Hanging Quilt Frame
In days gone by this quilt pattern was called Odd Fellow and the pattern used was called Double Bitted Axe. Ladies used to carry the pattern piece in their purse and when they visited they would ask to cut a few pieces from the lady’s stash of scraps, etc. The first time John’s step mother came to our house this happened to me — so I have first hand experience. In this quilt no two pieces are cut from the same fabric.
The Charm Quilt was one I had always wanted, but it took me a while to get started. Remember I told you my neighbor used to say doing a job is all in getting started. Well, little by little I cut the pieces. I’m not sure why I didn’t use the Double Bitted Axe pattern, but chose one called Casket. Hopefully you can see the shape of the little pieces in the picture.
In 1987 I went to Europe with a group of quilters and met some wonderful quilters. About 1990 two quilter friends from Holland came to the Quilt Show, held yearly, in Paducah, Kentucky and I met them there, then brought them to the Windy Knoll. What a week we had. They were in awe of the fabric stores in this country and we visited several — most of the time was spent talking about quilts. I had enough pieces cut for the Charm Quilt and this couple had just taken a course in color. This fit right in. I have a large drapery table 5′x9′ in my work room and they laid the quilt out there. After they went home I picked a row at a time up and hand pieced the little pieces together. It was a tedious job, but I’m pleased with how it turned out. When I quilted it — I just meandered, but in long rows — perhaps to look like a stream of water.
At a later show in Marietta, Georgia it won the Viewers Choice award and, of course, I was thrilled. I have not quilted in some time, but I yearn to quilt again. I’d rather quilt than piece. I have a frame hanging in my den ceiling that I can roll down and put the quilt in. At night, if needed, we can roll it back up so we can use the floor space. I’ve spent some happy hours seated by that quilt frame and, for me, it has to be one of the best parts of country living.
Whew!! Ain’t this fast time sompin’ else? Hit’ll take some gittin’ use to fer me — when I wuz a young woman, I hit the floor a-runnin’ of a mornin’, but hit ain’t that way no more. I had to be told to git up this mornin’.
Me deef as I am and I thought I heer’d sompin durin’ the night – John got up to see. Course there wadn’t nothing, but we had a time anyway. There’s a motion light in the hall and when he started back to bed he couldn’t get the lights turned off. Well, the motion light won’t go out ’til you move on. Old folks have a time!!
Years ago we used to come over here to visit John’s folks and his daddy wouldn’t never change his clock. He called this fast time and slow time. Well, as you already know, Georgie is a air ahead of Alabamer to start with and here we’d come hungry and hit’s 12:00 Georgie time and by their clock hit was 10:00. We’d nearly starve to death before dinner was ready.
I’ll have a time fer a few days a-gittin’ use to this and I haf to learn to git up!! My mother used to say hit was sorry folks what laid up in the bed when the sun wuz up a-shin’. Oh my, hit’s still country living.
Years ago (I don’t know about now) a cat would sit on the front porch (or any other surface with spaces between the boards) and get his tail hung in the crack. Well, that’s how the old saying came about “got my tail in a crack.” That’s exactly where I am today — I’ve got my tail in a crack. This is not the first time I’ve opened my mouth at the wrong time.
As you already know, we live in a rural area and I do mean rural. We have to drive 15 miles to Walmart or McDonalds. As you might imagine we have no jewelry store — we stopped in Boaz to ask if they repair clocks and we were given the name of a person in yet another town — some 30 miles away. Our beautiful clock that hangs in the kitchen is ailing — the hands won’t stay on (for one thing).
I finally got around to calling the repairman and he wants to pick up the wall clocks, as well as deliver and hang them. He wants to be sure they’re running right — he said. When I asked about the pickup and delivery charge and he said, “Oh, no I don’t charge for that.” Now if you believe that — I have some beach front property in Montana I’d like to sell you. I don’t believe the vehicle he drives runs on air. Oh well, we’ll see.
Here’s what got me in trouble. I was giving him directions on how to get here and then told him we were the second house on the left after he left the paved road. I went on to tell him it was an old house — Duh! He said, “Oh, I like old houses.” More mistake on my part, “I’m 85 years old was born in this house.” And that was all it took. “Oh, my wife loves old houses, too, and I’ll bring her with me.” Now that means I have to do some straightening up. I used to keep the house straight because we’ve had many people come by to see what the house looked like after it had been renovated — but no more. Today we live in the house and not only that, but it’s the home of old people and you see things around that you probably would not see in the home of a younger couple.
Now the jig’s up — they are to come here on Monday. I told John I thought we were going to get the clock repaired — not host a tour. So this is how it is at the Windy Knoll with this style of country living.
My Deer Repellent Rosemary
Note: This is the very first article I posted on this blog — I thought it important enough to repost. (June 2013)
At this writing we have three beautiful clusters of rosemary growing here – one in the garden , one in a flower bed next to the house and one in a pot. Some years ago I saw an ad in the Georgia Market Bulletin and the lady was selling deer-repellent rosemary— but no shipping. In recent years we have a few deer here on the mountain, but not in the yard yet. Our oldest daughter (in Georgia) is plagued with them to the point she can grow nothing so I called and ask the seller to hold rosemary for me. How I got it is another story. Our youngest daughter, who lives on the east side of Atlanta, is working on her doctorate at the University of Georgia and she drove the 30 or so miles on to Pendergrass, Georgia to get the plants. I think she got all the lady had. At a later date we met her and brought the plants home so we could root more. Now I had a nice home-rooted pot of Double File Viburnum which I gave to the daughter with deer problems. Needless to say she also got some of the new rosemary plants from Pendergrass, too. She set the rosemary beside the new Viburnum and both are still doing well. No deer nibbles. But she put another plant beside a rose and the rose bush has had a few nibbles, but at least not destroyed. The seller reminded us that not all rosemary is the same and tells a story of giving rosemary to her preacher. She didn’t give him as much as he needed so he bought rosemary from the nursery – no plants near her rosemary were eaten, but all the plants near the bought rosemary were devoured. Now we’ve rooted a number of new plants, but the new ones do not have the repellent capabilities of the older plants. This tells us we’ll have to keep the young plants in pots and let them mature before they can do the job they’re expected to do.
Needless to say, rosemary is used a lot of ways in cooking and last week I read that brushed with egg white, it makes a colorful garnish for desserts.
About the rooting bed – John’s in charge of rooting. He’s been accused of rooting broom handles, he’s good at it. The rooting bed is on the north side of the house, which tells you it’s in full shade. He uses plain cat litter or Oil Dry for the rooting medium, of course, it holds moisture well. After he takes the cuttings to be rooted, he dips them in Gold Bond Foot Powder (instead of the expensive name varieties), makes a hole in the rooting medium with a screwdriver then in goes the cutting. After that he keeps the bed watered and waits. We recommend growing rosemary, both for beauty and use.
We enjoy rooting and sharing – this is country living
This subject and how I got here is not, and has not, been funny; however, I can laugh about parts of it and I hope you can too.
The first of December some how I got a fractured bone just behind my little toe and the podiatrist put a heavy boot on me. Oh me!! Here I am already walking with a walker and have to wear that monstrosity for six weeks. I told somebody during that ordeal that I might even lose my soul over wearing that boot — after all, bad words kept appearing in my head and would find their way to the outside.
Okay, we finally got the boot off, but as you can imagine that hip and leg had a price to pay and did it hurt. Now sciatica arrives and the hurting was doubled. My family doctor (the nephew in NYC who is a cardiac surgeon) doctored the sciatica by phone. LOL! Somebody told us about a liniment to be bought at the farm store called Two Old Goats! We bought it and I would often say to John, “Rub some Old Goats on this old goat!” It helped a little – temporarily. This was a lengthy thing and it hurt so bad I fell for an ad. In one of the many catalogs we get was an ad for Sciatigon — an herbal concoction for helping sciatica and the nerves. I fell for it — now I’m better — I’m undecided who to give the credit to — Old Goats, herbs or time.
By now home health people are coming to help. I wish you could meet the therapist — he is super. He’s young enough to be my grandson, but he is the kindest, most patient and encouraging young man you would ever want to meet. We’ve been playing along with sitting exercise, but now I’ve graduated to the standing ones. Oh me! Talk about stiff and sore. I’ve had to take a pain pill in some cases and that’s not me. Anyway to end this saga, early on I was asked what my goal was and I immediately said, “To go back to my work room.” It’s not pretty — it’s in the basement which only has a floor and walls, but I love being there with all my “stuff.” A huge 5×9 drapery table, fabric, scraps, patterns, sewing machines and all the rulers, cutting boards and tools a modern-day quilter uses. I’ve spent many happy hours there, but have not been since fall and I long to go again. I’ll keep you informed. Not pleasant, but nevertheless it’s country living.
For weeks there has been a tree down across the pasture fence on the back side of the large pasture. For weeks different ones have promised to come “work it up” so the fence could be repaired. Finally this morning a man arrived for doing just that. Now there’s a big mud hole down by side the pole barn and would you believe he got stuck in that the very first thing? Poor John had (or did) to get the logging chain and get on the renter’s tractor to pull the man out. The very idea of a 89 year-old man having to do that. Needless to say, this writer is distraught — now not only did John pull the man out of the hole, but now he’s gone to the cutting site. Duh!!
The cows need to be up here as the grass is showing signs of greening up — they’ve been in the lower pasture all winter. I grew up on this farm and don’t like to see it neglected. In all my growing up years the farm had row crops, but now it’s all in pasture or hay fields– which means there’s lots of fences to be kept up. In 35 years a fence will rust out, you know.
Sure wish I had a picture to show you, but. . . . . Oh my, this is not the best of country living.
Success and failure should be the title of this one. The colorful picture is one of the scarf I knitted some time back and it had to have oodles of knots tied in it and Beth did that. She enjoys it — it’s made of several strands of ribbon-like material.
Now the red picture has a story! First off, Beth saw this in an exclusive knit shop in Madison, Georgia and bought the yarn to make it — red and off white. The yarn has some wool in it – hands tell that as you work with it — and it’s like a tiny rope. Easy to work with. She failed to measure the size of the cowl and left the material here with some (guess work) instructions. I knitted it with the two colors and mailed it to her — you guessed it — it was too long. When she came she brought the thing and told me the (another guess work)size to try again. I raveled all that out and started over. I knitted it with circular needles (size 13) and had made several rounds when I discovered I was using a stockinet stitch and was supposed to be using garter stitch. Again I raveled. So I finished the cowl (I thought) and it fit my head. I raveled again and next time I added ten stitches which I thought would be enough. Wrong — this time it fit like a turtle neck. I raveled again, knitted it longer and mailed it to her saying if it wasn’t right I didn’t want to know about it. Whew! It’s okay, I’m told.
Remember when I talked to you last about needlework I was knitting a tabard with some yarn I bought in England? I completed it and for some reason it stretched from right to left and was a mile too big. Talk about problems — I’ve had them. Now that’s raveled out and in balls. I really do want to make something from it — but what?
Beth brought two sweaters I made when she was larger and I’m trying to ravel them; however, the yarn is fuzzy and that is giving me a fit. I may just chuck it, but she said, “But that’s the yarn I bought when so and so.” She is the baby, you know. This, too, is country living.
And so spring must be on the way we have daffodil blossoms and the hellebores are beginning to open. The Hellebores should have already been in full swing; however, the cold winter slowed them down — in fact, I was beginning to wonder if they made it. In case you’re not familiar with Hellebores — also called Lenten Rose – they are late winter or early spring bloomers. They need shade and alkaline soil. This knoll where we live has alkaline soil and that’s why we have no luck with azaleas. Right now (and even before now) the Hellebores need to have the old foliage cut and removed. That would let the new growth and blossoms show up better; however, I doubt this elderly couple can get that accomplished this year. The woods will be full of blooms before long and John has sold them for years, but age has taken its toll.
I’ve not had the best of luck with the tomato seed I planted a few days ago — I think I have ten babies and only one is the running variety. I really do hate to lose that one — we’ll see. Perhaps I have not kept them wet enough – it seems I have them too wet or not wet enough. Gardening is somewhat of a gamble, you know.
Oodles of chores need to be done now, too. Our Pampas Grass needs to be pruned back and that’s a big job. Those blades will cut your hands if not wearing gloves and even then one can get nipped. Mid March is also the time to prune roses. Roses are not my thing; however, I have two I’ll prune. The one commonly called Joseph’s Coat is our favorite.
Now is the time to put out onions, plant greens — lettuce, beets, etc. All this sounds like work, but it, too, is country living.
I ain’t never see’d the beat in my life — how folks treat lil’l young’uns today. Last week we went to the tax office — we had to see what The Infernal Revenue was gonna to do us — and the north wind was bad. Y, hit would cut right through a body. I see’d this woman come out of the back — I know she wuz there to git her taxes figured, too, and she had this cute little child in her arms. Hit looked like a boy — had nothing on but what looked like a pair of pajamas — you know, that kind with feet. The baby didn’t have on no coat er nothing — he didn’t even have on shoes and here she goes out’n this warm building in this cold wind. I jist drawed up in a knot thinking about how cold that baby wuz.
And then another time, we had company last week and they had two lil’l kids. I hear’d the doorbell a’ringing, but I’m so slow hit was ringing the third time before I could git there and there stood a little girl with no coat on — she was holding hit in her hands. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Her and her mother come on in and then I see’d the daddy coming with a really small little girl in his arms. Now that same wind was blowing 90 to nothing and hit wuz cold. That little biddy girl had on some long stockings, but no shoes. She walked all over the place here and I know’d her feet wuz cold. She had on the cutest dress, but that’s all she had on her body. I ain’t never!! No wonder so many babies is sick — the mamas don’t know how to put clothes on ‘em to go outside (er inside either for that matter). Y, them little folks ort to a had on a cap of some kind to go out and they ort to wear shoes — floors is cold even in the house. I guess this is gonna be a new kind of country living.
What a time I’ve having with this blankety blank computer!!!!!!
We had the nicest surprise last evening. Neighbors stopped by for a visit with two young children. Since we have no youngsters in our family we enjoy seeing others now and then. You know, neighbors used to visit more — that is before television. These two little ones were not still one minute — wish I had a little of that energy.
This is a couple of young farmers — big time. They have several house of laying hens and it’s a busy job. The eggs have to be gathered whether it’s Sunday or holidays. On top of that they have cattle and were talking about bottle feeding a young calf. Of course, that reminded me of a poem I learned years ago and I just had to repeat it for them (as I’m going to do for you). I have no idea who the author is.
The hardest thing on a farm I think
Is teaching a little new calf how to drink
You pull and tug and get his head in a pail
And he’ll just stand there and twist and jjust wiggle his tail
And then, first thing you know
Kerplunk goes his nose and you’ve got milk all over your clothes
Hold onto your patience, your teeth you must grit
If you can’t hold your temper, you might as well quit
For Mother Nature whose methods don’t fail
Never meant for a calf to drink from a pail