Victorianesque Embroideries

Here is a cute little (17 in long) victorian shoe piece I did. You can't see it very well, but it is complete with gold filliment and beads.
I paid to have it mounted, but not framed yet, as it will be a custom job. It goes very well with the next piece.....

This was a pain in the neck to complete! You can't see it in this photo, but it is done in about six shades of scarlett - all about a shade apart. So keeping the floss straight, and figuring out the color graph was a job! I actually mounted this one myself, and framed it.

This is a piece I did all from vintage fabric remnants. I pinned a piece of netting to a piece of unbleached musiln, and free-handed the letters; then I embroidered them. To finish, I appliqued the lace remnant and floral motif onto the piece. The quote is by John Keatts; and it is a sort of motto for me. I did several verions of this, but this is my favorite.

Memorial Day Weekend

My Family and I spent a lot of time at our pond this weekend, hanging out, grilling, and fishing. The weekend started on Friday with the cutting of hayfields, and my brother, Noah, and his family coming up form Charlotte with a couple guests wanting to experience the counrty life. Saturday, I took myself off to a Mary Kay Facial party where I had my face and hair done, a photo taken, and ate some cheesecake before trotting off to the barn where I rode for a little while. On my way home, I drove by one of my brother's hayfields and saw half of the family out there picking up hay - nobody told me! We picked up almost 400 bales of hay and it took up until dark; when we quit and ate pizza at my house.

Sunday, we unloaded hay into our barn amidst a rainshower. Some how, I got a miserable sunburn on Saturday, despite the overcast skies. We all hit the back pond for a little fishing and tailgating. The kids loved fishing, and were pulling them out of the water one after the other. Abi got a fishing lesson from Uncle Kevin. Eli and Sherry grilled the steaks and hamburgers; and we made a small campfire for toasting some marshmellows before everyone headed home. Noah and his friends camped out in the cabin he built at Mom and Dad's farm.

On Monday, all the guys came over to plant a cornfield and do some other field work. Noah and I cooked breakfast for them: one and a half dozen eggs, two pounds of bacon, home made buttermilk biscuits, with sweet butter and marmalade, and coffee in a mason jar. I packed it all in a picnic basket and Noah carried it back - where they consumed every morsel. After the field work was done, they decided to stay back at the pond and do some skeet shooting; while I sat on the porch with my sisters-in-law and the kids and chatted.

Everyone was at my house for dinner, after which we hit the pond for more fishing. I didn't fish, I took pictures and dug up worms for the kids. It was a long, and totally fun weekend. Kevin and I agreed, it was super fun; more so than Christmas! This was a weekend that will go down for the record, as the most awsome Memorial Day weekend ever. I highly reccomend weekends like this; they are good for the heart - even with the greasy hot dogs, sausages, ptoato salad, baked beans, cole slaw, and potato chips.

Country Kids

Equipped with insect nets and a carrying cage, Ethan, Alana, Lexy and Brendan venture into the meadow, led by Uncle Eli, to gather bugs for fishing bait.











Ethan and Alana make sure the bugs aren't escaping.


















Later, at our pond, Ethan catches a small bass - which he threw back so it could grow some more.....
......... and Alana catches a sun fish!
Nothing "city" about my nieces and nephews at all! They're country through and through. Bugs and fish alike, be afraid - be very afraid.

The Chair Story

So, what makes this photo of a frumpy chair worthy of a post, you might ask? A really good laugh, that's what!
So part of my weekend included going to the dumpster to unload some trash and junk collected in my truck. Upon arriving at the dumpster, I discovered this old, red velvet covered chair in the extreme bottom of the "green box." Well you know me, saving the world one vintage/antique piece at a time; I sat there, trying to figure out a way to get it out by my onesie. The sides of the "green box" are a good seven or eight feet tall, well over my head, and slick metal. It is the big kind they bring in on a tractor trailer and leave until it is full, then cart it away to the landfill.
I looked around.
Nobody in sight.
I thought about going home and fetching Kevin back to help me. But then I knew what he'd say - "Why do you have to have that piece of junk? Here's the checkbook - go buy one from somewhere else, in better shape....."
I could climb down there, throw it out, and pile up some other junk to get out. But I was wearing flip flops - not good for climbing.
A search of my truck revealed a shovel from the barn with a handle on it. I could maneuver myself down far enough to catch the leg of the chair, and hoist it up........
So grasping the shovel in one hand, and bracing myself against the rim of the green box with one knee, I balanced on the edge with one leg flung behind for balance, and eased myself halfway down the slick wall of the dumpster, reaching my shovel handle out for the chair leg. At some point, these fleeting thoughts raced through my brain:
"Maybe I should have put my cell phone in my pocket in case I fall in here and need to call for a rescue."
"What if I fall in here and get hurt - is this stupid chair worth it?"
"How long will it take for them to miss me, and will they know to come looking in the dumpster?"
And, of course, "What must I look like, perching here on the edge of the dumpster with my butt in the wind?" (Vain, I know.)
A couple of tries, and I had it by the leg. I hoisted it up just enough that I could snatch it with my free hand and haul it over the side, into the truck.
Gloating over my prize, and laughing at the thought of what that must have looked like to a passer-by, I went home.
There was Kevin, with my brother, Eli, in the driveway, working on a piece of farm machinery. Kevin glanced at the frumpy, desheveled chair in the truck and glanced at me. Laughing, I told them the story. "That's the last time you go to the dumpster by yourself," Kevin said. If the worst had happened, I can just see him, telling his buddies at work, "Yeah.... I had to rescue my wife from the bottom of the dumpster this weekend, after she was missing for hours, and we looked all over creation for her, and the State Police were called.....all on account of a worthless, broken, vintage chair."
"That is just like Mom," Eli said. "When we lived in Miami, Mom got stuff from the dumpster all the time." I remember Mom regailing me with stories of her dumpster tresures fromMiami. I think she still has some of the stuff.
Anyway, I don't know what I am going to do with the old thing; it was in worse shape than I thought at first. The seat is stuffed with horse hair, so it is pretty old. Maybe I'll paint the wood after it is repaired, and upholster it with something else..... butI'll be darned if I throw it out, after all the trouble I went through to get it!

I'm a Chicken Mother

I will be gathering that many eggs in a few months! (I hope.) That is the cover of a 1948 magazine I found in a box buried in one of our barns upon moving here. It is in perfect condition, whereas other magazines in the same box are damaged. How about that?

We put pebbles in their "drinker" so they won't emmerse their whole head and drown; as chicks sometimes do. Here in the US, it is called a chick "waterer", but I was watching some videos on You Tube of baby chickens, and a Scottish lady called it a chick "drinker" so I thought that was appropriate. One "waters" the garden, the houseplants, or the lawn; To "water" the chicks would imply to some that you take the hose and douse the chicks with water; when in fact they drink of their own free will........ so calling it a drinker makes sense. :)

We tried to start them off eating from a chick feerer with a lid; they didn't quite get that, and only ate when I sprinked the feed out onto the paper so they could peck at it. So I transfered their feed to a small open dish and they loved that, and learned to eat from it right away. And sleep in it. And poop in it. And play in it. One night, one of the yellow chicks cought a small moth that was fluttering around the light in the brooder, and went parading around with it. The others wanted in on the kill, and started a commotion that sent me running to check on them. I though at least one of the cats was threatening them, but instead discovered the moth fight. I was puffed up with pride over my day-old chicks already doing a great job of eating free-range! I only hope that most of them are hens, so I can keep them, and a few lucky roosters. The surplus roosters will be made into chicken and dumplings....... such is the fate of unlucky, annoying roosters on farms. Yum..... chicken and dumplings are delicious, though. Wait a second..... what am I saying?! :)

Baby Chicks!

I never really understood why people call them "baby chicks"; that's an oxymoron. "Chicks" are, in fact, infant chickens. So, a few weeks ago we got some fertile chicken eggs from a friend, and popped them into the incubator. Thereafter, for 21 days, I faithfully turned them morning and night by hand. They were supposed to hatch out on a Tuesday - and nothing happened. I was extremely dissapointed.

Then, on that Thursday morning, Kevin called me into the kithcen. There was a tone of excitement in his voice, so I knew he was not wanting to know what happened to his coffee filters! I ran to the kitchen like a kid on Christmas morning. "Listen", Kevin said. I stood there listening and then I heard it: small peeps and chirps coming from the eggs in the incubator! I had a styrofoam box of chirping eggs! Sucess, after all!! After several hours, I took this photo of the frist one: the tiniest egg hatched out first.

That evening, we had more. I was thrilled, because I thought I would get none from my first try! I had never seen a chick hatch out before, and I was as facninated as a kid doing a grade school science class experament. They are soooooo cute! My kithcn is cluttered with chick accessories and supplies, and the little blighters make a noisy racket when they hear someone. The cats are seriously disturbed, and I am grateful, as they seem to avoid the area entirely.

We left them in the incubator until they fully dried out and were fluffy. The other eggs continued to shake and chirp and little holes appeared on their surface. They continued to hatch out thrugh Sunday; and there are still a couple drying out in the incubator, waiting transport to the chick brooder set up in the kitchen. They are all so cute and fluffy. I feel like a true farm girl now! I hatched chicks!

Old Fashioned Strawberry Shortcake

My Mom taught me how to make this, and her Mom taught her. This is real old-timey shortcake. They're not a sweet as sponge cake so the flavor of the berries is more detectable. They are sort of like a scone.






2 cups all purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup shortening OR
1/4 cup shortening and 3 Tbsp. cold butter
1/2 - 3/4 cups milk

Sift together dry ingredinets. Cut in shortening with a pastry blender until mixture resembles a coarse meal. Add enough milk to form a soft, not sticky, dough. Don't over-mix. Roll out to 3/4 inch thinkcness on a floured surface. Cut with a 3 inch biscuit cutter. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet. Bake 20 min. or until golden brown. To assemble: once shortcakes have cooled, slice in half. Place bottom half on a plate or bowl. Top with desired ammount of berries, and remaining half shortcake. Finish with a dollop of real sweetened whipped cream (or Coolwhip, if you like) and enjoy!
I have more great strawberry dessert recipes, so if anyone wants more, leave a comment with your email and I will email them, or I can post them also.