Stuff No One Would Publish

Labor, Plans for More Labor, and an Announcement

2010-09-04T11:36:00.000-04:00

This is how I started off my Labor Day weekend on Friday: canning 8 quarts of tomatoes (one is missing from the picture because I can only fit 7 in my canner, so the last one was processing all by its lonesome), 5 quarts and 1 pint of peaches in honeyed syrup, 9 jars of blueberry jam, 8 jars of raspberry jam, 10 jars of salsa, and 8 jars of crushed tomatoes. They join jars of strawberry jam, strawberry rhubarb jam, cherry jam, cherry jelly, and cherry chutney to form a pretty respectable store of preserved fruits and vegetables, all from local Michigan farmers. Once fall arrives and the apple harvest is in, I will put up applesauce and apple pie filling. I may even make mint jelly, not because I really have much use for it, but because I have mint.

A close look at this picture and you may notice a sort of watered-down-mustard colored door behind the shelves. You're not seeing things. It's there. You see, in our basement there are three rooms, but for some reason there are five doors within about a five-foot radius when you stand at the bottom of the steps. Zach turned this door into pantry shelves. Another door is our DVD shelving (which is a bit more stylish and completely full).

This morning I told Zach about my big plans for turning part of the backyard gardens into tiered raised beds in which to grow more of our own produce. He's on board. Excellent! Now I simply need to find the time to go price lumber and compost. It will be a lot of work moving plants and hundreds of large rocks, but I need the exercise anyway.

Now for my big announcement. No, I'm not pregnant (thank goodness). I had an epiphany Thursday while driving home from Grand Rapids. I get most of my best ideas while driving to and from my Grand Rapids office once a week. My muse was working overtime this past week, probably because she knew that come next week I will be carpooling with a friend and our conversation will likely drown her out a bit.

One of my many ideas involved my blog. I realized that when I started this blog, I envisioned it as a place where I could write shortish essays about things that interested me but would never warrant actually being published anywhere, partly because of their brevity and partly because they would largely be centered on me and my life. So I called the blog Stuff No One Would Publish. As I work in publishing, I thought this was sort of clever.

But over the past two years it has morphed into something slightly different. I do occasionally post a more thoughtful entry (and those are some of my favorites to look back to) but I also post a lot about things I do. Hobbies, mostly. And driving home from work Thursday I realized that my blog needed a new name. My lovely idea was The Consummate Amateur.

But just throwing a new header up top doesn't work, because the web address would have to remain the same. So I've started a new blog, which will really be this blog but under a new name and with a new address. I know this causes some annoyances. If I'm on your blog roll (which would make me super happy) you will have to change the address and name. If you follow me here (also makes me super happy) you'll have to start following the new blog.

I will keep Stuff No One Would Publish up and link to it on the new blog in case you ever want to look back at my old posts. But I think the new name really epitomizes what this blog is all about. And it's shorter.

I'm posting this exact same post on The Consummate Amateur to help smooth the transition. I really hope you will join me there!

Fresh from the Farm

2010-09-01T15:40:00.000-04:00

It's *possible* that I may have overdone it at the farmer's market today. But perhaps not. A friend will likely take some of the peaches off my hands, and almost everything is getting canned. Pesticide-free Michigan raspberries and blueberries will be made into jam (though I may freeze some of those blueberries for pancakes), peaches will be canned sliced and made into jam, and tomatoes will be canned whole for later use in salsa, chili, marinara sauce, and more. The sweet corn we will eat for the next few days at dinner. And the watermelon is for Calvin, at his request.

Now I just need some quart-size jars and a big bag of sugar.

Anticipating Autumn

2010-08-30T10:36:00.000-04:00

As the spots on this fawn, summer is very slowly fading away. Soon it will give way completely to autumn. The grasses will yellow and dry, the leaves will bronze and fall, the fawn will seek shelter and warmth with its herd as it puzzles out the white substance floating from cloud to earth and crunching under its delicate hooves.

It is nearly the last day of August and we are on day two of a 3-day heat wave. Yesterday it was 93 degrees. But mid-week we expect thunderstorms, those blessed harbingers of cooler weather, and by next weekend we should be enjoying the upper 60s and possibly touching 70 degrees—the temperature of heaven, I'm sure. My windows will be open as the house is in desperate need of airing out after a long, hot, sticky summer during which we must have racked up an impressive electric bill due to our near-constant use of air conditioning.

Soon we will be enjoying our new patio furniture, which we got at 50% - 75% off at World Market (though I did have to gather chairs from three different cities in order to fill up the set this late in the season). Soon we will be sitting by the fire bowl in the ever darkening evenings, enjoying each other's company and conversation while Calvin slumbers upstairs.

Ah, yes. There is nothing quite like anticipating autumn.

Late Summer

2010-08-28T11:45:00.003-04:00

Late summer is settling in. Around this college town we are seeing pick-ups filled to overflowing with futons and mini refrigerators and area rugs as students begin to move in at Michigan State University. We have finally gotten our cooler nights back and have been sleeping with open windows. And with a couple cooler days (with temps in the upper 70s) I've managed to get the weeding mostly done at church (with help from my friend Kim) and at home.

There was a bit of excitement when I got home from Denver Sunday and read my email from the weekend. Many of you know I'm a docent at Potter Park Zoo and I work with some raptors (not the dinosaurs, the birds of prey). Well, the peregrine falcon apparently got loose from a handler on Saturday and by Sunday night he had still had not been recovered. The bird has lived its entire life in captivity, and while he has all the instincts of a wild bird, he does not have hunting experience and he was still wearing the jesses (leather strips) on his ankles, which could get tangled in a branch and cause injury.

I spent some time on Monday tying falconer's snares to put on live traps and I also went out south of the zoo along the river trail where there are a couple open spaces that might be attractive to him. I never spotted him, but later that evening a cyclist along the river trail did. He was captured Monday evening around 6 pm when he landed on the zoo van and took a nice plump (dead) mouse from a zoo staff member. We didn't even need the traps.

While I was looking for this falcon, I did spot a number of other birds, as well as other wildlife. I had taken my camera to aid my search since I couldn't find our binoculars. So I snapped some pictures of these creatures enjoying the late summer:

Goldfinch

Great Blue Heron

Differential Grasshopper

Cabbage White Butterfly

Gorgone Checkerspot or Pearl Crescent Butterfly (currently being debated)

In a few weeks, storytime at the library will start up again for the fall. In the meantime, Calvin has been busy playing in the sandbox; playing trains; going on bike rides; watching his new favorite show, Bob the Builder; and lining his cars up for races.

Yes, I realize that rug needs vacuuming. That is something else about late summer; the dog is shedding her summer coat. In chunks. All over. Why? Why not just keep that fur for the coming winter rather than shedding and then growing a bunch more fur? I don't know. One of the dumb mysteries of nature.

My Best (Girl)Friend's Wedding

2010-08-24T10:39:00.002-04:00

Good morning, Denver. I woke at 6am (8am my time) to a clear sunrise causing the skyscrapers to glow. It was going to be a beautiful day for a wedding. I spent an hour or so reading in bed because I knew nothing in town would be open so early. Then I started to get ready for the day. When I had packed my carry-on luggage I of course had to comply with TSA regulations against liquids in bottles lager than 3 oz, so I left all of my hair products at home. I fretted about how to style my hair, but there was no need. When you dry your hair in a dry climate, it actually does what you tell it to! Who knew?

Despite not being a fan of Starbucks, they are everywhere, including at my hotel, and they were open early. So I popped in for a latte and some sustenance. I was going to get a slice of pumpkin loaf, but then I saw what the three skinny women ahead of me were buying, and I got that instead. It's a good rule of thumb when one is trying to watch one's weight; eat what the skinny people eat.

And actually it was really good, satisfying, and nutritious. I've never seen this little protein pack at a Michigan Starbucks. Just pastries. Maybe we wouldn't be so fat if things like this were routinely offered.

I had a lot of time to kill before a friend of the groom was supposed to pick me up to go get the cakes and bring them to the wedding location, so I went down to 16th street (passing no fewer than 3 other Starbucks in just three blocks) and sat on a bench until Ross was open. Ross is like TJMaxx and other discount stores, except there is enough room on the racks so that you can actually see the clothes, rather than stuffing them so full that you can't slide the hangars around. There I bought two dresses, two shirts, a tablecloth, two dress shirts for Zach, and a shirt and coat for Calvin.

When Ben's friend Nicole picked me up we got the cakes and headed for the church. We were enlisted by the lovely ladies below to help prepare some of the food, so we washed, chopped, and skewered fruit for kabobs then manned our official posts. I was at the gift table and Nicole did name tags.

Here are a couple great ideas for weddings that I got from this one. Gifts: Use numbered stickers to match cards and gifts so that when cards inevitably get separated from gifts, the couple can match up the numbers. Then mark just cards with a "C" so they know that there is no separate gift it should go with. Favors: Tina and Ben had their engagement pictures (which were gorgeous) printed out and they wrote personal notes to every guest on the back of them. This made the event more personal for guests, let Tina and Ben say the nice things they wanted to say without having to make sure they spent tons of time with each guest at the reception (which helped them enjoy the dancing and fun better), and was a nice way to keep wedding crashers at bay; no favor? better watch that person to make sure he/she doesn't make off with a gift or a guest's purse, especially since the wedding was outdoors in not the best of neighborhoods.

Finally at about 3pm, the ceremony began. Tina looked absolutely gorgeous (as always) and was obviously so very happy. I cried as she walked up with her father, thinking about how this next step in my dear friend's life would change her life in many ways. She and Ben seem so very right for each other and I'm so happy they found one another.

The minister mentioned how both Tina and Ben had had good things and good relationships in their lives prior to meeting one another, but that they had waited through the good in order to get the best, God's intended mate. She also mentioned that Tina and Ben, who are both involved in ministry, had wanted the wedding to be about community, but that the community's role in their lives would now be changing.

They would have to choose each other and give each other their best rather than being at the beck and call of the communities they served, and that the community needed to support this. I thought that was a very important message for a couple marrying in their 30s who had had a decade or more of single life away from their parents in which they gave all their energy to their communities.

One of the nicest moments of the ceremony was when Ben and Tina washed one another's feet in a symbolic act of service to one another. For you non-Christian readers, this act was drawn from Christ's act of service toward his disciples during the Last Supper, the day before He was crucified. A husband and wife are to submit to one another and serve one another.

Tina and Ben started their marriage off with this beautiful picture of submission and I pray that it will follow them throughout their lives, reminding them that their happiness lies not in concerning themselves with their own needs, but with the needs of their spouse. And it's a lovely reminder to all of us who are married, as we do have a tendency to forget that and focus on ourselves to the detriment of our relationships.

It was great to see Tina and Ben so happy, laughing and sharing their infectious joy.

After the ceremony there was food and cake and drinks, of course. There were also lawn games like croquet, horseshoes, and bocce ball, which I thought was a nice touch for an outdoor wedding and reception. It was fun to watch all of the couple's beautiful friends in dresses and ties launching horseshoes and wielding mallets. We forget that all such games used to be played in dress clothes (which weren't considered dress clothes at all!) before we all started slouching around in cargo shorts and t-shirts.

And, of course, there was dancing. I am not a dancer. Now that I'm Baptist, I can use that as an excuse, but really I don't avoid dancing in public because of some moral problem but because I'm fairly self conscious about it. I always danced very well in choreographed numbers for musicals or jazz choir, but just freestyling is not my forte. I dance occasionally at home, but it's to big band music, not dance club music. So I stayed way off on the sidelines, hoping to go unnoticed. No such luck. Tina sniffed me out and pulled me onto the dance floor. And who can say no to a bride on her wedding day? I did try to sneak away a few times, but she always caught me. Oh well. Hopefully I'm not on YouTube right now doing something stupid. I did take off my name tag at that point to avoid recognition. And I wasn't the only one dragged in against her will. Tina's very straight laced mother was as well. And she was not happy that I snapped some photos of the momentous occasion. :)

As the event wound down, we sent the bride and groom off in a shower of rose petals.

And my dear friend Tina, the wild child of my youth, the world traveler, the compassionate, beautiful, and funny friend of my younger days, ran off with her groom to start a new chapter of life.

I hope he knows just how lucky he is.

A Friday Night in Denver

2010-08-23T11:25:00.001-04:00

After a thankfully uneventful morning of travel, I got into the Denver airport at 3:30ish Mountain Time. But since they built the airport in the middle of nowhere, it does take a significant amount of time to get into the city, so I checked into my hotel around 4:45.

My lovely room at the Denver Grand Hyatt.

My view.

After settling in, I ventured out to walk the 16th Street Mall, a stretch of road lined with restaurants and shops and driven on only by the free mall shuttle that takes you from one end to the other if you find it a strain to walk a dozen blocks. I randomly ran into someone I knew from Bay City who was also in town for the wedding—she used to work with the youth group I went to with Tina—and a friend of hers, so we all had dinner together, which she bought for me! Too fun.

Then we walked around downtown together for a bit, after which we parted ways at their hotel and I kept on walking in the fading pink, purple, and orange light of the evening.

There's a lot of public art in downtown Denver, and even many of the sidewalks are works of at, with beautifully designed brick and tile patterns. This is the art museum, but many of the buildings are imaginatively designed to make an artistic impression.

Yes, that is a three-story dustpan.

There were several brightly painted upright pianos along the 16th Street Mall. Shoppers and diners stopped to play them and some were quite good.

There was a boy juggling to raise money for some Boy Scout thing, a panhandler playing an assortment of silverware with two screwdrivers, a concert, people handing out tracts, skateboarders, hoards of shoppers and diners, bicycle taxis, horse-drawn carriages, and a lone guy in an alley playing an electric guitar.

I loved the enormous planters full of annuals that featured interesting foliage rather than flowers.

As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, I grabbed a mango smoothie from Jamba Juice and headed back to the hotel.

It may have been just 8pm in Denver, but in my body it was 10pm and I was ready to settle down in bed . . . if I could find it under the seven pillows.

I started a new old book on the plane and I spent the next hour or so reading. It was the first time in a long time I've been able to start and finish a book in just a couple days. I'll be blogging about the book on my other blog, The Books I Should Have Read, some time in the very near future.

Then I turned off the light and said goodnight to Denver . . . until tomorrow.

Movie Memories

2010-08-18T11:25:00.000-04:00

Last night once Calvin was in bed and with Zach at church council meetings I brought my laptop down to the fun room so I could do some mindless busywork in front of a movie I hadn't seen in a while, The Man from Snowy River. I chose this movie partly in honor of my good friend Tina who is getting married this weekend. We used to watch this movie back in junior high school.

The movie is actually based on an 1890 poem by an Australian bushman called Banjo Paterson. To read about the history of the poem and it's modern iterations, click here. I enjoy poems that tell a story, and this one is a nice, simple tale. I've reprinted it at the end of this post for those interested in the story.

Sure, the movie has some slightly cheesy moments and the score is a little melodramatic, but I still love it today. It is essentially a Western set in Australia in the late 1800s with a bit of romance thrown in. And I defy anyone to watch this clip of some of the most incredible horsemanship I've seen on film and not want to be able to ride like that.

At the time in my life when I watched this movie fairly regularly I had big plans to live in Australia when I grew up. I desperately wanted riding lessons, especially since Tina took them and even went to equestrian camp in Colorado in the summer. I was so jealous of her horse riding and the way her family traveled to so many interesting places. But I was also lucky enough to tag along with her very generous family on many excursions to their cottage on Lake Huron, plays at the Bay City Players and the Midland Center for the Arts, Crossroads Village (where Zach and Calvin are going this weekend to meet and ride on Thomas the Tank Engine), and even a trip to Sleeping Bear Dunes.

This weekend Tina is getting married in Denver and I am thrilled to be able to fly out and share in that event. And maybe someday Calvin will want to take riding lessons and I'll be able to join him. :)

Here's the poem by Banjo Paterson:

The Man From Snowy River

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast;
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony—three parts thoroughbred at least
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry—just the sort that won't say die
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop—lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited, sad and wistful—only Clancy stood his friend
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough;
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

So he went; they found the horses by the big mimosa clump,
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

So Clancy rode to wheel them—he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,
no man can hold them down the other side."

When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull
It well might make the boldest hold their breath;
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint-stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the farther hill,
And the watchers on the mountain, standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely; he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
They lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges—but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam;
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten; then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reed-beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The Man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

~Banjo Paterson, 1890

A Big Idea

2010-08-17T09:51:00.001-04:00

What do you do with a tomato this big? You chop it up to see how much you really have . . .

You stand a moment, amazed that one tomato could yield 2 cups of chopped tomato. Then you add it to other chopped up tomatoes from your garden to make a massive bowl of colorful bruschetta.

Throw in some minced fresh parsley, oregano, and basil from the herb garden, some fresh pressed garlic, a bit of olive oil and balsamic vinegar and you're set for days.

It's this sort of summer "cooking"—as well as the prospect of canning—that has me planning for a backyard garden overhaul this fall. I want to grow far more vegetables, but I have a very small backyard with lots of shade, hard clay soil, and a poisonous black walnut tree lurking at the back fence. What's a girl to do? Put on her thinking cap and improvise! Make it work!

See, I like working in the yard and I need some good hard labor to kick start my weight loss once more. Plus I love the idea of feeding my family fresh, ripe, tasty produce that has never been tainted with pesticides, shipped in trucks that cough exhaust into the air, or handled at the store by some woman who sneezed into her hand and then felt for the ripest tomato, leaving a nice infected one behind for me.

To that end, I will soon be moving perennials, donating some plants to our church gardens, and hauling rocks. I'll be measuring and buying lumber. I'll be adding compost and breaking up soil. All this so that in the spring I have lovely tiered raised beds in which to plant lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, peppers, beans, asparagus, zucchini, acorn squash, and maybe even corn. I huge undertaking? Yes. But one with a potentially very satisfying result.

So come cooler weather, I'll be working on this:

Wish me luck!

Bounce!

2010-08-15T16:12:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday, Violet!

Wedding Ready & Photoshop Fun

2010-08-13T11:11:00.001-04:00

As I mentioned before, I've finally made the bolero to go with the dress I'm wearing to my friend's wedding in Denver. I don't think any article of clothing has gone together more quickly than this little jacket. And come to think of it, the dress went together really fast too. Altogether a great pattern that I will make again!

Notice the hat? I grabbed that little beauty for just $20 at a nearby wig shop. Yes, strangely I live about one minute's drive away from a wig shop and I pass it at least once or twice a week. I only just noticed that it says "wigs, cosmetics, hats" very small on the sign. I needed a black sun hat for this now outdoor wedding and I thought since I was passing by I'd stop in and see if they had anything.

"Can I help you with anything?" asked the one of the nice, very-done-up ladies inside. (I mention her level of done-upness because I was in sort of slouchy clothes and hadn't taken a shower yet.)

"I'm looking for a black sun hat," I replied while scanning the floor to ceiling heads modeling wigs of every style and color imaginable. Hundreds of pairs of vacant eyes stared back at me. *shiver*

They had one black sun hat. It was perfect. The lady suggested putting a tupperware container in the crown while packing my carry-on, which I will certainly do. I want it intact when I get to Denver.

I thought I'd fiddle a little with some Photoshop effects to make a couple shots of me in the hat look a little older. How'd I do? Would you believe these were old photos? Honesty is optional.

Birthday Dresses

2010-08-12T20:44:00.000-04:00

I decided that for my niece Violet's birthday this month I would make her a "little girl" dress. I've been wanting to make a cute little girl dress for a while, and this was my opportunity. I already had fabric I wanted to use (which I purchased back in, oh, November) and I knew I had enough of the fabric to make two dresses. Because, you see, sometimes it's easier for my two little nieces to get along when they get similar presents. And even though Annabel's birthday isn't until December 23rd (poor thing) I decided to give both of them handmade dresses. And here they are, little Violet's on the left and bigger Annabel's on the right:

Violet's party is this Saturday up at the lake house of my sister's in-laws. There will be swimming, food, cake, and lots of kids. And a bounce house. You read that right. A bounce house.

Here are the lovely little girls themselves (and me):

So, it's not that I haven't been sewing lately, despite the drop in blog posts about sewing. Besides these dresses I've also made a shirt, most of a skirt, and the bolero for the dress I'm wearing to my friend's wedding in Denver next weekend. Busy, busy, busy. Plus we've had one of those months where for some dumb reason we've scheduled too many commitments. I don't care for being so busy, but I suppose one must be sociable at times.

The Russians Are Coming

2010-08-11T12:42:00.000-04:00

This, my friends, is the most wonderous, fantastic, amazing, tasty tomato I have ever eaten. It's called Caspian Pink and it's a Russian heirloom tomato. It has a mild taste and the "flesh to guts" ratio (as I like to call it) is about 3 to 1, an incredible feat.

I do not like gutty tomatoes. I do not particularly like very strong tasting tomatoes either, at least not raw. The Caspian Pink is the perfect tomato. I had slices on my turkey sandwich for yesterday's lunch and I chopped up a bunch to eat with my mushroom bacon quiche (made by my wonderful husband) for last night's dinner. Calvin ate a bunch of raw pieces as part of his dinner last night. They are that good. There is a green one on the plant right now that is the size of my palm, and I have big hands.

I hereby declare that as long as I live and am able to garden, not a summer will go by when I do not grow Caspian Pink tomatoes.

I've also had great success so far this summer with these yellow plum tomatoes (also mild tasting) and the little grape tomatoes. These tomatoes offer a hint about my big garden plans. But more on that later . . .

Planning for Retirement

2010-08-10T11:48:00.001-04:00

This past Friday we were the happy guests of one of my husband's former professors. Dr. M. and his lovely wife have a home on one of Michigan's more than 10,000 inland lakes and this is the second time we've been able to go out to their place for dinner, interesting conversation, a cruise around the lake in the pontoon boat, and, this time, a couple rousing games of Clue (one of which I actually won, though the excitement of that event was somewhat tempered by the fact that I was the murderer).

Calvin was on his first boat ride on Dr. M.'s boat a couple years ago when he (Calvin, not Dr. M.) was just a couple months old. He slept in the car seat the entire time. This time he was decked out in his life jacket and shades and thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Zach and I enjoyed ourselves as well and decided that retiring on a lake would be the perfect solution for our location problem. You see, he's a city lover and I'm a country lover but we both happen to be lake lovers. Anyone who has grown up in such a watery state has this love of water hardwired into them. So, at age 30 and 32 we are looking forward to retirement on a nice inland lake (or perhaps even one of the Great Lakes--Superior would be my preference). We'll buy a pontoon boat, build a deck, and be relaxed together. We'll have friends and family over and barbecue and drink iced tea (me) and smoke cigars (him).

It's so great to have a little dream to look forward to.

There are about 30 steps from the road down to the house and about 300 more from the house down to the lake.

All ready to go!

Relaxing and dreaming up schemes for the future.

Calvin working on his sea legs and Zach keeping a grip on him. Life jacket or no, we don't want him to have a negative formative experience with water and boats.

The boys enjoying the sunset (well, this is actually a picture of Zach trying to keep Calvin from falling down the enormous flight of concrete steps. But they do look like they are enjoying themselves.)

Yeah. I could get used to something like this being my backyard.

Writing by Ear

2010-08-06T10:13:00.002-04:00

I have heard it said on multiple occasions that English is difficult to learn as a second language. I’ve never actually heard anyone say this who did learn English as a second language—just native English speakers—so I’m really not sure if it’s true or not. I have heard that for the Chin congregation that meets in our church (refugees from Burma) English is difficult, but I heard that secondhand. And anyway, is English especially difficult as compared to other languages, or would any Germanic language be difficult for them to learn?

Supposedly English has one of the largest vocabularies of any modern language, significantly larger than other European languages. But I’ve always heard it was the lack of clearly defined rules for constructing a sentence that made it difficult. A quick study of the history of the language reveals that some of the strange conventions may have arisen from it developing largely in isolation in the British Isles for about 1500 years. So, perhaps it is difficult. (If you’re reading this and English is your second language, please chime in and let me know whether or not you found it difficult to learn).

I do know this: when I was a writing tutor in college, a professor stopped by to ask me what the difference was between “a” and “the.” I believe he was from India. I did my best to explain the conventions for using an indefinite article and a definite article. I told him that “a” was more general and “the” was more specific. I gave him some examples, since examples always help me learn better than rules or theory. After some discussion he left unsatisfied, as frustrated as ever. I realized at that point that I didn’t really know the “rules” very well either, I just knew what was right and what was wrong. I knew because English is my first language.

Despite the fact that I went to a fairly good high school and was an English major in college, I was never required to take a grammar class. In fact, I don’t think one was even offered. I have also never really learned a foreign language well. I took Spanish in high school and college and got straight A’s, but it didn’t really stick. I’ve never really been able to have a conversation in Spanish, though I did get somewhat decent at reading and writing it. Now, however, it’s mostly gone since I don’t use it. I remember a smattering of nouns, adjectives, and verbs, and with thought I can form a simple sentence, but it's fairly pitiful. Mira: Lo siento. No hablo español. ¿Por que? Porque mi escuela no es muy bien.

The reason I bring up learning a foreign language is because it was when my husband learned Koine Greek at seminary that he learned and truly understood all the jargon and rules that go along with grammar. Verb conjugation, demonstratives, hortatory subjunctives, etc. It all means little to nothing to me, but it helped his analytical mind grasp a dead language in a completely different alphabet. I wish I knew all of these things about English.

But I don’t.

Still, I write and edit text in English, not only as a hobby but as my job. I know when something is incorrect and I know how to fix it, but I can’t always explain why. I write and edit by ear. I suspect I’m not alone in this.

These photos are all of my gardening journal, a little notebook I used to record my progress in the yard so I knew what was where and I could remember my plans for the future. Sometimes the entries became more about just experiencing the outdoors than working outdoors. This last one is the last one. I did a lot less work in the yard once my son was born. But this fall I'll be getting back into it. I have BIG plans for the back yard and I'll document it in my journal and also here for you to see. By the way, take note of my TERRIBLE handwriting.

Diamonds in the Rough

2010-07-31T16:54:00.000-04:00

So, at this point of the year the gardens start to get a little ragged and the whole yard and house seem pretty despicable to me. I'm not a summer person. It was at about this time of year as a child I started really looking forward to going back to school. It was always too hot, too muggy, too long, too boring. In the words of Garrison Keillor, "By August summer was dragging on the ground. . . . And I knew that summer was an experiment that didn't work."

Right now the ground is bone dry and has the consistency of 50-year-old concrete. It hasn't rained substantially in many weeks. Where are my beloved summer storms? They are not making it to Lansing. We need a good, steady, two-day rain. I've been watering my vegetables plants in their pots, but doing the bare minimum for the rest of the yard. The hardy, native perennials are holding their own. Weaker specimans are languishing. But even amidst the haggard scene of my yard, I have found some gems to share with you . . .

A tiny crab spider waits in ambush on a sort of miniature variety of black-eyed susan that appeared in the yard one year.

A honeybee busies herself on a full-sized black-eyed susan. (If you look closely at the head-on shot you can see her little pink "tongue.")

Pollen shifts on a deep magenta cosmo.

Black-eyed susans in the early morning light.

And the best find of the day, this handsome little guy. I'll let my friend David identify him/her for me in the comments once he sees this post.

Seeing Beauty Wherever You Go

2010-07-30T14:45:00.000-04:00

On my 300th post a faithful reader commented that I live in a beautiful place. She deduced this from the many nature-inspired photos I post. While I have to agree with her—I do live in a beautiful place called Michigan—I’m a firm believer that beauty can be found anywhere, if we only look for it. Her comment inspired me to share some photos of some Michigan places that might look decidedly un-beautiful at first glance. These may not be colorful flowers or clear blue waters, but they have a beauty all their own. Except for the first (which I photographed on film back in high school while driving aimlessly around Hampton Township) and the last (which I photographed on film during college in Eastown in Grand Rapids) all can be found within Lansing, Michigan, city limits.

Vintage Nature Books

2010-07-27T10:06:00.000-04:00

Several weeks ago I was wasting some time in a used book store in East Lansing and came across this 1965 book called Herbal.

Though the cover shows wear, the pages inside look like they've rarely been thumbed through. This book is an interesting compendium of herbal remedies, superstitions, and legitimate medical and culinary uses for various plants. Every other page is a full page woodcut of the plant in question, 100 of them, all taken from a 1544 folio, like this wood fern:

And there are six mustard colored pages with various animals, like the hare:

This beautiful book cost me $9. I could probably rip it apart and sell each woodcut for $20 a piece, which would net me around $2,111. Tempting, especially since it's not an actual antique (remember, these are just reprints made in the 1960s). But much of the charm of this book is found in the actual information it provides, the text—which is written in a refreshingly entertaining and frank way. From the introduction:

The present volume aims simply to entertain (and perhaps inform) those who share the author's interest in the facts and fancies which constituted our forefather's knowledge of the world of plants, and who find in it a charm for which the grimmer science of our own day offers no equivalent. . . .

Closely regarded, every one of the individual plants will be found useful, beautiful, or wonderful—and not infrequently all three. Perhaps the chief charm of the Herbalists (and certainly the one this book would like to especially suggest) is just that they are more likely than the modern scientist to impart a sense of beauty and wonder—both of which the scientist may feel, but considers it no part of his function to communicate.

And if you've read my blog for very long, you know that I'm all about honing our sense of beauty and wonder.

Ironically, during the same trip to said bookstore, I picked up a few Golden Guides on non-flowering plants (as I had just been remarking to my husband earlier this year I wished I had a book to identify mushrooms), fossils (since we run into a fair number of aquatic fossils in Michigan, which was once entirely under water), spiders (another recent wish of mine), and pond life (since there's a lot of that in my state).

Golden Guides are the polar opposite to the herbal. While the herbal gives center stage to the beauty of the plants featured, each one filling up an entire page, Golden Guides try to stuff as many little drawings onto each page as possible. The herbal is roughly 9 x 12 inches. A Golden Guide is roughly 4 x 6 inches. The herbal uses poetic language and gives you a lot of information about each plant. The Golden Guide usually offers no more than a run-on sentence or two, giving the barest of information needed for identification.

They serve two different purposes and are thus very different books. As it turns out, I already had the guide on pond life, though in a later edition with a totally different cover (which might explain why I didn't remember). I also already had one on insects and one specifically on moths and butterflies, which was purchased new within the last few years. Yep, they are still reprinting these little suckers. The used ones I got cost $2-3 each. A new one doesn't run you that much more.

I'm willing to bet many of you have at least one of these floating around your house (or perhaps at your parents' or grandparents' homes).

You can rob my stagecoach anytime.

2010-07-26T21:31:00.000-04:00

Zach took Calvin to the Ionia Free Fair today on their way home from a short trip to Grand Rapids. He saw tractor pulls, lots of farm animals, rides, and a bunch of kids. And they got this photo taken:

I really can't believe that there are two handsomer cowboys around.

Pure Michigan

2010-07-24T17:33:00.000-04:00

Back from a marvelous week at Camp Lake Louise, one of my favorite places.

Checking In from Camp

2010-07-21T22:14:00.000-04:00

We're having a relaxing week. Can you tell?

That Jacquard Dress

2010-07-16T11:24:00.001-04:00

I really didn't get great pictures of this one. The dress background is actually completely white, not off-white as this picture would suggest. We also got pictures outside, but I wasn't thrilled with how the skirt was hanging and in most of them I had kind of a dumb look on my face. So, there it is.

I also managed to finish a 1940s blouse, sort of a cross between short sleeves and no sleeves. I made it from a nice, stripe-textured linen in black and used some of my vintage buttons for the back. It buttons all the way up the back. Very stylish. I need to make a skirt to go with it, so I'll wait to share pictures until the look is completed.

But this coming week there will be no sewing. And no cooking, canning, doing laundry, working in the yard, or work work. Because tomorrow we are headed north for camp where I will take hundreds of pictures, relax on the porch swing, eat at a dining hall while surrounded by 80-100 junior highers, and just generally waste time in a beautiful setting. Maybe I'll work on a cross stitch project I just bought on a whim. Maybe I'll write a poem. Maybe I'll kayak. And definitely I'll have a great time with Zach, Calvin, and old friends.

Today I'm spending my time cutting back perennials that have gone to seed, propping up the tomato plants that are growing out of control, finishing up the laundry, cleaning out the fridge, and buying stuff we need for the trip. I just can't wait to make that turn into the drive at camp, where if you meet up with a car halfway in, one of you is going to have to back out of that curvy dirt road and try not to hit the thousands of trees that surround you. I can't wait for the sound of wood chips beneath shuffling feet, for the smell of the campfire, and for the sight of that clear blue lake, completely still in the morning fog.

Not Ready to Get Ready

2010-07-14T11:24:00.000-04:00

Last night while chatting with my husband I suddenly realized that we are leaving for our week at camp on Saturday, not Sunday as I had previously had in my head for some reason. I'm sure many of you have had times when all of a sudden you've lost a day of preparation. One less day to do the laundry, pack the bags, clean up the house, use up the milk and fruit in the fridge. It's not an emergency, but it does make you feel slightly more nervy about the whole thing.

While I'm still working on a loaned laptop, my master packing list for camp is inaccessible on my now-fixed-but-still-in-Grand-Rapids laptop. So I won't even have my packing list until the day before I need to pack for camp. I could make a new one, but I'm not sure if I should take the time. I don't even know if I have a swimsuit that fits and I'm sure I need a second pair of shorts (especially since my husband dubbed my current pair "mom shorts" and asked me not to wear them).

In the meantime I'll do what I know needs to be done—catching up at work, laundry, dishes, and another round of merciless weed destruction. I'll contact friends and neighbors to look in on the cat and water my vegetable plants. And I'll look forward with great anticipation to returning to one of my favorite places on earth—Lake Louise.

Since I can't share new pictures of Lake Louise at the moment, here are a few posts from last year's trips:

One Year Later

My Week

Maples

Enjoy! I can't wait to bring you photos from my week. There's always something new to photograph, even in a small place you've been a dozen times or more.

Chutney

2010-07-13T16:25:00.000-04:00

When my friend Valerie mentioned she knew of a good local source for cherries and asked me if I wanted any I said yes, thinking I might make some cherry pie filling (despite the fact that I'm honestly not all that big on cherry pie). But after flipping through my canning book I found a much more interesting and palatable way to use these lovely cherries: chutney.

Chutney, according to my cookbook, comes from the East Indian word chatni, meaning "to be liked" or "to be tasted." The Simply Delicious Cherry Chutney recipe includes cherries, red onion, apples, vinegar, garlic, salt, brown sugar, raisins, and a spice bag of crushed cinnamon sticks and whole allspice. It's great for serving with brie or another soft cheese or with pork. I can just imagine it on thick grilled pork chops. Yum.

Chutneys, relishes, and salsas should be left to sit in their jars for a few weeks after canning so the flavor has time to mellow before consumption.

With the cherry juice left over, I made cherry jelly, as suggested by the aforementioned Valerie. Fruit jellies are generally pretty straightforward; a certain amount of fresh juice + fruit pectin + a certain amount of sugar = jelly. Easy as you please.

The Invisible Dress

2010-07-10T10:18:00.000-04:00

What to do, what to do? My malfunctioning laptop is in Grand Rapids with our IT guy and I'm on a loaner for the week. That means no photos (because the software on this sucker is bare bones) to share with you of a dress I completed yesterday.

Oh, and it's so cute! It's Simplicity 4091 (which you can view here courtesy of the Vintage Pattern Wiki--I made the bodice of view 1 and the sleeves and collar of view 2) and it is made of a jaquard I got long ago during a fabric buying extravaganza. I've planned since getting this pattern to use this fabric for it, but I waited to start it until I'd gotten a little more experience under my belt. After sewing 7 dresses this spring, I decided I could start cutting into that beautiful fabric.

It's a white background with three shades of green (I'll call them Spring Green, Grass Green, and Deep Sea Green) and black, and the design makes me think of very simply painted watercolor flowers and leaves. The stiffness of the jaquard helps the dress hold its shape despite the lack of a crinolin underneath (I'm just not quite ready to take that step into true vintage yet).

I hope to be able to share a photo with you all late next week when I get my poor computer back.

Bits of Life

2010-07-06T11:01:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, life really is a bowl of cherries. Rainier cherries.

Life is also growing . . .

small pleasures (like a bunch of vintage buttons from the Bay City Antique Mall) . . .

kisses from mom . . .

and Gramps schooling Calvin in the finer points of matchbox cars (it's important to be able to tell the difference between a BMW and an Audi) . . .

Declaration

2010-07-04T16:37:00.000-04:00

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness."

Happy Independence Day!!!

Common Sense

2010-07-03T13:53:00.000-04:00

In anticipation of Independence Day, I bring you excerpts from Thomas Paine's influential political piece, "Common Sense" (1776). All italics are in the original:

"Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favor; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason."

"The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind."

"Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness. . . . Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one; for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries by a government, which we might expect in a country without a government, our calamity is heightened by reflecting that we furnish the means by which we suffer. . . . Wherefore, security being the true design and end of government, it unanswerably follows, that whatever form thereof appears most likely to ensure it to us, with the least expence and greatest benefit, is preferable to all others."

". . . that the elected might never form to themselves an interest separate from the electors. prudence will point out the propriety of having elections often; because as the elected might by that means return and mix again with the general body of electors in a few months, their fidelity to the public will be secured by the prudent reflexion of not making a rod for themselves."

"Here then is the origin and rise of government; namely a mode rendered necessary by the inability of moral virtue to govern the world."

". . . the more simple any thing is, the less liable it it to be disordered, and the easier to repair when disordered."

"But Britain is the parent country, say some. Then the more shame upon her conduct. Even brutes do not devour their young nor savages make war upon their families . . . . Europe, not England, is the parent country of America. This New World has been the asylum for the persecuted lovers of civil and religious liberty from every part of Europe. Hither have they fled, not from the tender embraces of the mother, but from the cruelty of the monster."

"These proceedings may at first appear strange and difficult; but, like all other steps which we have already passed over, will in a little time become familiar and agreeable; and, until independence is declared, the Continent will feel itself like a man who continues putting off some unpleasant business from day to day, yet knows it must be done, hates to set about it, wishes it over, and is continually haunted with the thoughts of its necessity."

A Patriotic Tomato Plant

2010-07-02T10:47:00.000-04:00

I took this photo a couple of weeks ago but it struck me today that it might be a good one to kick off Independence Day weekend. This intrepid little tomato plant came from a seed from one of last year's grape tomatoes that must have been turned under the soil along with a bunch of leaves during my garden clean-up this spring. With the odds very much against it (after all, there is quite an expanse of cedar all around this planter meant to keep things in) it found a way to thrive. With a little luck and a little gumption, it struck out on its own and started growing.

And with the odds very much against those who colonized our country before it was a country, they struck out looking for a place they could grow and live according to their consciences. It's my hope that we remember the many brave and stalwart people who, with a little bit of luck and some help from the French, defeated the most powerful empire in the world and began "the great experiment" that is America.

That hard-won liberty is always in a precarious balance with authority. In order to retain our cherished personal liberties, we must obey the authority that we have placed over us through free elections. However, we must never allow our elected government to infringe on those liberties we hold so dear. We must keep a watchful eye on government so that it does not grow so large and so powerful as to oppress its citizens. Because, after all, that's what started the Revolution.

May we be a people united, one from many, in pursuit of peace, prosperity, and justice.

Random Roundup

2010-07-01T17:14:00.000-04:00

Lots of little things to report on today. First and foremost, congratulations to Ms. Mordecai, winner of the 300th blog post giveaway. Email me with your address (just click on my photo in the top right) and I'll get the big box of fabric mailed off after Independence Day (using the cheapest method possible since it is so heavy!).

Tuesday I spent the better part of the day weeding and deadheading in the garden at home. I'm waiting for a rainy day before I attempt to do the same at church because wet soil makes the weeds come out so much easier. But it must be done soon. Ack, it's looking terrible there.

Wednesday I hung out with Calvin. Nothing substantial to report except it was a fairly whiny day. However I did start drafting out my amazing new plan for the back yard gardens. It will knock your socks off (if you care about such things) but I'm not going to be working on it until at least the fall, so no hints yet.

Today I managed to pick up and clean much of the house, which was looking pretty despicable. The side-effect of me getting so much sewing done in June is that the housework was completely ignored. But I recently started reading my old favorite blog, Pleasant View Schoolhouse, (now sadly no more) from the beginning and I was inspired by Anna's own attitude toward homemaking and the many little quotes from vintage books that talked about cleaning, cooking, and looking good while doing it.

And while I was tidying up, I took a few photos for you . . .

Windows that can open in my house have been open for days as we've enjoyed daytime temps in the 70s and evening temps in the 60s, so the fan in the living room has been running today to help circulate the fresh air.

I've washed all of Calvin's vinyl bibs and hung them on cupboard handles to dry.

I cut some spearmint from the herb garden . . .

washed it . . .

and added it water with lemon juice and fresh strawberries for a refreshing flavored drink . . .

And I also cut some Golden Marguerites for the kitchen.

As far as I can tell, the month is off to a promising start.

Greenfield Village

2010-06-30T13:42:00.000-04:00

On Monday I enjoyed a glorious day off. I like to take a vacation day soon after each of our three sales conferences each year, after the rush to get my catalog done, and the subsequent rush to get all the back cover copy I've been putting off while trying to get the catalog done, is over.

So a couple days ago I went along with my friend Valerie to visit Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan. It was sunny, dry, and in the low 80s. Valerie and I went in dresses, part of our humble attempt to bring a little class back into public life. We mused about how women used to wear dresses and skirts everywhere in public and how we got strange looks from women slumping along in t-shirts and shorts that were riding up on them. We did get some appreciative glances from men (who also used to look much less . . . slouchy . . . in public) and almost every person working at the village was full of smiles and compliments about our apparel (and Valerie's lovely hat). Many of these people were in period garb (from the mid to late 1800s) and I have to tell you, men should really start wearing vests again (waistcoats, for you non-Americans) and getting rid of the beer guts. There's nothing quite like a trim man in tailored clothing.

Valerie and I enjoyed tea at Cotswold Cottage (for more about this cottage and about the village in general, visit Val's blog post about our trip) and ambled around through interesting and significant period homes and businesses. Here we are enjoying a spot of tea and some scrumptious cakes and breads (thanks to Val for the pictures):

Notice how my elbow is firmly on the table. I'm not as classy as I'd like to be.

And notice how Val's elbow is not on the table.

My favorite things to visit were the craftworks, specifically the glass blowers, silk mill, and pottery shop. The glass blowers was amazing to see. In it several hardworking, sweaty artisans were shaping and decorating blown glass pitchers. If you've never seen someone turning glass in a furnace, dripping other molten glass onto it to make designs and handles, and expertly shaping this pliable material you should if you ever get a chance. It was incredible. These men were clearly artists and clearly happy with their work.

Actually, everyone who worked there was happy. Even women who were wearing upwards of 30 pounds of Victorian era corsets, undergarments, and dresses were happy. These people, these interpreters of history, were extremely knowledgeable, very personable, and obviously happy with what they did with their time. Despite the fact that they are paid very little compared to the education level they often have achieved and the sheer amount of physical labor their jobs entail (those on the "working farms" are keeping up the animal husbandry, cultivation of fields, slaughter, laundry, etc. with the methods of the late 1800s, again, all while wearing corsets and many layers of clothing in the heat of summer), everyone we encountered was genuinely happy to be there. So rare today where many people in service professions let their unhappiness spill over onto customers. These people inspired me to do my own work, whether paid or just around the house, with a sense of working unto God and not unto man.

There are so very many things to see at Greenfield Village and I won't list everything we did and saw, but I will encourage anyone who is in the Midwest to make the drive and spend a couple days at The Henry Ford museum and Greenfield Village. It's well worth the trip and the price.

By the way, today is the last day to be included in the giveaway. Just click here to go to the 300th post and comment on it to be included. So far, your odds of winning are pretty darn good!

Placing Myself

2010-06-29T15:38:00.000-04:00

I've been struggling over the past few years to be a very consistent writer. I've written in bursts then lost interest or simply not known what should come next. This inconsistency, plus the fact that I have an ever growing file of great ideas, means that I've started a number of writing projects that are stalled somewhere around the fourth or fifth chapters.

My dear husband got me a book recently called Write., subtitled 10 Days to Overcome Writer's Block. Period. I haven't started the actual 10-day period here, but I've read all the background matter in the first half of the book. It focuses on identifying ways your right brain and left brain may be hindering (or even sabotaging) each other and helps the writer to see common roadblocks to their own writing. It also identifies ways you can essentially clear the path for more consistent and rewarding writing.

There are a lot of excellent ideas in this book and it helped me pin point some of the ways I work against myself. One item of interest was the setting in which you write. Different people have different needs as far as surroundings, sound levels, distractions, etc. when writing, and what you think is ideal (because you heard it somewhere or read it somewhere) might not be how you work best in reality. For instance, I think of myself who needs quiet to write. And while I definitely cannot work well when someone is specifically talking to me (like my son or husband or a whining pet), I don't always do well with no sound whatsoever. And while my laptop is usually docked on my deak in my office, I don't find that this is the place where I am most creative and certainly not the place where I am most relaxed. This is where I do all my real work, with many deadlines and long lists of things I need to do. This is where I am often rushed.

I believe I work best in a coffee shop-type atmosphere where there is background noise and some life going on, but no one is talking to me or even coming up to my table to ask if I need anything else. Also, I know I get my best ideas while driving on the highway and looking at the naturalish landscape around me. I like being somewhere that is open to green space. So I've created a "writing nest" for myself at home in a room where the door closes and latches (very rare in my house), a room with no phone, that is easy to close off to pets and people, and a room in which the windows can open (also very rare in my house).

Where is this magical room? The sunroom, of course! Completely decorated by me, for me. It already housed most of my favorite books, much of my art supplies and decorating idea books, and most of my random ephemera from various trips to beaches and woodlands and fields (read: rocks, pinecones, feathers, sticks, and a dried dragonfly carcass).

This is my little nook, complete with my favorite painting, all my writing books (behind the laptop), and a cup of coffee (in my sweet souvenier mug from my recent trip to Greenfield Village—more about that in a later post).

I'm hoping that when I'm writing at home this little sanctuary will help me be more consistent and comfortable. I'll be able to hear the road outside, the breeze through the leaves, the bees on the flowers, and the birds in the trees. I'll be able to see green and be surrounded by growing things, but also be loosely connected to the world of people. I won't have the distraction of my sewing machine or my little son or the phone. I'll be sitting in wicker furniture and I'll be able to get a coffee refill without taking my life in my hands (the route from our office to the kitchen is now an obstacle course of trains, matchbox cars, and dinosaurs).

Now I just have to finish the book and take that 10-day challenge to get past myself and get the two sides of my brain working together. I've made my nest. I just have to use it.

Up Close and Personal - The Answer

2010-06-28T22:08:00.000-04:00

Well, between comments here and those on Facebook, we've got the following guesses:

1. cactus
2. fungus on a toothbrush
3. "It looks like candy, but I feel that if eaten, I'd die." (Thank you, Darcy, for this wonderful guess.)
4. aloe
5. adolescent acne (yikes!)
6. gum drops
7. foot massager (or sour patch kids)
8. caterpillar

All wonderful guesses. But unfortunately, they are all wrong! Those who guessed something edible were, incredibly, closest to the true answer, which is...

...a young cucumber! Hopefully this little guy and any friends he has will be pickles in the fall. :)

Aside: I had no idea that the flower stayed on the end of a cucumber as it grew—weird. And I'm super stoked that no one got this since I think my last one was guessed within an hour of posting it. :)

Up Close and Personal - The Revival

2010-06-27T19:45:00.000-04:00

Haven't played this game in a while. For newbies, this is Up Close and Personal, the guessing game in which I post a super-up-close photo and you have to guess what it is. So, smarty pants, what is this?

Is that a bird on your arm . . . or are you just happy to see me?

2010-06-26T15:33:00.000-04:00

We interrupt this broadcast of Developing Your Eye to bring you photos from today's docent talk at Potter Park Zoo. Thanks to my husband for taking pictures of me with PPZ's peregrine falcon. Please note that I was in a hurry to get to the zoo and thus no makeup, no hair styling, and a fair bit of sweating. But I'm okay with that.

For interesting facts about amazing peregrines and some other raptors with which I work at the zoo, click here.

For more about how I feel about volunteering in general, click here.

Developing Your Eye, vol. 3

2010-06-25T16:42:00.002-04:00

Let's see some more examples of bad, mediocre, and fairly decent photography, shall we?

Pictures of animals, at the zoo or your pets at home, have serious potential to be bad. Whether because of an unrealistic background (or bars in your line of sight), difficult lighting (you're indoors but looking through glass, so you can't use your flash—enter the blur), or simply overdoing it (you really don't need hundreds of pictures of your pet—you just need a few good ones to remind you of them when they're gone), animal pictures often turn out to be duds.

Case in point.

This lioness at John Ball Zoo in Grand Rapids, Michigan, is out of focus because I couldn't use a flash and you can see reflections on the glass on the left hand side.

Having a wall to lean against (or better yet, a tripod) and being able to hold your breath a minute will give you a better picture.

And no matter how much you want the girls to be just as pretty as the boys, just face the facts that male lions make better subjects for photos. They just look cooler. Also, don't be afraid to crop out most of the body on an animal. We all know what a big cat's body looks like, so unless that body is doing something really interesting (like anything beside lying down, which is usually what cats do) just get rid of it. It's the face, the eyes especially, that hold our interest. Those eyes are what inspire awe and fear.

It's also nice to get teeth on big cats.

Snow surrounding an Amur Tiger (Siberian Tiger) is a plus because they live in snowy areas. On this shot you can see the faint shadow of the bars on the left, but a long lens and some creative cropping got rid of most of it.

Speaking of lenses, equipment really is important. If you want to take sweeping landscape photos, you need to at least have a good wide angle lens. You may also want the capability to stitch pictures together into panoramas. And if you're really hardcore, you might want to invest in a large format camera. All those amazing professional landscape photos you drool over probably were taken in large format.

In my case, from day one I wanted to take really up close photos of very small things. I'm a detail person when it comes to the natural world. I love to notice the little things and point them out to others. So I really needed a macro lens. When I worked in film, I didn't have one. That's why I have a lot of photos of small things from too far away. Like this spider...

You can see the amazing web, but the spider that made it is pretty minuscule. When I got my macro lens, I could take pictures like this:

Holy crap. Spiders are incredible. When you can make little things larger than life you can see all the amazing details that turn an ordinary spider into an inspiring work of art (or terror if you're afraid of spiders).

The last thing I want to mention today is mood. I've taken a few photographs of this lighthouse just off Mackinac Island.

Very meh. It's obviously mid-day and hazy. Makes me want to take a nap. This photo, on the other hand, feels spooky...

Taken as the sun was setting behind me, it's not quite night. You can see a little line of the light's reflection in the water. It's mysterious-looking. And I just like that shade of blue. But this one, taken with film, is my favorite.

You can barely see any horizon, so it looks like the lighthouse is sitting on a sliver of land in a gray void. This one, to me, has the best mood and the most satisfying composition. You can see how just one place can make a very different impression depending on the conditions.

Oh, and one last tip. Probably this should have been the first thing I said on the subject of developing your eye for photography. You should know what you are photographing.

Tell me, please, what on earth I was trying to do here. Why the hell did I take this photo? Better yet, why did I keep it?!

Developing Your Eye, vol. 2

2010-06-24T20:46:00.002-04:00

I have boxes and boxes and albums of photos from my pre-digital days, those days when I was getting my feet wet and spending a lot of money doing it (on film and developing). Nowadays, a budding amateur photographer can invest a chunk of money ahead of time on a camera and possibly some editing software (though I don’t think that’s necessary, and it may even keep you from growing if it becomes a crutch) and after that it costs virtually nothing. You can delete hundreds of pictures without a thought. Getting an envelope of photos in which you can only find one or two worth keeping (a frustrating and humbling experience) is a thing of the past.

Going through all of those old photos taken with my dad’s late 1970s manual Minolta SLR camera, I can tell which were taken in college when I first “borrowed” that camera (in quotes because I still have it a dozen years later) and which were taken much later.

One of the first things I started noticing about my photos when I first really got into it was that I took a lot of photos of things that I found interesting and pretty, but those didn’t always make the best pictures. The first thing you want to note when you want to take a picture is the composition. It’s not enough to just get what you like in the shot. You want to get it in the right place in the shot and sometimes you want to include some of the surroundings in order to put things into context. Here are a couple examples of composition problems and solutions.

In this photo I wanted to capture the interesting seeds of a milkweed plant.

This photo is a bit of a mess. I’m not sure which end is up and there’s no real design, just chaos. Here’s another photo from the same day that was better composed.

Here we see one seed caught in dry wildflower stalks. Its position hints of movement/breeze, which is important for this subject matter because the whole point of those seeds is to travel through the air. Not only do we get a feeling of movement in this picture, we also get the feeling of movement that has been suddenly stopped. Very dynamic. The focus in this picture should be on the seed. Instead the stalks are more in focus. With a digital camera I could have taken many pictures of the same thing without worrying about using up film and I likely would have gotten one with better focus.

And here's that same photo with a little editing for better color.

Now here’s a photo of a single orange leaf amid drab surroundings.

Obviously there’s a problem with focus in this one. But more than that, the leaf has branches in front of it and it doesn’t take up enough of the frame. You don’t immediately realize that the point of the picture is the leaf.

Here’s an example of the same concept taken a while later.

This one has much better focus, an interesting texture for the backdrop, and a different orientation. The leaf is on the ground so the vertical photo orientation makes it feel smaller somehow (to me, at least).

Sometimes things just look better in real life. Like this covered bridge in Ada, Michigan, not far from my work office.

I must have 30 pictures of this stupid bridge and all of them are completely boring. Flat colors, flat sky, blah, blah, blah. Even when I increased the saturation and changed the lighting using Photoshop it’s still blah.

Better, but blah. I think the sky is the biggest problem. Standard West Michigan cloudiness. Sometimes something that seems like it would be a good picture is just a waste of time.

An excellent example of things that are easy to photograph but perhaps pointless to photograph is waterfowl. Ducks and geese waddle slowly along the ground and are usually fairly tame. So we think they would be easy to photograph. So we end up with a hundred pictures of Canada geese and Mallard ducks, none of which we ever care to pull out and look at ever again (and yet, here they are still filed in my photo boxes).

The reality is, you can see ducks and geese at any park along the two major rivers that run through Lansing (and possibly through your town). So if you can see them all over, what is the point of photographing them exactly as you see them?

Here is a typical duck picture.

Notice that it is from the exact angle you would always see ducks. BORING. And there’s no water in the picture, just boring park grass.

This duck photo is better.

Here at least they are in an interesting and amusing position. Who can resist three duck butts in the air? They’re in a natural setting, which is also a plus. The big problem is that they are out of focus, a byproduct of wanting to capture the fleeting moment and not focusing fast enough. A DSLR’s auto focus can help solve that problem.

Here is my favorite duck picture.

These are Mergansers on Mackinac Island. Not a duck you see every day and a very shy duck at that (a mere 30 seconds after taking this shot, those ducks were outta there—the position they are in in the photo is them noticing I'm on shore watching them). Great positioning of the heads and bodies (odd numbers are good plus having one look the other way makes it more dynamic). Interesting beaks and head feathers. Water in the background, you can clearly see the great orange feet on the rock, and because I took it through trees (after sneaking up on them as close as I dared) you get the feeling that you are spying on them, witnessing something you wouldn't normally witness. You can almost feel the breeze off the Straits in this picture.

And here is a typical goose picture.

Okay, obviously this goose was moving fast and was therefore out of focus, but even if he was in focus, look at his surroundings. Ew. A tangle of vines and leaves. Blech. Why do I still have this?

I have to tell you, I seriously have 50 or more photos of Canada geese from my manual camera days. There isn’t a good photo in the whole bunch. But I have caught some good goose photos with my DSLR, and there are a couple of things that make them worth taking and worth keeping.

First of all, they are of a stage of life that is fleeting and so can only be seen during a few weeks in the spring/summer. Who doesn’t love baby animals? Second, there’s great lighting. Third, they are from goose-eye level. Oh, and fourth, they are in focus. Win. The most important lesson I've learned through pictures of common waterfowl is that at some point, you just don't need any more photos of fat, slow, webbed-feet birds. So stop taking them.

Now, I had a spell there when I first got my camera that I had fun taking pictures of little birds in my backyard, and a number of them turned out very nice. But the thing about photographing songbirds is that you can open any bird book and probably see a better photo of them. So when taking pictures of something like that (or flowers, for that matter) it’s a good idea to try to get them in an interesting position or with a food source or in flight or something to set them apart.

This is not a good bird photo…

I took this picture through a window at my office in Ada. I never see Eastern bluebirds, but a number of bluebirds were eating the fruit off the dogwood trees in the parking lot and I happened to have my camera. Oh, where to start. Horrible lighting. Terrible background. Distracting elements all over the place. And the bird is sitting on a freaking sign with a thermometer on it. Why on earth did I keep this???

Here are a few pretty good bird photos.

I feel like these are good in all the ways the bluebird photo sucks. Good lighting, nice expressions on the little bird faces, interesting positions, good composition, etc. Here are some tips—set out a food source, use a tripod, use the auto focus and rapid firing settings on your camera if it has them, use as long and as good of a lens that you can afford, and be patient.

Sometimes, though, you may take a photo that isn’t technically great, but it’s better than one that is closer up/more in focus/etc. Case in point, these butterflies.

This is not totally in focus and not as close up as I’d like.

This is in focus and is closer up.

Thing is, the first photo evokes a lot of emotion that the second photo lacks, plus you can see the whole butterfly. The second photo was taken in closed conditions at Frederick Meijer Gardens when it was probably disgustingly March outside. The first one was taken at the end of the summer in a little field by an old apartment of ours. I spent a lot of time in that field getting better at taking pictures. If only I had had a macro lens at the time! Regardless, look at the lighting in that photo. It is gorgeous. It immediately puts you in those waning summer evenings of your youth that just gave your stomach a little ache because of how perfect they were.

Today, I’ve edited that photo and cropped it how I think it looks best.

Even though I can now take interesting butterfly photos like this one…

…I still sort of like that mediocre butterfly in the field photo better.

That’s enough for tonight. We’ll talk more about this later.

Developing Your Eye, vol. 1

2010-06-23T23:01:00.002-04:00

Before getting to the meat of this post, I'd like to mention that the giveaway from the 300th post (here) will be open until the end of June. If you want to be included, just leave a comment on that post (or Facebook if you follow through Networked Blogs). Now, on to the new stuff . . .

A new reader wanted me to write on how I developed my eye for photography. What an excellent question! It really got me to think about how my photography has changed over the years and how I have honed in on what makes, to me, a good photo. And as I started writing and looking at my photographs, I realized that this will need to be more than one post. At least two, maybe three.

My father was my first teacher as far as how to compose a photo. Photography was his hobby as a younger man and a number of his photos graced our home growing up and even now appear on the shelves of my own home. He worked in black and white and developed his own film. He takes excellent portraits especially (something I’m still working on).

One summer day, Dad and I went on a ride in his black 1955 Thunderbird convertible. We drove around the Thumb (that’s the part of Michigan that looks like, you guessed it, a thumb) and stopped at a pier on Lake Huron. Dad gave me guidance on how to compose a shot, what to include, what to exclude (which I have found is far more important sometimes than what to include—more on that in a later post), how to find the right aperture and shutter speed, etc.

That trip was very memorable, not only for the father-daughter bonding over a shared interest, but also because of the drive home. The heat and humidity had been rising steadily all day and by the time we headed home the skies opened up. And I mean opened up. You know those big fat raindrops that immediately bypass your hair and feel like they are practically entering your skull? It was that kind of rain. And lightning. Lots of it, very close to the enormous metal car we were in. We’re talking a strike within twenty feet.

We had stopped and hastily put up the soft top when the rain started, but a car from 1955 is not endowed with air conditioning and with the heat at about 90 degrees outside, to have rolled up the windows would have kept us no drier than letting the rain come in because we would have sweat buckets anyway. So we left the windows down to feel what little breeze we could. Because of that, the floor of the car slowly accumulated water, which made the lightning all the more disconcerting. I mean, our feet were in water and we were sitting in a metal box. Dad assured me that the rubber tires on the road would keep us safe from electrocution, but I harbored private doubts.

Over the past week we've had a number of these summer storms roll across the state. In fact, there is lightning flashing and thunder rumbling as I type this. Every time we have a hot, humid, lightning-filled, thunder-riddled summer storm, I always think of my dad, not just because of this photography excursion, but because he and I used to stand in the open garage and watch the rain together. I still love to watch storms, now from my front door.

Anyway, I still have the photos from that trip. Here are a few shots:

Here's the car, previously my grandpa Linny's, handed down to my mother, fixed up and driven by my father, and now, sadly, sold.

Here's a photo of boats docked in the bay.

Nice lines, but I think I made a mistake in putting the focus on the middle of the picture. So, were I to crop this photo today, this is how I would do it:

I would also make it black and white because the cloudy sky is boring anyway. May as well make it a bit more intentional-looking.

Here's a shot of the jetty with a distant lighthouse.

Again, I shouldn't have put the focus on the middle of the photo. We have a tendency to do this as budding photographers. It's natural. But it's not the most dynamic setup for a photo. Here's how I might change it today:

Cropping it this way emphasizes the horizontality (yes, I made up that word) of the scene.

Here's a shot of an ugly orange wind sock.

It has some distracting bits of boat in the bottom corners and the horizon is crooked. Today I would crop those out, increase the color saturation, and add an effect in Photoshop to make it look more like a painting. I think this edit is more satisfying:

In my next post, I'll put up some bad photos I've taken, some better versions of the same themes or objects, and then some good ones. I'll talk about why some aren't as satisfying (actually, it will probably be obvious on most of them) and also why some things just don't need to be photographed (or at least not photographed more than once). I'll also, in the next post or perhaps the one after that, show you some very early photos of mine that I still love today.

300

2010-06-21T11:20:00.000-04:00

It is hard for me to believe, but this is my 300th post on this blog. In honor of that milestone, I’ve gone back and found some of my favorite posts and linked to them below. If you’ve joined me late in the game, here is a chance to see a sampling of my previous writing. If you’ve been here from day one, I hope you’ll enjoy rereading a few posts. I think you can still comment, but to avoid spammers and advertising I’ve turned on comment moderation, so it may take a moment for your comments to appear.

And since I'm posting this on the first day of summer, I've also thrown in a few photos of my garden on the longest day of the year.

I genuinely appreciate you and thank you for reading my ramblings. Because of that, I’d also like to do a little giveaway. If you want to be included, just comment on this post and let me know what you’ve enjoyed reading about or what you would like to see more/less of in the future. I’ll throw the names into a hat and pick one of you to win a big box of fabric scraps for quilting or crafting! That’s 13 lbs of fabric, including lots of cotton, some leftover apparel fabric, and a bit of upholstery scraps.

So please enjoy this digest of Stuff No One Would Publish and comment to be entered to win!

The Unexpected Blessing of False Starts

The Literary Mystique

The Beauty of a Common Life

We Are One in the Spirit

A Trip to Paradise

An Evening of Memory

Maples

Menagerie

My Stretch of Road

'50s Housewife Dress

2010-06-19T20:39:00.000-04:00

An economical, simple-to-make dress offering ease of movement for those everyday activities: vacuuming, dusting, doing dishes, cooking, and fetching your husband's slippers and pipe. The lively blue and white print will keep you energized while you keep your home sparkling and the contrasting cuffs and collar make you feel special, even when you're cleaning the oven. Goes well with yellow rubber gloves.

Finished with your chores for the day? Roast in the oven and have a few minutes to spare? This comfortable dress is perfect for leisure activities, such as reading a wholesome book. Space-age fabric won't wrinkle if you need to rest your feet for a spell.

So what are you waiting for? Discover the wonder of your very own '50s Housewife Dress!

Savoring Summer

2010-06-16T15:20:00.002-04:00

This morning Calvin and I went downtown to the City Market to buy some strawberries. Local Michigan-grown strawberries are out of this world, and only available in June. Knowing they will soon be long gone, I bought 8 quarts for canning, pie-making, eating, and freezing. I also got some rhubarb and asparagus.

I plan on making strawberry jam, strawberry-rhubarb jam, and maybe some homemade shortcake with crushed strawberries. Getting ripe, locally grown berries means you don't need to add sugar to make them taste good. They are far smaller than strawberries grown in Mexico, but far yummier and more full of vitamins.

I found this little pair of strawberries when I was washing some for canning. It made me think of me and Calvin. After we got our produce, we sat down for a cookie and chocolate milk, then took a walk along the river and watched the construction on the other side. Calvin loved watching the excavators, cranes, and "guys" and feeling the wind blow his shirt around.

What a great morning.

A Depression Era Dress

2010-06-13T15:29:00.003-04:00

Back in April I got this early 1930s Marian Martin pattern off eBay. I love the straight, simple lines, the topstitching, the darts, and the box pleat. And I especially liked the idea that it had a freaking cape that went with it and attached to the buttons. I mean, c'mon. Who doesn't want to wear a cape (or as one this length is normally called, a capelet)? I usually like most Depression Era clothing, women's or men's. Long slim skirts, three piece suits, Art Deco influence. Nothing depressing about it.

After looking at the directions, I was a little concerned that it would take me a while to figure out just how to put this thing together. It wasn't that they were really bad, they were just different. The pattern, like many older patterns, didn't include all the pieces. It had no facing pieces, but suggested that the seamstress "face neck of dress with bias self fabric cut 1-1/4" wide, mitring facing at corners."

If I hadn't already made a number of dresses, I don't think I would have been able to figure out what was needed. As it stands, I think I did a poor job on the facing, but I don't think it shows on the outside. There was also something nearly incomprehensible about a "placket" (I ignored that part entirely) and directions on how to make a bound button hole in the cape, which I will also ignore and instead use my automatic buttonhole attachment.

Rather than a side zipper it called for a hook and eye at the waist and snaps above and below it. The zipper (or "slide fastener" as it is called in old patterns before the proper name Zipper became a generically used word) first started to get popular in the 1920s and 1930s, though a less reliable form of zipper was invented in the late 1800s. This pattern apparently came out at a time when it wasn't yet standard in women's clothing. I went ahead and used a 9 inch vinyl zipper.

Despite my worries, the dress came together in just one day. Once I read over the confusing parts of the pattern directions enough times I realized that the problem usually lay with me, not the directions. The pattern I have was purchased by an H. Bolt on New Ave. in downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan, an address not more than a mile from my first apartment in the Heritage Hill area of GR. It was ordered from the Grand Rapids Press. The envelope is in sad shape, but the pattern looked like it had never been unfolded, and the lack of pin holes in it indicate that it was never used. It's a pity, because it would have been perfect to wear shopping and dining downtown.

Almost 80 years after it was ordered, however, I used it. Made up in linen of a rich rust color that I have decided to call paprika, with bone buttons, but still missing the belt and the cape (I ran out of time last night but wanted to wear it to church today anyway), this dress is one of my favorites that I've made. Standing on my front steps, I feel like I might look a bit like Dr. Frances H. Kenyon, first owner of my 1939 home.

Update: I've made the cape (though I don't know if I'll ever wear it) and the pattern is in my Etsy shop if you'd like to try it out yourself!

Dress #2 (Plus a Bonus Dress!)

2010-06-11T17:47:00.000-04:00

I finished the second contender for Tina's wedding and I have to say I love it. I really need to lose a few pounds before wearing (which is why it's on the dress form), but I can't wait to wear it to church, hopefully in late summer/early fall.

The dress I'm wearing was quickly thrown together in just a couple evenings. It is from a pattern that may look familiar to faithful readers because I made a shimmery long-sleeved shirt from the same pattern back in February. See it here. I skipped the interfacing because I felt it made the shirt feel overly stiff. Funny thing is, the shirt seems very '70s to me, but as a friend pointed out to me today, the dress looks very '20s drop waist when I wear the belt fairly low. And with my air-dried short hair looking fairly wavy, I think I look somewhat '20s today.

At some point I'll have my husband take a picture of me in the dress that you see on the dress form because you really don't get the full impact unless it is in motion. Then you can see the box pleated bottom of the skirt in action. It flares in a flattering way, which I can give you a hint of by pulling out the bottom:

Now for the bad news. You can't vote between the ivory and black swirly dress and this one for Tina's wedding, because I already decided which one I'm wearing. For a variety of reasons, I'm wearing the ivory and black one.

#1 - Tina is wearing an ivory dress and carrying red roses and the men are wearing black tuxes. Very classic. And obviously the colors of the ivory and white dress match better.

#2 - The fabric is lighter in weight and lighter in color, so I won't be too hot.

#3 - Tina's wedding website says that dress will be less formal than I think the dark blue dress is.

#4 - It's easy to fold, iron, and wear. Good for travel.

So anyway, that's the winner. I'll still be sewing up the black bolero to go with it and we'll see about a belt.

A Summer Kind of View

2010-06-10T15:13:00.000-04:00

Tendril

2010-06-08T18:39:00.000-04:00

This week I finally got my vegetable plants in the ground. Well, not the ground, actually. I can't plant veggies in the ground because my walnut tree kills them, so I plant my tomatoes in pots. This year I also planted zucchini for bread and cucumbers for pickling. I've put them in the large planter I built a couple years ago and gave them a large trellis to climb. I love the slender little fingers these plants send out to grip the trellis.

The nice thing about waiting so long is that I got rather large plants on sale for 99 cents. I'm hoping for some good tomatoes for bruschetta this summer and canning in the fall. We'll see. Just need to remember to keep those containers watered!

Something to Munch

2010-06-07T09:38:00.001-04:00

This is a photo of a crab spider eating a fly on the dainty flowers of some Lady's Mantle. Crab spiders are ambush predators, lying in wait on a flower, camouflaged to keep their prey from suspecting danger (in fact, if this one hadn't caught a meal, I would have walked right by him--it was the fly I noticed). When a bee, fly, or other insect lands to have a meal, that's when the crab spider strikes. They're called crab spiders because the way they hold their longer front four legs together makes them look like a crab. If you click on the picture and zoom you can see the 8 tiny black eyes.

Here's another photo of a crab spider that I took a couple years ago before I had my macro lens. They are really very tiny. You can see the legs a bit better and the way this spider is holding them up (a threatening gesture) even makes them look like crab claws.

Spiders are so cool.

Dress #1

2010-06-06T15:39:00.000-04:00

Today I wore the first dress contestant for Tina's wedding to church. It was cool, comfortable, and garnered a few compliments. I haven't made the black bolero to go with it yet, but I do plan to do so. I'm also debating whether or not to add a black belt. Without it the dress seems a bit more modern. It will all depend on whether a belt helps me look thinner or chubbier. Thinner? Then yes, I will absolutely wear a belt. Chubbier? Not so much.

I'm nearly done with dress #2, just need to attach the sleeves, put in the zipper, and hem it up. Hoping to have it done by next Sunday to wear for church.

Thank you to my dear husband, Zachary, for taking this picture between rain showers today.

You know, I've been thinking a lot lately about sewing (in case you hadn't figured that out). During the past few years as I’ve done more and more quilting and sewing I have been to several quilt and fabric shops. Most have been filled with really wonderful people willing to answer my questions and give me their opinions on colors and patterns. I find that most people who work at fabric stores are interested in what I’m making--or else they are good at faking it.

But occasionally I run into store clerks with an attitude that can only be described as snooty. Three such instances come to mind.

There is a quilt shop not far from my house called Country Stitches. I have heard a number of people refer to it as Country Witches, but those of us with higher snarkiness levels call it something else. Hint: it rhymes with Country Witches. This reputation is well-earned from what I can see. During the few times I’ve gone to that shop because I couldn’t find what I needed at Jo-Ann’s (a wonderful store that is full of nice people and lots of coupons and good deals) I got the distinct feeling that those working there wished I hadn’t walked in the door. I’m not sure why. No one offered to help me. I don’t remember anyone making eye contact with me. It was just a cold, uncomfortable atmosphere. I wasn’t part of the club.

Several years ago I went down to Mason with a friend to look at a couple shops. In one, a woman asked if I wanted to join their frequent buyer program. Explaining that I live one minute away from Jo-Ann’s and about a half hour from her shop, I declined. I also didn’t see myself buying a lot because everything was about 50% more expensive than at Jo-Ann’s (but I didn’t say this). The moment I mentioned Jo-Ann’s, this woman’s entire demeanor changed from friendly to judgmental. Jo-Ann’s, apparently, is not a proper quilt shop. I was then able to extrapolate from her comments and condescending attitude that a quilt made from fabrics bought at Jo-Ann’s was inferior to a quilt made from the fabrics in her shop (which wasn’t really a proper quilt shop either, but part of a slightly tacky variety store).

My most recent uncomfortable experience was at a really great apparel fabric store in Williamston. I bought the fabric for my husband’s stole at this shop. The ladies were helpful and patient with me. But then I asked if I needed to use a special kind of needle to work with this fancy fabric. The lady said of course I should make sure I used a new needle. I said off-the-cuff that I couldn’t remember the last time I changed my needle, then laughed. That’s when I got the look. The you’re-an-amateur look. The you’re-a-barbarian look. I slunk out of there and secretly hoped she would not recognize me the next time I came in. But in the back of my mind I have this suspicion that my name, photo, and credit card information is up on a wall in their back room and I will be asked to leave the store should I dare to show my face again.

All kidding aside, none of these experiences was a make or break experience. I will go to each one of these shops again if opportunity or necessity strikes. I’m especially interested in the shop in Williamston since I’ve about exhausted the apparel fabric possibilities at Jo-Ann’s (which seems to stock its shelves with more and more polar fleece every year). But they were all experiences that made me feel small, that made me feel like I was back in fifth grade and was suddenly on the outs with the cool kids. It’s funny how just a smirk can send you back to those dark days of insecurity.

But I find that beating someone to the punch and laying it all out there on the table is a good defense against getting made fun of (hey, it worked for Eminem in 8 Mile). So here are some confessions (don’t judge me too harshly):

~ I sew on a Kenmore machine. That’s right. It was purchased at Sears at a counter from which I could see washers and dryers and big screen TVs. (The horror!) It is as basic as you can get, did not cost the same as a mortgage payment, and yet I’ve never found it lacking.

~ I have never, in the nine years I’ve sewn on this machine, had it cleaned or serviced. (And it has never let me down.)

~ The only time I change a needle is when one breaks.

~ I have absolutely no desire to get a newfangled computerized embroidery machine.

~ I almost never wash my fabric before cutting and sewing it.

~ I often finger press seams open while sewing (especially when I sew quilt tops) so I don’t have to stop and iron so much.

~ I never remember to write down what my fabric is made of or how it should be washed or ironed, and so have to guess how to take care of things after making them (unless they’re obviously just cotton).

So there.

A Rationale

2010-06-05T13:21:00.004-04:00

There's something about making your own clothes. When I first started sewing when I was 21, I thought it would be really great if I could make my own clothes, largely as a cost-saving measure. In the books I'd read as a young woman, people who couldn't afford to buy clothes made them. So I figured that making clothes would be cheaper than buying them.

HA! Now, while you can find ways to make sewing your own clothes fairly cheap (pattern sales, garage sales, thrift stores, making clothes out of old sheets, eBay bargains), to go into a fabric store, buy a full price pattern, full price (or even sale) fabric, and notions is far more expensive than shopping the clearance rack at your neighborhood department store (unless your neighborhood department store is Saks or Nordstrom). Still, in general my homemade dresses have probably averaged $20-$30 each, the price going down when I reuse patterns. I could probably find some clearance dresses at TJMaxx for about that price.

So why go through the trouble of making your own clothes? Here are my reasons:

1. I enjoy sewing. Some people, I realize, don't share this enjoyment. But I love to be able to say that I made something.

2. I can tailor the fit to my body. I have trouble finding pants that are long enough but not too big in the hips, sleeves that are long enough (I've had to make many sleeves into 3/4 length after washing shrunk a shirt), shirts that have enough room in the chest but aren't huge everywhere else, pants that don't sit right under my chest but also don't hang off my butt...you get the picture. And I hate how every brand runs different and you have to try a bunch of clothes on to figure out which size you really are. Why can't women's clothing be sized by actual measurements like men's clothing? It's like clinically insane people run the clothing industry.

3. I like having something that no one else has. Odds are in my favor that the pattern and fabric combination I choose will not have been chosen by someone else, especially when I use vintage patterns. When I wear something I made, I know I'm not going to run into someone wearing the same thing. (Aside: why is that so uncomfortable, anyway?)

4. Quality control and peace of mind. I can't count how many times I've bought an item of clothing from a store, worn it a few times, then realized it was already falling apart. Most clothes you buy at mid-range stores are practically thrown together by overworked, underpaid laborers, often in other countries with poor working conditions and little recourse for grievances against management. When I make something, I know if I've taken the necessary time to make it well. And though, yes, someone probably made the fabric in a factory that might have poor working conditions, I've at least eliminated my culpability in the mistreatment of those working in clothing factories. (And since not that many people sew their own clothes, I'm not worried that my non-participation in much clothing shopping will affect their paychecks much.)

5. Better selection. I have far more choices in pattern and fabric styles at one Jo-Ann's store than at an entire mall. Why? Because most of the stuff in stores looks essentially alike. Same styles, same types of fabric, whatever is deemed cool or trendy at the moment. But if I don't like those styles or they just don't look good on me, I won't find anything that works.

6. Bucking the trends. I've never been a big trend setter, but I've also generally not been a big trend follower. I was totally convinced that capris wouldn't last when they resurfaced in the late 1990s, and a dozen years later they are still around. I think I have one pair, secondhand, from my sister. I'm floored that the whole sagging pants, gangsta look is still around. I will not ever wear skinny jeans or bell bottoms; I'm a boot-cut girl, a happy medium. I'm alarmed that '80s fashion is on the rise again. I prefer classic looks. But sometimes you can't find a young-but-not-slutty incarnation of a classic look and everything you try just looks like something a frumpy old lady would wear. That's when sewing it yourself really comes in handy. You can get that cleavage-free neckline in colors and patterns that won't look dated in five years, without looking like a Golden Girl.

7. Someone give that girl some sleeves! I have big arms, the result of a potent combination of weightlifting for high school sports and unfortunate genetics. I need to watch my upper arm flabbiness levels as I settle into my 30s. I also have broad shoulders and am fairly tall. I'm also a pastor's wife and mother. I should not be wearing spaghetti straps with nothing else over them in public. I do have some sleeveless shirts and dresses, but I'm trying to find things that cover a bit more skin. I challenge you to go into Macy's and find 5 summer dresses that have sleeves. It can't be done. And of the few you find, most will probably not fit me right. When I sew for myself I can put sleeves on anything I want! Plus, I like dresses and skirts to be about calf-length. I think it's the most flattering length on most body types and I like my knees to still be covered when I sit down. Most department store dresses are too short.

8. I have trouble spending money on things I can make myself. I'm a crafty person. Sometimes this is a good thing. But sometimes there is actually a downside. I look at things in stores and if I can say to myself "I can make that" I have trouble buying it. I can make some kinds of jewelry, some paintings, most clothes, most blankets/quilts, mosaics, slipcovers, drapery, etc. Even things I haven't made before I can guess at. So that means it's hard for me to plunk down much money for them since I'm pretty sure I could make them myself, often for less money, and enjoy the process. This extends to my house. I can paint walls, install lighting, landscape, mow, weed, rake, shovel snow, etc., so why would I pay someone else to do it? I do splurge on things I can't do or would prefer not to do--major plumbing, for instance, or any tailored and lined clothing, jeans, any jewelry that requires melting metals, etc. Though at some point I think I could get involved with lined and tailored clothing. I'm just not there yet.

What sort of crafty things do you do? Why do you do them?

Against the Odds

2010-06-04T19:26:00.000-04:00

Last night I attended a graduation ceremony for a friend at church who just earned his GED. The GED graduates shared MSU's Breslin Center with graduates from an alternative high school program called Education Options. It was quite the experience. I've never seen such a supportive (rambunctiously, vocally supportive) crowd. Everyone there was screaming and whistling for the graduates and the students hammed it up as they walked in and walked across the stage to get their diplomas. These people were genuinely excited about their sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, and friends graduating from high school because, for them, it wasn't a given.

Eight or ten students spoke briefly at this event. All were girls. Several were immigrants who learned English as young adults. One didn't learn to read or write until she was 18. Four were unwed mothers, one of whom was brought to school every day by her English teacher to make sure she got there. Several had missed months of regular school when they went to Lansing high schools, either because they had a baby, didn't understand what was going on, or had bad attitudes. All of them were thankful to the adults who challenged them to succeed and believed in them when "everyone else said [they] were failures."

At my high school graduation, none of the kind of yelling, waving, or carrying on that those students exhibited would have been tolerated. I can't imagine the crowd of parents at my graduation screaming for their progeny. And that made my graduation more formal, but far less interesting. The students who spoke at my graduation were the valedictorian and the salutatorian, friends of mine since elementary school. They grew up in nice homes and had parents who had white collar jobs. They didn't struggle to get out of bed in the morning and get to school. They didn't struggle in their classes. They didn't have babies at home vying for attention. And, while I love them both, I don't remember what they said in their speeches.

But I will remember the speeches I heard last night.

Embracing the Rain

2010-06-03T14:40:00.000-04:00

Yesterday it rained for most of the day, but that didn't stop Calvin and I from going on a soggy walk (sans umbrella, even) to find puddles to stomp in. And it didn't stop me from taking some pictures of newly blooming roses and coreopsis. I just made a makeshift poncho for my camera out of a small plastic bag from the pharmacy and caught these images:

Do you see an upside down image of the fence in each of those water droplets? Good stuff. I'm glad I went out in the rain. If I hadn't, that neat little row of droplets would have been gone by the time I got out there. And it's the little things like that that make life just that much more interesting.

Speaking of rain, I blogged today on the Potter Park Zoo website about being a docent and rain factors in the post. I'll be posting there maybe once a month about little zoo adventures, volunteering as a docent, etc.

June

2010-06-02T10:05:00.002-04:00

Summer may officially begin on June 21st, but this year in mid-Michigan it started in mid-May. Those days of 90-degree heat and high humidity had quite an effect on Michigan gardens, and we are about two weeks (so the experts say) ahead of the normal growing season.

Yesterday, on the first of June, Grandma's peonies, the Queen Elizabeth rose, and the Bonica rose started blooming. A vase full of peonies is sitting to my right on my newly (mostly) clean desk. I saved Grandma's peonies from annihilation when my parents were redoing the landscaping around their condo (which was once Grandma's condo). Dad didn't want flowers that "couldn't stand up by themselves" and I wanted flowers that were my grandmother's, even if they couldn't stand up by themselves. So I drove them from Bay City to Lansing, plunked them in the ground, and waited for them to stop sulking.

The first year I had no blooms. The second year I think I had one bloom. The third year I had possibly three. And this year I have nine on my desk and many more waiting to open outside. You see, peonies do not like to be moved. But given enough time to recover, they will start blooming again.

On this lovely, 70-something degree evening, my husband and I took our little guy on a bike ride to East Lansing to have dinner at Cosi and get Gordon (of Thomas and Friends fame) from Barnes and Noble for Calvin, who has been talking about him a lot lately. Nevermind that he got a bunch of train stuff for his birthday a few days ago. It just whetted his appetite for more. The kid is obsessed.

I rode behind Zach and Calvin along the Red Cedar River. The trail was banked by snowy drifts of cottonwood seeds and the boys stirred up a billowy trail of fluffy seeds as they rode along. The river sat lazily on my right and dark trees rose up on my left. The setting sun filtered through the trees and lit a halo around the boys, making it look like we were riding through a photograph.

What a beautiful way to start June.

The Little Clematis that Could

2010-05-31T12:23:00.001-04:00

Two years ago I bought some clematis in the spring. The plants had overwintered at the nursery, meaning they were last year's stock when I bought them. Knowing my nursery has a guarantee and I could bring them back in November at the end of the growing season if they didn't thrive, I brought them home. A few I planted alongside other clematis I already had growing. I was hoping that with these new companions, the entire trellis on the south side of my house would be full of deep purple Jackmanii Clematis. However, those two plants did not survive and I brought them back.

The other clematis I bought was a variety called Niobe. This one seemed to have a little life in it, a small, pitiful looking vine that sprawled on the ground, seeming like it didn't have the energy to reach up and grasp the trellis by the front door. Another growing season went by, and still it looked like that plant would not make it. But I didn't dig it up. I gave it another chance. And I'm glad I did, because this year it bloomed.

When there wasn't much going on above ground and things looked bleak, my little clematis was focusing on growing strong roots. It flowered when it was ready to. It made me think about the times when we see people (perhaps ourselves) not living up to their potential, not being as good as we think they should. Maybe, just maybe, some of them are busy laying a foundation and will bloom later in life if we just care for them and are patient with them.

Two

2010-05-29T21:57:00.000-04:00

Wow.

We Get By With a Little Help from Our Friends

2010-05-26T23:25:00.000-04:00

When things start to unravel in life, that is when we see our friends and family clearly. Once I "went public" with my crappy week/month, I found that my friends and family were there to help in any way they could. Cliff is working on our lawnmower. Kristin and Ted didn't bat an eye when I asked to borrow one of their cars to drive across the state. Later, Magen offered the use of her car and her lawnmower. Valerie offered breakfast and a listening ear. And my parents offered to help us if we needed financial assistance buying a new car.

The car stuff is all still up in the air as our intrepid mechanic works through the problems. But in the meantime, I am grateful for the wonderful people God has placed in our lives who are ready with a helping hand.

I am so blessed.

When Murphy's Law Happens to You

2010-05-25T17:01:00.000-04:00

Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong -- usually just when you have almost accomplished your goal. You near your ideal weight and suddenly develop thyroid problems. You are moments away from finishing your term paper when it is suddenly devoured by your schizophrenic computer. You finally stop biting your tongue and say something snarky behind someone's back only to find they are standing right behind your back and heard every word.

Or, you are mere weeks away from paying off a student loan and the car has problems that your mechanic says "really aren't worth fixing." Oh, and you have your son's birthday party coming up. Oh, and also your bank tries to screw you over. Oh yeah, and the lawn mower stops working. And all those other little things you'd been putting off fixing or replacing until you were out of debt are teetering on the brink of total disrepair or disintegration.

So perhaps that's exaggerating a little bit, but that's what it feels like. Especially when you are dealing with all of these problems the same time you get shingles, your son gets pink eye, and your husband is on the 10th day of a bad headache and is losing his voice either because of sickness or allergies. Yeah. That's my month.

What do you do? Take some deep breaths and some anti-viral drugs, and try to keep it all in perspective as you decide just how you will get to Grand Rapids on Thursday with your "reliable" car dead in the shop and consider next steps to deal with the long-range transportation needs of your family.

Anyone have a highway-safe car they'd like to donate to a worthy cause?

Vote Results

2010-05-22T08:59:00.000-04:00

Through comments here and through Facebook, you have picked two front runners for the August wedding. #1 and #4 got the most votes (see the patterns again in my last post), so I'm going to make both of them. Later in the summer I'll don them both for pictures and you can help me decide which one to actually wear to Tina's wedding. I've already decided on fabrics, but I'm not going to share them until they're all put together so you can see each look as a finished product.

Thanks to everyone who gave me their opinion! And never fear--even if your favorite wasn't picked this time around, I do plan on eventually making dresses from all of those patterns. For those who are curious, here's how the vote tally breaks down:

Dress One: 9 votes
Dress Two: 2 votes
Dress Three: 0 votes (sheesh!)
Dress Four: 13 votes
Dress Five: 2 votes
Dress Six: 4 votes

Decisions, Decisions

2010-05-19T16:57:00.005-04:00

So, in late August I will be attending a dear friend's wedding in Denver. I am told that Denver in August is HOT. I happen to be someone who is usually running sort of hot anyway, and I sweat like mad when I'm hot. Therefore, I'm thinking hard about what dress to make for this event.

The first thing I have to decide is what pattern to use. I am soliciting your help in making that decision. To that end, I've scanned six patterns that I like, I think might work, and would likely fit by August. Leave a comment and tell me which one has your vote. After I decide on the pattern I might do a similar poll about fabrics.

Try not to let the expressions on the models' faces determine your vote. I realize that some look like they're having a good time and others look like they are about to slit your throat. Also, try not to let the colors or patterns of the fabrics hold undue influence over your vote. I realize some are a little . . . ick.

#1 - Simple, cute, and has a nice little bolero jacket

#2 - I would not do plaid. I'm not sure if I have a preference between these two designs. Both could be cute.

#3 - Hopefully I wouldn't look this snooty. I like the view without the high, bow-tied collar (obviously).

#4 - I like the short-sleeved, boat-collared look on this one, but that may just be because the model in the sleeveless version looks like her clavicles and shoulders are seriously deformed.

#5 - I would do this in a solid or a pattern with short sleeves.

#6 - The only modern pattern in the bunch. I like the shorter skirt.

To End the Day

2010-05-18T20:03:00.012-04:00

This evening I had a chance to take a quick spin around the house as the sun was setting. Moments before I was singing to my sleepy son as he put his little hands on my cheeks and pushed his face against mine. It has been a nice ending to an up and down day.

I spent some time this morning at the zoo in the coral reef room as hundreds of schoolchildren trouped through. I held live starfish and sea urchins out where the children could touch them. Cleaner shrimp meticulously cleaned under my fingernails and in the folds of my hands and knuckles. I helped the kids find the smallest animal at the zoo to fill in a blank on their little scavenger hunt (a single coral polyp was my brilliant idea for that one).

But the afternoon was filled with dealing with problems (well, one main problem) and realizing some things we'd been looking forward to would have to be put off--again.

I also got to listen to most of a manuscript for work that, while a fascinating and engaging true story, did a number on my emotions. It's a fabulous book and it had me crying quite a bit. It also helped me put into perspective my own troubles today and see them for what they are--inconvenient, but not life-shattering. I'm thankful for the way this book has helped bring that into focus.

This evening we had pancakes for dinner before my husband had to go to church for council meetings. Calvin got respectably sticky. Then Cal and I played t-ball on the front lawn, walked around the block, and talked about all the different color cars we saw (well, he talked and I listened). Then it was bath time to remove the last vestiges of syrup from between his fingers.

Because I wanted more time with him tonight I let him stay up--even though he hadn't taken a nap today--and watch some Thomas the Tank Engine while playing with his trains in the family room. Every so often he climbed into my lap and cuddled with me, his soft fleece footed PJs making him extra huggable.

Then it was up to his bedroom for stories, tooth brushing, and some songs. Lately Calvin has gotten very fond of us singing and he sometimes sings along in his own little way. It's terribly sweet, as you can imagine. This makes me very happy because for a while there when either of us would sing he would frantically make the sign for "all done" and, in case we didn't get it, repeatedly say, "All done! All done! All done!"

So now we've come to the end of the day and what have we to show for it? Some put-off plans, some perspective, and some memories of tiny hands, bright eyes, and sweet smiles from someone who, if it is possible, I love more and more each day.

Life seems lovely on a warm May evening with the setting sun giving a special glow through the trees to a few select spots in the garden. In the midst of our self pity God shines a small light of grace and we see our lives for what they are--a gift. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

I Should Have Known

2010-05-15T18:19:00.002-04:00

I should have known that some serious sweating while working hard outside would help me out of that funk. Today was Work Day at my church. I, along with my excellent helpers, am revamping the landscaping around the church. It's sort of a five-year plan. Last year on Work Day we created a new garden. This year we removed overgrown junipers, sheared back and transplanted shamefully neglected spirea, pulled weeds, and got rid of many, many yards of black plastic in an already established garden. There's something about wielding an axe, stomping on a shovel, and hearing the *zing* of shears that just puts a bounce back in one's step.

Donations of perennials will be coming in in the next few days and I'll be planting up the now vacant areas of that garden with columbine, irises, daylilies, daisies, veronica, and black-eyed susans. Nothing like dirt under your fingernails and sweat soaking the front of your ball cap to put you in a good mood.

Funk

2010-05-14T16:20:00.004-04:00

Ever have a time in your life when your creative juices and energies just dry up? That's how I've felt lately. I feel like I have nothing to say. I don't feel like writing, sewing, cooking dinner, picking up Hot Wheels, cleaning up yet another hairball, or doing one more load of dishes. I don't feel like taking a shower but I don't feel like being scrubby all day. I don't feel like being home, but I can't think of anywhere I would like to go. And the one thing I did feel like doing today--mowing the lawn--just isn't going to happen because of a malfunctioning (or rather, unfunctioning) lawn mower.

What sends you into a funk? And how do you get yourself out of it?

Headed in a New Direction

2010-05-12T15:12:00.009-04:00

Since my blog format has changed, I'll never be using my old, smaller blog header or footer photos again. So, before I erase them to make more room on my hard drive, I thought I'd put them all in one post for posterity. They are in no particular order, and I may be missing some, but such is life. I've also included a few I cropped but never added the blog title to or used.

My Second Year of Motherhood

2010-05-08T13:49:00.005-04:00

Last year on the eve of Mother's Day I wrote this post. Not long after that, new parenting challenges arose for us as we navigated that frustrating time when a little boy is caught between dependence and independence with very little language to help us all communicate. A friend at work had mentioned to me that she felt that the span from age 1 to age 2 was the most difficult for her and her son. Within two days, I could see why.

That said, the past year has been absolutely wonderful, full of laughter and seeing our son develop his own little personality and sense of humor. Though there were days of sheer frustration near the start of my second year of motherhood, most have been days of joy. The decision to put Calvin in part-time daycare 3 days a week had a lot to do with that. We get more time to work without interruption and he got more time with friends and teachers who focus on learning and more varied playtime than he was getting at home. We also welcomed the coming of spring this year with eager, wide open arms and have spent many hours on walks, at the park, in the sandbox, and at the zoo.

At this point in his young life, our son is largely feeding himself, goes up and down small flights of stairs unassisted, enjoys looking at bugs and petting neighborhood cats, and his current favorite song is "The Wheels on the Bus" which he calls "Wheel Bus!" He says three- or four-word statements or sentences, like "orange cat all gone" (when we continue our walk) and "mommy open eyes" (this morning when I was laying on the couch trying to fall back asleep after an early wake-up call from him).

And we're now at the prime time for people to ask the standard question about additional progeny. Calvin's lead teacher wants us to have a little girl (all the teachers and staff there love him because he is very sweet and well-behaved and doesn't have tantrums). A few older ladies at church have asked when we might "give Calvin a little friend." And an old school chum of mine who recently got married and is thinking of starting his own family asked if we were planning on having any more.

Nope. While I've occasionally thought that it would be nice for Calvin to have a sibling, neither of us is interested in having a baby. We've gotten to the point where Calvin is much more independent and we really like it. So at this point, Calvin's looking at life as an only child. God may have His own plans for us, but until He makes known something different, we're sticking with the status quo.

Hope You Like It

2010-05-07T23:46:00.008-04:00

The blog makeover is just about complete. I had to re-enter all my sidebar stuff (link, blogs, etc.) and I fear I'm forgetting something, but I suppose I'll eventually remember it all and fix it up.

The nice thing about this format is that I can post larger photos . . . like this one:

Calvin at the library for toddler story time. We've been going every Wednesday since the beginning of April and it runs through the end of May. I'm really going to miss it when it ends. We'll still be able to walk to the library and the park, but this small community center library is only open from 1-7pm whereas we had been going to this special program in the morning, which I really enjoyed.

I guess what we will have to do is find a new morning adventure for Wednesdays. Perhaps trips to Fenner Nature Center, Woldumar Nature Center, a couple museums, and, of course, the old standby - Potter Park Zoo!

Time for a Change

2010-05-07T09:19:00.003-04:00

It almost goes without saying that there comes a point in everyone's life when it's really time to revamp the blog. I've been changing colors, headers, and footers, and adding widgets here and there, but the template has essentially remained the same. So this weekend one of my projects will be working on a whole new blog design. Why? Because I can't leave well enough alone, everything has room for improvement, and it's supposed to rain for the next two days.

So don't mind my dust and watch out for the orange barrels. There's construction ahead.

Grace for the Hard Times

2010-05-03T09:47:00.004-04:00

In May two years ago, my grandmother had a fall that proved to be the beginning of the end. In the months that followed, her health declined rapidly, and on July 4, 2008 she passed away. I’ve blogged a number of times about items that I kept from her house. One item I haven’t mentioned in the nearly two years since grandma’s death is a black journal of sorts. In it, my very reserved grandmother did not pour out her innermost thoughts. She used the book, which was really a ledger, to record dates, travel, and some costs.

Most people would probably have thrown this away because it doesn’t, at first glance, contain anything personal about my grandmother. But I kept it. And after flipping through it, I know why. It may look like just a series of dates, but when you read between the lines, it is very revealing.

The first part of the book records grandma’s travels from the mid 1970s through the 1990s. Widowed when her sons were in their teens, grandma never remarried. Once her sons were out of school and married or in college, grandma became part of a group called the Nomads. This group traveled all over the place. The places recorded in her little ledger include England (multiple times), Nantucket, Nova Scotia, Savannah, GA, L.A., a Shaker village in Kentucky, New Mexico, Alaska, Mackinac Island, Yosemite, Canada, the Caribbean, Finland, and Sweden. She also visited family regularly in Michigan, Ohio, and Texas. She recorded the surgeries, hospitalizations, and deaths of friends and family, and my bridal shower and wedding. She recorded purchase of a stove, the costs of a visit from a plumber, and the items she put in one of my mother’s many garage sales.

But as you get near the last part of the record, in the 2000s, you see a distinct change. She isn’t recording as many trips. Instead, the lines are filled with tests, medications, and procedures. A tooth pulled, an ultrasound, a colonoscopy, a sprained foot, and the dosages of a number of pills. Never one to complain or share her troubles with others, grandma didn’t let on to her grandchildren how her health was failing. I’m sure my mother pried it out of her (in love), but we never knew.

On a page recording events in 2002, grandma lists a physical, a mammogram, a chest x-ray, two CAT scans, visits to her doctors about her sinuses and her esophagus, and surgery for cataracts and her sinuses. But in the midst of it all is this entry:

May 2 to May 14 – Cherry tree blossomed

What a woman. In the course of what had to be a taxing year, she thought it significant enough to record the blossoming of a tree outside her window. And what a good reminder to all of us to realize God’s blessings amidst our trials.

Note: This photo was not taken by me. I have no cherry trees!

Life at Your Own Pace

2010-05-02T21:43:00.004-04:00

Everyone's life has a pace. From lazy to frenetic, we all live at a certain speed. It may change a bit during different seasons of life, getting more hectic in graduate school or after you have children, calming down a little when your kids are in college or you move from full time to part time work.

Many people I know feel their life is too full, too busy, too hectic. Days fly by in a flurry of driving, kids' activities, meal preparation, housecleaning, yard work, and, if they're lucky, a little personal grooming. Then they collapse in front of the television for an hour before going to bed. If you asked, most people would probably complain that they have too much to do in too little time.

I get a lot of "how do you find time to do that?" from friends and family. How do you find time to quilt and sew? How do you find time to write? How do you find time to take pictures? How do you find time to garden? How do you find time to volunteer?

Here's the big secret: you are in control of your own life's pace.

How do I find time? I make time for the things that are important to me. Unless you are a single mom working full time and taking care of multiple kids, you should be able to carve out some leisure time. (And if you are that busy single mom, you need leisure time more than the rest of us. Find a relative or friend who will take your kids off your hands regularly so you can breathe a little.)

Here's how I make time in my life, despite full time work and a toddler, for the things that are important to me:

1. I don't spend much time watching TV. Step number one to having more time - get rid of your cable. It is a complete waste of your life. You get almost nothing from it and you give hours and hours and hours. You'll also have more money with which you can afford a relaxing and satisfying hobby or two.

2. Like me, you may waste a bit too much time on the internet. My challenge lately is realizing when I'm just wasting time online and getting away from my desk and into a different room. Try turning your computer off (the actual computer, not just the monitor) at a certain time each night and don't turn it on again until the next day.

3. A spotless house is nice, but unless people are coming over, its not necessary. No, you should not allow strange flora or fauna to thrive in your bathroom and you probably don't want to be able to write your name in the dust on every surface, but really, is it that important to be spic and span every day? I do serious cleaning when I notice things are getting out of hand, but there are other ways to minimize your chore time. The best way, if you have kids, is to give them some freaking chores to do! When I got home from school every day there was a list for me and one for my sister. Those tasks were to be completed before mom got home. My firstborn sister did hers immediately. I stalled until I heard the car coming in the driveway. If you have children age 5 or older, they should be contributing to the upkeep of their home. Even my almost-2-year-old will help pick up his toys. Don't ask your kids for help, make it known that you expect it from them and they will do it.

4. Drop some activities (and have your kids drop some activities) that aren't essential (and the only essential activity outside the home is working to pay the bills). If you're constantly trucking your kids to five different extracurricular activities you are wasting your life. Whoa! Did she just say that? Yes, I did. Kids don't need to do every activity that is available to them, and some studies show it may even be damaging to children to have every moment of the day scheduled and structured. Kids need time to just explore the backyard, have imaginative play in their rooms, read books, and interact with their families. They can't do that if they go right from school to soccer to dance class to piano lessons. Have them pick one activity and stick with it. You get the same lessons about teamwork if you just play baseball as you would if you play basketball and football as well. Your kids don't have to be good at everything and they don't have to experience everything you did (or didn't get a chance to experience). Life can be just as rich, and perhaps even richer, for a child who learns to relax with their family and just enjoy life. Some of my best memories are of simple moments at home.

5. While we're on the subject of kids . . . Some people get all of their joy from their children, and that's perfectly fine. But I'm not one of those people. My son has given me more joy than I could have imagined, but my entire life doesn't revolve around him, and he knows it. He knows that mommy works, that mommy has to eat too, that mommy is sometimes too busy to cater to his every whim. And that's good for him. Because the world doesn't revolve around any one of us, and the sooner we learn that lesson, the easier it is to get on in life. If I wanted, I could spend every waking moment on the floor playing with Calvin, but it wouldn't be good for either of us.

6. Get help. If you can afford it, put your toddler in daycare part time. Get the grandparents to take your kids once a week. If you don't have kids or a spouse who can share the workload, pay someone to clean your house if you can afford it. Pay a neighborhood kid to do yardwork. When my mother comes for a visit, she asks if she should bring her cleaning supplies. We can chat just as easily while cleaning out the fridge together as we can sitting on the couch. Don't be afraid to ask for help.

Those are just a few ways I make time for the things I love to do, a few ways I choose the pace of my life. Yes, I let some things go that perhaps type A people just couldn't do. But you do what's important to you and the rest will work itself out.

Make time for your family to just be together at home. Make time for yourself to do something creative or relaxing. Make life go at your pace. It is possible.

To Blog or Not to Blog

2010-04-30T16:17:00.003-04:00

I found out earlier today that a blog I have enjoyed for a few years now is coming to an end. Reading Pleasant View Schoolhouse has been part of my routine and to some extent is the reason I started blogging. I have enjoyed these windows into Anna's home and family life, her sewing and flower arranging, her homeschooling and her homespun wisdom. I feel a bit sad, as if a friend of mine was moving to another state. I'll really miss this blog.

In God's Providence, the poem I'm commenting on today in my other blog, The Books I Should Have Read, is a Robert Frost poem called "Reluctance." And the feeling I got as I read Anna's last post and it dawned on me that she was going to stop blogging (which meant I would have to stop reading) was just the sort of feeling Frost talks about. Check it out.

Recently my boss and I were discussing blogs and blogging. He said he didn't understand why people read blogs, why someone would care what some person they had never met thought about things. I explained that as someone who works alone from home and doesn't live near family, reading blogs is one of the ways I connect with the world, one of the ways I feel a connection with other people, both the bloggers themselves and those who comment on their blogs. I told him that blogs give me ideas and inspiration for my own life and home.

That's why I read blogs. Now, dear reader, why do you read blogs?

Bouquet of Afterthoughts

2010-04-27T15:35:00.004-04:00

Because they were spread across the gardens in such a way as to have absolutely no impact, I decided to gather up the few tulips and late daffodils and introduce them to one another. They are pictured here in a loose, sort of goofy bouquet in my kitchen because they match that room so well. But having just unearthed the countertop from the flotsam and jetsam of a busy week or so, they are now sitting on my desk, lightly scenting the air as I work. It seems to me that if they had personalities they would be fairly silly.

A Red Letter Day

2010-04-23T20:14:00.009-04:00

For the past few months my aunt has been going through her house in preparation to move into a new home. She is a collector and a saver and has a lot of stuff to go through. So, every few weeks I have received an envelope from Florida containing little newspaper articles about me that my grandmother had sent her, letters and postcards I had sent her as a child, and even an early 1900s diary that my great-grandfather had kept (which I plan to blog about someday if I ever take the time).

When I went to college in 1998 I had a rather large collection of National Geographic videos, having been a member as a child in their monthly (I think it was monthly) video program. I regularly received their most recent documentary. I was a voracious consumer of animal documentaries as a young girl--before Animal Planet existed and before producers felt that documentaries were too boring and therefore had to always be "extreme" and filled with non-stop action and sexy personalities (not that I mind Jeff Corwin at all, of course). I was also captured by documentaries about archaeological finds, explorers, and exotic cultures.

But when I went to college my tendency toward purging items I wasn't using was nearing its height and I hadn't watched the tapes in a while (largely, I think, because I knew them all by heart anyway). So I told my mother she could get rid of them. But mom had been the one to pay for these many videos and shuddered at the thought of selling them at a garage sale for 50 cents a pop. So she offered them to my aunt.

Not long after Aunt Gerri got them I realized I sort of wanted them back, so I was very grateful they were still in the family. I let her know, clearly and often, that if she ever wanted to get rid of them, I wanted them. Every once in a while I would get the awful feeling that she might have sold them, but my mom would check with her now and then to make sure she still had them.

Well, this evening we got a call from someone a street to the west of us saying that they had two packages that were erroneously delivered to their house, which had the same number as ours. So we walked over to retrieve them, sort of mystified since we hadn't remembered ordering anything, let alone two somethings. The first was from Amazon and my husband then remembered ordering it. The second was very large and was from my aunt. And I immediately knew what it was. My videos.

Feast your eyes on this:

Words can barely express my joy as I laid 48 tapes out on the coffee table, their edges hanging over all four sides, to take this picture. I remember each of them lovingly as representing a special time in my life, as the fuel that fed an obsession with animals, as the burning ember that would one day become my desire to take up outdoor photography, as the source of my yearning to travel to all the beautiful places on this planet. Such a large part of my vast stores of useless (but interesting) knowledge came from these videos.

I am ecstatic to have these treasures back and I envision a weekly documentary night starting up in our household once Calvin is old enough to appreciate them. I am so very happy right now.

Window into Spring

2010-04-23T09:22:00.003-04:00

Late April is true spring. Birds wake you up with their love songs, sun streams through your eastern windows, and trees fairly glow as the sun ignites their young leaves. And while it's true that some things in spring are big - like the showy white, pink, and fuchsia flowering trees that fill the air with sweet scents - most of spring is small. Tiny baby leaves, tiny flowers, tiny joys. You have to kneel down and take the time to look closely.

Japanese maple (Autumn Moon) leaves stretching their fingers.

Sweet-smelling grape hyacinths. (If you never realized that they smelled nice, lay down on the ground and put your nose to work!)

Pulmonaria (Lungwort) has lovely little flowers that open pink then turn purple and blue. I also have a cultivar (or perhaps a mutant seedling) with white flowers.

Epimedium is used as a dry shade groundcover, but in spring its best attribute is its tiny, fascinatingly shaped flowers. Yellow is most common . . .

. . . but it comes in a lovely reddish-pink as well. These flowers are less than a centimeter across and grow low to the ground. You only see their wonderful structure with your face on the dirt.

This bleeding heart has fresh yellowy leaves and will all but disappear in the heat of summer. But each year it comes back bigger and with more pretty heart flowers (which we pretended were earrings growing up).

My view from my office window is lovely in spring. But to really appreciate the tiny miracles of the season, I have to get outside. And you should get outside too.

A Thrifted Sheet Wrap Dess

2010-04-21T14:39:00.003-04:00

This 1960s wrap dress (Butterick 3893) came together quickly. However, I had some trouble with getting the fabric to lay correctly where I attached the ties and I will have to lose another 5 pounds before it really fits well. But I plan to make this pattern again. I especially like the A-line skirt.

Here's a close up of the fabric, a full size cotton flat sheet I got at Salvation Army for $3. As I put everything together I noticed a few tiny holes, but luckily all but one of them ended up either on the inside of the hem or on the section of the skirt that is covered by the right panel.

Secondhand Providence (or How a Table of Junk Can Lead You toward God)

2010-04-20T12:44:00.009-04:00

Among the many treasures I picked up at our church rummage and craft sale last weekend was a dirty globe that was coming apart at the equator. I paid $3 for this combination of paper, ink, cardboard, and metal. I am a big fan of old maps and globes so I didn't really even examine this one very closely before adding it to my pile of things; I knew immediately that I would buy it. But after bringing it home and cleaning it up a bit I started to suspect that I had a globe from before the second World War.

It featured a united Germany, Israel was non-existent, and the African continent was still largely colonial, French West Africa taking up about 1/3rd of the land mass. Tanzania was labeled Tanganyika and it, along with many other modern-day countries like South Africa, Namibia, Kenya, and Uganda, was part of a vast collection of land controlled by Great Britain. Add those two land masses to the Belgian Congo and roughly 2/3rds of the entire continent was still controlled by European powers.

After some online sleuthing I found that this particular globe was issued in 1941. It represents a snapshot of political realities which were at the threshold of massive and disruptive change. Within the next decade or so, the map of Africa and the Middle East would be completely different.

Last night my husband and I were watching Antiques Roadshow and saw that after that show ended our PBS station was going to show the incredible miniseries Eyes on the Prize as part of their American Experience show. This series chronicles in stark detail the civil rights struggles of the late 1950s and 1960s. We had watched much of this miniseries a few years ago, but the funding had apparently run out and they were not able to show the whole thing. We stayed right where we were on the couch and watched two more hours of television (a bizarre and rare occurrence in our family).

Though we had already seen the two episodes they showed last night (one on Mississippi in 1962-1964 and the other on Alabama in 1965) we were again transfixed by the powerful images, video, and narration. At about the same time some of those African countries were gaining independence from the powers that had oppressed them for centuries, the descendants of slaves on the American continent were fighting for their own freedoms: the freedom to vote (which was effectively denied Southern blacks despite the passage of the 15th Amendment nearly 100 years before), freedom from fear and harassment, freedom to eat, shop, and sit wherever they wanted, etc.

It is hard for me to believe that some of the same racist people, many of them elected officials, who violently oppressed the American black community in the Deep South are still walking around today and have never been called to account for their crimes, and, in fact, feel that they were somehow the ones who had been wronged during the struggle for civil rights. It is hard for me to imagine my parents, native Detroiters, actually experiencing the race riots that occurred in Detroit, locked up in their homes with firearms at their sides in case the mob should come calling for them. It is hard for me to understand how people can believe that human beings are "basically good" when oppression and exploitation and violence are the norm, and are often sanctioned by governments and even churches.

What is not hard for me to understand after watching Eyes on the Prize is why there is still anger, resentment, and pain when it comes to race relations in this country. You can say slavery ended long ago, and you can say that you never owned slaves, and even that no one in your family owned slaves (and I can say all of this with confidence). But the reality is that the systematic oppression of and discrimination against people of different races, particularly the black community in our country, still happens today.

On Sunday we had a guest for lunch, a Kenyan student who came to the US in January to begin his college schooling and started coming to our church a few weeks ago. While we were prepared to ask him a lot of questions about his life and his plans for the future, we didn't expect to get so many questions from him. But during the discussion, we talked about the history and current reality of race relations in this country.

Last week, I guided my Sunday school class through a discussion of chapter 4 of Ecclesiastes and the discussion centered partly around oppression and abuse of power.

The globe, the Bible study, our new friend, and the miniseries. I don't believe in blind coincidence, but I do believe in Providence. And it makes me start to wonder what God is trying to teach me right now, what He is trying to get me to think about. And I will be on the lookout for more signs to guide me toward the person God wants me to be, especially as it pertains to how I relate to those of different backgrounds.

It is fascinating to see God at work. And I know that true reconciliation only comes from Him as He refines and moulds us into the image of His perfect and loving Son.

Pretty in Pink

2010-04-18T22:04:00.004-04:00

That blog post title sounds presumptuous, but I'm really talking about the dress, which I think turned out pretty good. My first time making a collar and my first time actually making clothing using a vintage pattern. The pin I'm wearing was made by an older gentleman in my church and purchased from our weekend church rummage and craft sale (actually, I bought four pins, two necklaces, and belt buckle that I'm totally in love with). Richard finds, polishes, cuts, and mounts stones that most people just kick around on the ground. Perfect for a rock hound like me.

If you like the pattern of this dress and are around my size (or can alter the pattern to suit your needs) you can get it through my etsy shop.

An Evening at Fenner Nature Center

2010-04-15T22:32:00.008-04:00

I do not know these trees
and they don't know me.
This moss-worn log has never been my seat,
a place to rest my weary feet.
I do not know these trees.

I do not know these trails
and they don’t know me.
Underbrush obscures and my attempts fail
to pierce through the leafy veil.
I do not know these trails.

I do not know these grasses
and they don’t know me.
Their whispering rises as I walk past,
a wind-born chorus of laughs.
I do not know these grasses.

I do not know these birds
and they don’t know me.
Mouths that cannot hold back a song
but to me they say not a word.
I do not know these birds.

I do not know these deer
and they don’t know me.
With cautious eyes they watch me spy
and creep a little nearer.
I do not know these deer.

Constructing a Self

2010-04-13T08:55:00.004-04:00

I realized earlier this week that most of my current hobbies were not something I even thought about in high school or college. We think of high school and especially college as a time when you are "finding yourself," discovering what you were meant to do with your life. I think at the end of college I thought, "Yes, this is me."

I think at the time it was. But "me" isn't static and now I find that the way I spend my spare time - sewing, quilting, working at the zoo, gardening, playing with a toddler - is not what I thought I'd be doing. I did dabble in photography in college using my father's old manual SLR. And of course I still read for pleasure (though not nearly as much as I used to). But the me that exists at age 30 isn't the one who existed at age 20.

And I'm quite happy about that.

It makes me wonder what the me at 40 will be doing.

Oblivions In Our Midst

2010-04-11T22:33:00.009-04:00

I grew up with an appreciation for good, loud music. My father's hobby as long as I've been alive has been stereo systems. Listening to music at my house was a daily ritual, an art. From a young age I knew what I was allowed to touch and what was off limits. And as I grew up I was awarded with ever more music privileges as my father saw that I could be trusted (because I knew what would happen if I ruined an expensive piece of equipment...years of heavy labor as I paid off whatever I destroyed).

When I was young, my father was a district manager for K-Mart stores. He dealt with a lot of people and did a lot of traveling, and his way to unwind at home was to sit down in the living room with a drink, close his eyes, and listen to music that ranged from big band to jazz to blues rat pack to rock and roll to the 1812 Overture. This music was always played very loudly on top-of-the-line speakers. When I was very young, it was usually records or occasionally the reel-to-reel (and to this day I know of no one else who had one of these in their home). When I was in elementary school I think we were one of the first families in our town to get a CD player.

When I wanted to be able to put music on for myself, I had to go through rigorous (and repetitive) training sessions on the proper way to handle all the equipment. This is how you clean a record. This is the order you do things when you want to play a record. This is how you clean a CD. This is how you don't clean a CD. This is where that CD goes. This is how you use the reel-to-reel. And I think I generally followed all the rules. I certainly don't remember ruining any audio equipment in our house (although I have been known to cause very expensive damage to cars before I could drive).

All this is to say that I think I have a very well-trained ear, I thoroughly enjoy good music, and I know how to behave when it comes to enjoying music. Remember my dad sitting in the living room with his eyes closed, listening to music? My sister and I always understood that we were not to disturb him at that time. He needed that time to unwind and recharge and he didn't need us making a bunch of noise in the room while he was trying to enjoy the act of listening.

This brings us to tonight. Earlier this evening my husband and I attended a performance of Handel's Messiah at an area church. It was wonderful. Beautiful soloists, full sound from a large and talented choir, excellent instrumentals...just all around top notch. The only thing that interfered with our enjoyment of the performance (aside from the very hard, unpadded pews we were sitting on) was the motley crew of Oblivions who were sprinkled around the audience.

What is an Oblivion? An Oblivion is a person who is oblivious to those around them. You see them all over. They're the ones who change lanes without checking to see if anyone is in the next lane. They're the ones who don't quiet their rowdy children in restaurants. They're the ones who talk loudly on cell phones about private things. They're the ones who text in movie theaters. They're the ones who come bursting into elevators without waiting to see if someone is about to come out.

And they're the ones who whisper loudly and almost continuously throughout performances of sacred music.

These, my friends, are Oblivions:

And they, for some reason, thought that their inane conversation was more important than the enjoyment of those around them. They were somehow exempt from common courtesy in a public place.

You may think I'm being too harsh or too judgmental or too uptight. But I was taught how to behave in public. I was taught that other people were around me who wanted to enjoy things and I was not to interfere with their enjoyment. The world didn't revolve around me. I was taught to keep quiet, keep still, and to dress for the occasion. (Another Oblivion behind us wore the noisiest jacket I have ever heard. She really ought to have taken it off or, if she was too cold, just sat still.) I learned how to sit in one place for long periods without shifting around, whipping my hair around, sighing, talking, fidgeting, or otherwise annoying those around me. And I think because my parents were such good teachers in this regard, my enjoyment of public events will always be tempered by the Oblivions in our midst.

Good public behavior is not a virtue anymore, it seems. We've all had our moments of obliviousness, but we should grow out of that kind of behavior at least by the time we graduate from high school. You can rest assured we will be teaching our son how to behave in public. I hope that other parents do the same. We could all benefit from a little more...decorum.

What I Do In My Spare Time

2010-04-09T15:02:00.009-04:00

I am totally and completely in love with my volunteer work. Every time I think, "Maybe I don't really have time for this anymore," I have another great experience at the zoo and I can't imagine not being a docent. Today I got trained up on handling our small raptors. I've been working with our Eurasian Eagle Owl for about three years, but in the past year we've gotten a number of other birds for education. I now can handle our Peregrine Falcon, our American Kestrel, and our Eastern Screech Owl.

Fun Facts:
The Peregrine Falcon can reach diving speeds in excess of 200 mph and its primary prey is other birds. It grabs them mid-flight if they are small enough. Larger birds it knocks out of the sky then kills on the ground. Peregrines, along with Bald Eagles, were severely depleted because of DDT poisoning in the 1960s and 1970s. Normally cliff-dwellers, there has been successful reintroduction in urban landscapes (since much of their natural habitat is sold off for development) where the falcons nest on tall buildings. There are Peregrine Falcons nesting at the Capitol building in my town of Lansing, MI. In urban areas, much of their diet is made up of pigeons. Peregrine Falcons can be found on every continent except Antarctica. Oh, and they are loud.

American Kestrels (previously called Sparrow Hawks) are the smallest falcons. They are one of few raptors where the male and female look significantly different. The one we currently have at the zoo is just months away from setting the longevity record for a kestrel in captivity as it is nearly 17 years old. Birds in the wild live much shorter lives than those in captivity. In fact, Potter Park Zoo holds a few longevity records, including the oldest mongoose lemur.

Eastern Screech Owls come in two color morphs, grey and red, but are the same species (just like a black lab can have blonde or chocolate puppies). They are about the size of a robin (like the kestrel) but are feisty little guys. Their first line of defense against predators is to remain unseen, so they will sit very still and stretch their bodies out to be long and skinny (so they look more like a branch). After that they will try to escape (our bird was hit by a car - a common injury for owls - so it cannot fly). After that they will try intimidation (and trust me, the one at our zoo tried very hard to intimidate me) opening their eyes very wide, snapping their beaks, and making menacing sounds (though not screeches, usually). And if all else fails they will bite. A lot. Lucky for me, I had a nice thick leather falconer's glove on. And after our little owl is on the glove, he settles right down.

Kestrels and screech owls are niche-switchers, which means they live in the same territory/habitat and eat basically the same thing (large insects, small mammals, birds, and snakes) but they do it at different times of the day so they are not in direct competition. Only one predator can hold a niche at a time. One diurnal (active in the daytime) hawk will out-compete another and the other moves on. But in the same place it can live at peace with a nocturnal owl that eats the same thing because they are hunting at different times of the day.

Besides these wonderful birds, I also trained with our North American Porcupine, aptly, though unoriginally, named Porky. When fed a steady, enticing stream of treats (carrots, apples, grapes, and oranges) and coaxed the right way, Porky makes for a great education animal. He's unusual (porcupines are common, but rarely seen in our urban/suburban world) and really fun to watch. The second largest rodent in America (someone please give me the largest one...this isn't difficult), he has big orange incisors that grow continuously and must be worn down by chewing. He as 30,000 barbed quills that work their way into the flesh of predators. No, porcupines do not throw or "shoot" their quills, despite what the cartoons tell you. And his fat body is covered with "trigger hairs" that act like whiskers, telling him if something is too close for comfort. He makes great noises (like he's offended you're trying to pick him up) and weighs 25-40 pounds. When I handle him I wear gloves up to my elbows and a zoo jacket (that smells familiar to him). His belly is quill-free and you just pick him up like a forklift and put him in his carrier. After that, no gloves are needed and he'll walk around on a table top looking for more treats.

I can't wait to start using these animals in education programs, but first I'll do some more practicing on my own. I want to be totally comfortable with each one before trying to talk about them and connect with students while I'm handling them.

What do you do with your spare time? I bet it's not quite as cool as being a docent for Potter Park Zoo. :)

Note: These photos are not my own. I just found them through Google image search. I wasn't snapping photos while training. :)

Oops, I Did It Again

2010-04-08T23:53:00.006-04:00

More vintage patterns from ebay have been arriving in the mail. Most are from the 1930s. The Vogue nightgown pattern is 1940s vintage, and the last two are 1950s and 1960s.

And though I'm waiting to begin doing a lot of dressmaking until I lose some more weight, I have decided to make one of the patterns from my previous spree (the short-sleeved view on the left) in a very bright pink linen-look fabric:

Perhaps I'll have it done by the end of the month.

In the meantime, I have started hand-quilting my bed quilt in earnest and have 13 of 121 blocks done. Any progress feels pretty good at this point.

The Stole

2010-04-06T17:53:00.005-04:00

Finally, photos of the stole I made for my husband to wear at the Easter Sunday service. I finished this a long time ago and then was waiting to take some pictures of Zach wearing it at church. But when it came down to the day, I had a lot of other things on my mind (helping him get into his robe, choir things, leading hymns, moving mic stands, chasing my toddler, etc.) and when I was seated in the congregation during the sermon, I was totally engrossed in what he was saying and thus forgot to take pictures.

So, I've taken some pictures of his robe and the stole on a hanger and an older gentleman from church was kind enough to send me some slightly blurry photos of the stole in action, as it were, from his seat in the rear 1/3 of the sanctuary. The lighting is such that you can only really see one side of the stole, but I'm not complaining, because it was sunny and warm on Easter Day in Michigan!

Without further ado . . .

UPDATE: A friend and fellow blogger just sent me another photo of Zach in his vestments on Sunday which is a little more clear. Thanks, Dave!

The Family

2010-04-05T14:33:00.003-04:00

So many nice photos to choose from, but here are a few to give you the flavor of what was a beautiful and enjoyable Easter day. (Note: see a later post - when it exists - for a stole photo.)

The Table

2010-04-05T00:06:00.004-04:00

Our Easter table was set with my grandmother's dishes, tablecloth, silver, and serving ware.

Easter is probably the only time that rabbit tray and those little rabbit knives will get used, but that's what keeps them special. Rabbits were one of Grandma's unintentional collections. You know how it goes. Someone gets you one thing that has a rabbit on it and, as rabbits tend to do, they multiply until they're all over the house.

Preparation

2010-04-03T19:26:00.004-04:00

Today has been full of preparation for Easter tomorrow. On the menu:

Orange marmalade and brown sugar ham
Asparagus
Savory rice made with
turkey broth and spices
Fruit salad (which will be brought by my mother)
Deviled eggs (again, from Mom)
Hot Cross Buns (bought from Panera this
year, though I'd like to try making these in the future)
and Raspberry Pie

I've also made up a breakfast casserole to bring to the church breakfast. I still have to dye the eggs for Calvin's Easter egg hunt tomorrow after his nap. And in a moment, now that Calvin is in bed, I'll be setting my Easter table. I plan on taking lots of pictures tomorrow of everyone in their finery (yes, including my husband in his alb and homesewn stole).

There is a movement toward simplification of holidays - buying things pre-made and doing minimal decorating. Why cook and dye eggs and then have to use them up before they go bad? Just buy plastic ones you can use over and over. Why bake a pie with homemade crust when you can just buy one frozen? Why make a new dress to wear when the stores are stocked with them? In fact, why dress up at all? Jeans will do. Why set a beautiful table when those nice dishes and Grandma's silver are so much work to hand wash?

Why? Because the preparation of all these things aids anticipation. And anticipation makes the celebration more . . . celebratory. If we do nothing different for special occasions (especially holy days) then they become just another day. And there are enough of those during the year.

So I challenge you, the next time a special day rolls around, whether it's Mother's or Father's Day, a birthday, an anniversary, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or next Easter, to put some thought and effort into making the day special by taking the trouble to dress up, make homemade food, and set a beautiful table, especially if you have children. They need to see that some days are set apart for important occasions.

When I ask my almost 2-year-old son what Easter is about, you know what he says? "Jesus." He knows tomorrow is going to be different - that he's going to wear a special outfit and special shoes, that we're going to eat breakfast at church, that he'll get to hunt for eggs. Next year he'll understand more of what this day really means, but for now, to hear him say "Jesus" is enough for me.

Welcome, Spring

2010-04-02T19:01:00.008-04:00

The past few days have been gloriously sunny and warm - almost hot. We've spent a simply lovely amount of time outside, enjoying God's creation. I even had to resort to sprinklers today to simulate the kind of rain we usually get this time of year because the ground is bone dry and I want to see some more green growth!

So far, here's what's going on out there:

White violets in the lawn (these are weeds, but I'll take what I can get right now)

Beautiful bright blue scilla is blooming in the rock garden . . . and the lawn . . . and the other gardens . . . let's face it, it's anywhere it wants to be.

Salvia starting to leaf out.

More pretty weeds in the lawn.

It blows my zone 5 mind, but this is actually parsley coming back up from last year. Not sure if these are seedlings or if somehow the roots survived the winter, but this was a nice surprise.

Ah, mint! I can almost taste the minty, sweet iced green tea of summer.

Lady's mantle is popping up all over the place. These are very easy to grow and seed readily. An excellent choice for someone wanting to cover a lot of ground with lovely, soft fan leaves and chartreuse sprays of flowers that look great as filler in cut arrangements.

I think this daffodil will be in bloom tomorrow. We'll see.

I love the color combination on my Creeping Jenny - old burgundy leaves from last year and new chartreuse growth.

Drops of water from the sprinkler filling up my bird bath. I love this bird bath. A beautiful shiny mosaic pattern, easy to fill clean and carry, and I got it at K-Mart for $20 for goodness sake.

What is so very interesting about these photos (with the exception of the last one) is that I had to get way, way down on the ground to capture them. The knees of my jeans got wet and dirty, my hands and forearms got the same, and I put my face close to the ground. What a perfect position to be in during Holy Week. After last night's Maundy Thursday service, meal, and stripping of the altar, and this noon's Good Friday service, I am quite content to cease looking up at amazing stained glass windows and beautiful carvings and put my face to the ground. To move my gaze from the cross to the place of the dead. To see those hints of new life as I anticipate the celebration of our Risen Savior this Easter Sunday.

Taking Stock, Moving Forward

2010-04-01T08:29:00.005-04:00

April. Wait. Really? It's April already? Wow.

April is National Poetry Month and National Quilting Month. In the evenings I think I will read poetry (and perhaps comment on some of it at The Books I Should Have Read). And now that my March list of projects is done, I can focus my energies on quilting my Robbing Peter to Pay Paul quilt while I put off making more clothing until I lose some more off my middle.

A few days ago I realized I would not be reaching my weight goal of 182 by the end of the month, so I went ahead and made my pew cushion. It was sort of an underwhelming project. I thought it would make more of a difference in the room, but hopefully it will still make a difference to the rear end of anyone who sits on that pew.

I have decided, after covering a couple cushions and making my own piping (or welting as it is apparently called when applied to furnishings) that I will soon recover our couch again. In the early 2000s I bought 10 yards of white medium weight cotton duck fabric on ebay for $40 and started ripping the old floral fabric off my second-hand couch. I had no idea what I was doing, but the resulting upholstery job has stood up for somewhere around 7 years. Now it is getting pretty dirty from my son and though the beauty of white fabric is that you can remove the cushion covers and bleach them in the washing machine, the wear and tear is getting to be a little much. So I'm thinking next year I may recover it again and add welting to make it look more professional. With seven more years of sewing under my belt, I think it will look even better this time.

I also whipped together a cute shirt near the end of the month.

And despite not reaching my goal, I am close to it. I've lost an inch off all my measurements and have shrunk my dress form accordingly. And that always feels good.

Frosty Morning

2010-03-30T09:11:00.007-04:00

When I went outside to warm up the car to take Calvin to school this morning, here is what greeted me.

The sun burned off the frost within an hour or two . It was 60 degrees today. 30-degree swings in temperature are just one of the ways Michigan works her charm.

A lone Canada goose greeted us at school. It walked gracefully along the little retaining pond, the rising sun behind it lighting every frosty blade of dead grass on fire.

When I returned home I heard a woodpecker hammering in a nearby tree and I saw a beautiful male robin run across my patio. All day I heard the sweet songs of birds in love.

Ah, spring!

A World Awakens

2010-03-25T11:12:00.010-04:00

Driving into Grand Rapids this morning I noticed with satisfaction that the vernal pools were back.

"The what?" you say.

A vernal pool is a smallish, relatively shallow body of water that appears in depressions in the earth in the spring, fed by snowmelt and ample rainwater. These little ponds dry up in the summer, but during the spring they are an important part of the ecosystem. It is in these stagnant (and by that I mean unmoving, not gross) pools that frogs and insects lay eggs without the danger of them being washed away downstream or being eaten up by hungry fish. Here ducks, turtles, frogs, and dragonflies find food. By these pools red-winged blackbirds and wood ducks build their nests.

I first learned about vernal pools as a volunteer at Blandford Nature Center in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where I led nature hikes once a month, all year round, for Girl Scout troops. No matter the weather or temperature, I spent an entire Saturday each month outside and helped young girls understand and appreciate Michigan's natural world and wildlife. These were some of the most satisfying times of "work" in my life.

When we visited the resident vernal pool in the spring we scooped water into clear cups to see mosquito larvae wriggling around. We talked about amphibians and their importance to the ecosystem and as warning signs of environmental distress. We spotted turtles and frogs sunning themselves then dropping into the mucky water with a ploop! when we came too close for their comfort.

Around the same time of year that the vernal pools appeared there were many other special things going on at the nature center. I would go on the weekends that I did not have to lead Girl Scout troops and pick my way quietly through the forest and wetlands with my father's old manual Minolta SLR camera, looking for things like jack-in-the-pulpit flowers, old galls on last year's goldenrod stems where insects had wintered, creamy white dogwood flowers, wild apple trees in full bloom, white and pink trillium, and delicate yellow trout lilies. While I walked I heard the songs of many bird species, including some rare warblers I never could catch a glimpse of.

Every visit revealed something new to the practiced eye. I knew just where to look each spring for the trees and flowers I saw the years before. I got to know the wild roses, the bright orange hawkweed flowers, the lilacs, the wild geranium, the unfurling ferns. I knew where to find the purple redbud trees and where the spiny thicket of hawthorns stood.

Though there are two nature centers in Lansing, I haven't spent the time needed to get to know them and they hold no special meaning for me. I don't know their secrets and they don't know me. Yet.

As March turns to April and the time of wildflowers begins I believe some excursions are in my future. And I fully intend to make these new places familiar and dear to both me and my son. After all, the boy wants to see turtles and I bet there are some in the ponds and vernal pools, waiting for us to discover them.

Below I share some of the hundreds of photos I took with my dad's old camera. Most of these, I believe, were taken at Blandford (though it is possible that the frog photo was taken at Ada Park and that the garter snake was captured at Ken-O-Sha, a park near our old apartment on 28th Street in Grand Rapids)

Prioritizing

2010-03-22T12:26:00.005-04:00

Sometimes in life we have to prioritize our goals. As March winds down, I find myself in this situation. I have some project completion goals and some weight loss goals, and unless I can find a way to sew while on the treadmill, I'm going to have to let one of them go this month. This evening I will be able to finish the Easter stole for my husband (pictures later this week). After that I will have one more sewing project on my list for March: the church pew cushion. But, I'm going to let that take a back seat and perhaps wait until after Easter to tackle it.

Why? Because I weighed myself this morning and realized that to meet my March weight loss goal (my pre-pregnancy weight of 182 lbs) I still need to lose 3 pounds and I have 9 days to do it. That's one pound every three days. Therefore, I need to dedicate some of my free time to some intense exercising. The good news is that I weigh 185 today, which means I'm halfway through my overall weight loss goal of 50 lbs. I won't reach that by the end of the weight loss contest with my husband, but it's a goal nonetheless.

Right now as far as the contest goes, we're neck in neck. And now that bike-riding weather is just about upon us, he will probably start losing even faster. Not that I don't ride, but I don't usually ride as intensely and for as long as he does. Still, I have to keep up because I decided what I'd like to use the prize money on should I win (nope, not giving it away yet).

The Country Dog and the City Dog

2010-03-20T21:27:00.004-04:00

For the past ten days we have been dog-sitting Max (on the left), whom we have ironically dubbed Maxwell Smart, the sweet but bumbling canine who lives with my sister and her family in the Great White North (aka, Kewadin, MI). When we drive to my sister's house my husband will inevitably ask, "Geez, how much further is it?!" when we have about 45 minutes to go. Max lives in a home with access to Torch Lake that has a large fenced backyard and he sees deer when he's out for a walk.

Max came to live with my sister about seven years ago, a stray who had been picked up by animal control and who was at PetSmart on 28th Street in Grand Rapids, MI. He was a city stray. But seven years in God's Country and he is a country dog through and through. Because he was a stray, he is his own dog, doesn't really obey standard dog commands, and doesn't want to let his humans out of his sight. He also shamelessly begs for food.

Contrast this with Sasha, our country dog turned city dog. We got her from a family in Traverse City, MI. She had been well trained in dog politeness and picked up new commands (i.e., "No begging!" "Roll over!" and "Dance with me!") readily. Her natural barking at anyone who went down our city street (from little old ladies to young women with babies in strollers to the sinister blind man who lives down the street) has generally been quelled and usually she just grumbles under her breath at them now, the mailman being one exception. (Who is this audacious guy who keeps putting mail in our mailbox?!) Sasha allows her feet to be wiped upon entering the house. She has a small fenced yard and sees squirrels when she goes for a walk. She looks ashamed when she misbehaves. She follows me occasionally, but not incessantly. She's a fairly civilized city dog.

Moments ago, Max's parents picked him up on the way home from Detroit Metro Airport. He was excited to see them. Country dog returns to the country and city dog dreams of visiting him there in the summer, when my sister dog-sits for us. While Sasha is up there she will re-dig a fairly substantial hole in my sister's backyard - one that my sister had finally just filled in from last year only weeks before Sasha's visit. She will lay in this hole during the heat of the day. She will shed mercilessly all over my sister's house. She will push poor Max around in his own home. She'll poop all over the yard instead of going back into the woods like Max does. And when we go to pick her up on the way home, she'll be excited to see us.

The Zippies are Done!

2010-03-17T22:27:00.004-04:00

I finally finished my batch of 26 zippy pouches for the church Craft/Rummage/Bake sale in mid-April. One more thing I can check off my March project list! I'm on fire. Last two projects to go: my husband's Easter stole (which I'm starting Sunday night if I can't get to it sooner) and a cushion to go on the little two-seater church pew in our living room.

Regarding cost, what would you charge for one of these (knowing I'm in the state that has been hardest hit for the longest amount of time during this recession - Michigan)? They are all eight inches long and of varying depths. They have coordinating fabric as a lining and coordinating zippers. Do you think $5 is too much?

The "Greening" of My Family Tree

2010-03-17T10:05:00.005-04:00

As I work my way through the past with the help of a couple second cousins and Ancestry.com, I find that the maternal branches of my family tree are hung with names like MacNeill, MacKenzie, McGill, Duncan, MaGill, Cochrane, and Wiggins. These families hail from Scotland and Ireland and came to North America in the late 1700s and early 1800s. But they didn't enter the U.S. through Ellis Island. They made a hundred or so year stopover in Canada - and truth be told, most of them are still there.

On St. Patrick's Day this year I find myself thinking about how just a couple months ago I figured I was largely Scottish and only a little Irish. But when I look at that tree I see that my mother was basically half Irish and half Scottish, which makes me about a quarter of each. But how does one celebrate St. Patrick's Day when one doesn't really drink (and certainly doesn't drink beer) and thinks Shamrock Shakes look and sort of taste like mop water?

Well, I can think about the legend that the first leader of clan MacNeill was baptized by Saint Patrick himself. And I can wear green (though growing up my mother always wore orange because we were Protestant). And I think since it's supposed to be so nice out today, Calvin and I will enjoy the land (as I stereotypically believe the Irish do) and we'll see how many green animals we can find at the zoo.

I look forward to learning about and teaching Calvin about the real reason behind holidays like this once he's older (here's a hint: this one's not about getting wasted but about the spread of the Gospel to pagan Ireland). But I'm really loving this stage of Calvin's life when he's excited about seeing turtles, starts digging in the dirt after watching a squirrel bury a nut, and can only string 2 or 3 words together with his funny little voice. It's going to be a great spring.

Sonnet for a Superhighway in Spring

2010-03-15T11:26:00.008-04:00

Upon a glance I see the tangled web,
A branching, reaching, linking network, still
But for the stirring winds of springtime's chill,
The road for busy hoarders' flow and ebb.

From thrilling heights to ground they flaunt their skill,
Now racing, leaping, gripping, swinging high
Above, the law of gravity deny,
Of derring-do they never have their fill.

Silhouetted black against the sky,
A close-up look reveals their nature true,
Not sleek, but thin, for winter's store is through,
Their stash as bare as trees through which they fly.

So onward, outward, upward they must go
To find the meager rations on the road.