"

She kissed the edge of the blanket so that the first time her grandbaby was wrapped in it, she would feel Grandmama's love. Then, she wrapped it all in white tissue paper, placed it in a strong box with a sprig of lavendar and addressed it to her granddaughter. She couldn't wait for the baby to see her rainbow! And, she couldn't wait to see if the leprechauns would leave their pot of gold.

Days came and went. Finally the call came that Grandmama had waited so patiently for. Her grandbaby was finally here!

Grandmama was so excited! But she had an important question.

"Did you use the blanket yet?" she asked.

"Grandmama," her granddaughter whispered. "You won't believe it; when I wrapped the baby in the blanket, she giggled as if she were being kissed."

Grandmama smiled. "And?"

"And, well, you won't laugh, will you?"

"No; I won't."

"A pot of gold wouldn't have made me happier. She is the most perfect baby in the world," her granddaughter chuckled.

Grandmama laughed. The leprechauns hadn't disappointed her! The pot of gold was not gold at all. It was a small baby wrapped in a rainbow all her own!


Do you think the grandbaby will like the story??

If it's Thursday, Lucy's in charge...

When I bought the goat herd last summer, little did I know what life would be like.... I have learned about worms, parasites, birthin' goats, hay, feed, and about thirty things to do with goat's milk, except drink it. What a vegetarian is doing with a goat is beyond all understanding. I like the way the goats smell -- even the bucks. I like their whiney. I love their sense of humor. And I particularly enjoy the fact that a buck will wee-wee on your feet if you make them mad. I enjoy that, sadly. Especially when the victim is a traveling ---- fill-in the blank that I would prefer not to spend my time with. And, we won't discuss what I am doing with chickens.... Let's save that for another day.

So, here I am, with three milking does and two doelings. And five kids. And four pygmies. And three bucks. And one wether. How I went from five goats to this large herd is beyond me. Our vet tried to explain to me that boy plus girl of anything means more little boys or girls of anything, but I already knew this. What I didn't know was how what seemed impossible, wasn't, at least to goats.

Never was this more evident to me than when our pygmies gave, surprise!, birth to twins from, wait for it, an Alpine buck. Twice their size. Three times their weight. And we didn't even know it until we had babies. It just seemed impossible. However, there they were. Four kids. All from Maestro, a very large, very, er, plain, Alpine buck. When we realized who the kids' daddy was (that was a terrible line, wasn't it??), I asked the vet how it could happen.

She tried to explain: "You have a BOY goat, right? And you have a GIRL goat, right? Well..."

I stopped her: "I understand that, but he is like three feet taller than either of the girls. I don't get it. Did they ...??" I just couldn't fathom it.

She sighed. "They laid down and..."

I ran from the stall, yelling, "pink elephants!pink elephants!pink elephants!"

So, it comes as no surprise to me that the gals seem to take days to be in charge of the herd. Today was Lucy's day. I just love Lucy. She is a very blonde Alpine with little dangly bits that make me think of Hasidic Jews. It is such a kick to pull on them and her beard. She seems, actually, to like it. She is the only gal currently being milked, so she is quite eager to be the first in the feed line. In reality, she has to be last so the milk doesn't sit too long. But this doesn't deter her. She spent the day following the shade around the side and back of the barn and milking parlor. As the sun moved, Lucy moved. Finally, she stood up and began to call me.

"Bah," she lowed softly.

"In a bit; not time," I responded.

She chewed her cud a bit -- all of five minutes.

"BAh!" she called a little louder.

"In a little bit; it is too early," I protested.

She walked around to the hay rack, pulled some down, and chewed another five minutes.

"BAH!" she bellowed.

"It is only 4:30. You can wait!" I answered roughly.

She chewed her cud and stomped her feet.

"Too early," I argued again.

She stomped, bah-ed again softly, probably calling me rude names, and laid back down, chewing her cud.

Five minutes later, "BAHHHH!"

I sighed. "Okay; be right there."

My son laughed. "You shouldn't have put the clock out there; they can tell time."

I giggled. "Only Lucy."

I picked up the milking bucket and headed to the barn. Can't keep Lucy waiting.

And it is just Wednesday....

This has been a rough week; the long and short of it is that I have torn the exhaust system out of my car while trying to do a good deed. It can't be fixed until tomorrow. That would be fine, as I could use Don's Jeep, but, even after putting a new battery in it, the blasted thing won't start. So, I could drive my truck, but John is using it to go to work and back. This leaves a goat, but they aren't having any part of it and have convinced the cow that no good deed goes unpunished (I think they heard about the car).

Add to this that I fell in the goat yard yesterday with a bale of hay. It was wet and my feet slipped out from under me and, before I knew it, I was on the ground with feet, arms, and hay in various contortions. So today I look as if I were smacked around and I feel a little like it, too. Of course, Amos is taking credit for it and telling the other goats that "this is what happens when the woman starts talking cart pulling." What a bully.

Does this make you feel happy that you aren't having my kind of week?

Living Lean

After my two weeks in Concord for the NEH Workshop focused on American Transcendentalism, I have returned home with the desire to simplify my life. There are tons of books, articles, and how-to guides on simplification, but in looking at these, it seems to me that there is one thing missing. The reason why one would want to simplify and what one would hope to accomplish in that process.

This is the question I have pondered for the past few weeks. What is simplification and what are the benefits of such?

And this is what I have decided: for me simplification means having more time to do the things I really want to do. The enaction of this will be the challenge.

One element of this is to use everything I have rather than adding more.

And so, I am issuing myself a challenge: use what I have, wear it out or use it up! Nothing new in the house for one year, unless it is necessary for health, safety, or to replace what is worn out. This means:

Eat everything in the freezer and canned goods;
Use all the seeds I have for my gardens;
Wear all the clothes I have;
Knit or weave all the yarn stockpiled;
Quilt the fabrics stacked up;
Read the books in "holding";
And, complete all the projects started.

Hopefully, posting this will keep me honest and focused. How about I report the progress as I go along? Will you join me??

Baby bees

It takes so much planning to feed baby bees; one has to first boil water and then add the appropriate amount of sugar. The syrup is then set aside for several hours, depending on the amount made, and then carefully poured into quart jars and fitted with feeder lids. These lids have pin size holes that allow the syrup to fill the hive feeder very slowly as the bees 'drink' the mixture. Then, after the quart jars are filled, they are inverted into the hive feeder and set very carefully on the front of the hive. If you hold your mouth just right, the wind isn't blowing, and the front of the hive is sticky enough from previous feedings, the feeder will stay put the first try. If not, you have to jump very quickly beneath the bees' flight path, scoop up the feeder and try again. Of course, in the process of doing this, there is always some syrup that gets on your hand, making it very interesting when you go near the hive with the feeder the next time. Bees are indiscriminate about the source of their syrup. Hands. Feeders. Arms. It is all the same to them!

So, why feed bees? Feeding the bees makes it easier for them to pull comb and then jump right into making honey. They are spared the labor of seeking pollen and nectar (these are very different to the bees -- one is for later and the other for honey now) and can get right to the business of making enough comb in which to store their honey. Having food right at hand keeps them from spending needless hours and days searching and working. Thus, the comb is pulled quicker, their food is made sooner and then our honey is made. It takes about 90 pounds of honey for a hive to survive the winter. And, believe me, we make sure they have their food first and then we take what is left. So, feeding the bees is just a selfish way of making sure we have honey come September.

Sounds easy, doesn't it?

This week it has been a challenge because of two things: rain and my bee allergy.

The rain has poured until I have caught the cats and dogs on the porch, two-by-two, waiting for a lift. And when it hasn't been raining, it has been blistering hot and sunny. The girls love sunshine and any temperature above 50-degrees. They flit in and out of the hive at nearly super-sonic speed in order to make the best possible use of their time in the sun. To get near the hive during this time is to have a death wish. Therefore, it is nearly impossible to find a time, other than right at dusk, to feed the girls because of this. And this is the time we usually have rain.

And, did I mention that I am very allergic to bees? Isn't that ironic? Yet, nine out of ten times, I feed them. Just walk right up to the hive and put the feeders on. No bee suit. No smoker. Nothing. I am reminded of the scene in "Fried Green Tomatoes" about the bee charmer. I'd like to think I am one, but I realize that is unlikely! More like than not, I am just very lucky. So far.
Trust me, I am not anxious to push that luck by trying to feed during the sunny part of the day!

So, here I am. There are eight quarts of feed to go on the hives. There are two gallons of syrup cooling in Don's grandmother's Revere ware pot (it is heavy and so lovely!). And the sun is shining.

Anyone feel lucky?

Cleaning, organizing and getting space

Nothing will inspire one to clean more than having an adult child return home after living away for nearly eight years.

My son will leave for the Air Force this fall and has come home to visit for a while until then. Thus, we have moved all his things back here for storage until he is properly settled elsewhere. In getting him space, I have learned to get rid of things and free space.

Have you ever thought about how much we have that we don't use or won't use? Yeppers; I know, we all think that, don't we? However, this morning while cleaning out a storage building, I discovered that I have really hit the all time high of too much stuff.

So, here is my challenge.

How much of this stuff can I clear out or use in the next year? Let's face it. The building is only the beginning of what all I have stashed around, including the, gulp, 150 skeins of yarn and the 75 wafers of weaving cotton. So, my goal is to use all I have stashed up before starting again. I will post weekly how I have done and use this as a measure of my successes.

Here's to less stuff in one year.

Life is a jar of cherry jam

There is nothing in the world as wonderful as the smell of cherries as they become jam. Mother called last night to tell me she had a gallon of sour cherries from her tree. I was in a foul mood and really didn't want to deal with them, but after all, she had picked them so I felt I should use them.

So off I went this morning very early to get them and get back home before midmorning. The cherries sat on the kitchen counter all morning and afternoon as it was so hot I couldn't think of standing at the stove and working on them. However, after a sharp storm, complete with power failure, I decided to make my jam.

I set up the pitter and got to work. There is no finer kitchen tool than a cherry pitter. I swear, if I knew who invented it, I would get in my car, drive to their house, and kiss them full on the mouth. In no time, I had the four cups of chopped cherries and four and a half cups of sugar ready.

As the cherries began to boil, I dumped the sugar in. Heaven. Pure heaven. Within ten minutes, three and one-half pints of cherry jam was cooling; sourdough bread was in the toaster; and my mouth was watering. In 20 minutes, it was all over but the dishes.

Heaven.