Every day in June #6: Seeing red, in a good way

A visual vignette from yesterday's ride ...

I was heading in on Fowler Road. Just beyond the open fields was a house with three old, run-down cars parked in the driveway. They were all red. As I pedaled past the house, a balding, older man walked down the driveway. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt which were ... red. It just struck me as funny. Then, the next two cars that passed me were ... wait for it ... both red. There is no particular significance in this little vignette, except that the rest of the ride, I started seeing more red cars.

When you notice something and begin to look for it, quite often you see more of it than you realized was there. Like lovely virtues in people you encounter.

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I am back home today. Coty and I did what has become a fairly regular 20 mile ride. Along Hickory Ridge, past the second bend in the road, the cows that are normally scattered out in the pasture were huddled together in the woods, mostly lying down. I've heard that when the cows are lying down, it's a sign that rain is coming. When they are lying down in the woods under the trees, is it a sign the rain will be heavy?

Your mind goes funny places on a bike ride - I should clarify - my mind goes funny places. When I saw those cows huddled together in the woods, I thought of the movie Gettysburg. That was a leap, I know. The cows reminded me of scenes where men are bivouacked in the woods, Chamberlain's men awaiting the Rebel troops at Little Round Top, Pickett's men preparing to head across the open ground in their ill-fated charge. I heard a war whoop (in my head) and imagined cows, leaping to their feet, crashing through the underbrush, and racing across the open pasture toward what enemy, I have no idea. These thoughts flitted through my brain in an instant. You are probably thinking I've lost it completely, but consider this ... it is way more entertaining and distracting to imagine charging cows than it is to think about how your legs feel and how hard you're still breathing after that long hill you just pedaled up. Permit me my distractions, please. And thank you.

And, in case you are wondering, it is indeed raining right now. It is coming down pretty hard. Those cows were meteorologically on the mark today.

Every day in June #5

Let's talk about something besides cycling, shall we?!

The end of May/beginning of June are full of family events. I'll start today and work my way back ...

Erin and Luke celebrated their 11th anniversary today!
Jonathan turned 30 last Friday. Yikes! I have two thirty-somethings now.
Matthew and Kailie celebrated their second wedding anniversary last Tuesday, May 31.
Jonathan and Kandyce celebrated their sixth anniversary last Monday, May 30.

We were (sadly) not present for any of those milestones because those children faraway live in New York state, Denver, and Minneapolis, respectively. 

BUT ...

We did get to greet baby Caroline Harper Pinckney shortly after she was born on May 20! Grandchild #4 for Coty and me. Very thankfully, this little one and her family live in North Carolina!!!

 Now a family of four! Thomas, Kay, David, and Caroline!

Now, back to cycling, etc. for just a moment. I rode today before the storm blew in. The clouds were low slung and dark, the air heavy with the scent of rain. Fragrance and stench hung in the humid air. Magnolia and skunk. I had a tailwind going out Lee Vaughn Road, a headwind on the way back. I turned around when I saw a dog down the road ahead of me. Not worth the risk. Dogs make me very nervous when I'm cycling alone. So, avoiding the dog was well worth the extra quarter mile.

When I got back, we ate Mama's good chicken salad, fruit, and pimiento cheese on celery.

Then I spend three hours sorting old photos ...

 

 Baby me, 1957

 

Baby Erin, 1983 

and Baby Caroline (not an old photo, 

just fun to look at 

Mother/Gramma, Daughter/Aunt, and Granddaughter/Niece)

Every Day in June #4

I rode this morning - country roads out from my parent's house, roads I drove routinely when I was in high school, going back and forth to my best friend Teresa's house. I cycled down her old road, past her old house, and up around the circle, and the memories flooded in. I looked at the window in what was her bedroom and thought of so many sleepovers. Early Saturday mornings while she still slept, I, the early bird, rose and sat at the kitchen table drinking tea with her mom and dad. Very sweet memories.

I notice road names when I ride and find them endlessly fascinating. Burdette, Fowler, and Howard Roads - family names, no doubt. People who lived in the area in the rather distant past. Scuffletown, Copper Lake, and Jones Mill Roads - all places with history behind them. There was a grist mill on Durbin Creek, built in 1813 and later Walter Jones ground corn and wheat, operated a cotton gin, and ran a country store in that place. The name marks the place and ties it to the past. I do not mean to imply that the past was idyllic. But it is a place with a past, good and bad, and the name means something.

Some of the new subdivisions that are sprouting up around here have names like Savannah. What??? We are far from the coast of the neighboring state of Georgia. Was the builder dreaming of Spanish moss and live oaks or perhaps African plains and the wildebeest migration? Who knows. The name seemingly has nothing to do with the geography or history. I find this kind of naming sort of silly and off-putting. It has no connection to anything. (Like my own neighborhood with the British civil parish name of Huntwick and street names like Piccadilly and Buckingham. I have yet to see the Queen strolling with her corgis).

Today, I rode on King Road. It is a narrow, winding farm road with uneven asphalt. I imagine the King family once lived and worked the land here. There is a lovely old farm house that sits back from the road along a bend and I like to think about who might have built that house. Where King Road comes to a T and meets another country road, there is, sadly, a new subdivision, with boxy houses sprouting up like mushrooms after a rain. One day they are not there and the next day, pop, there are houses - or at least the concrete pads and framing for houses and the sound of music blaring to the staccato of nail guns. Anyway, this particular new development is called by the rather regal, uppity name of Kings Crossing. I started to take umbrage with the name but I had to take myself and my irritation in hand and remind myself that at least this name made a nod to the place. King Road was there before. Kings Crossing sits at the intersection. It makes sense, at least. Not like Savannah.

I think about road names, but I also notice flowers; the wild ones: bachelor buttons, Queen Anne's lace, and oxeye daisies and the cultivated ones, deep purple hydrangeas and gardenias. Ah, the gardenias! Together with magnolia and honeysuckle, they are the signature fragrance of early summer in the south. I just want to breathe and breathe and breathe them in. 

Every day in June: Day 3: Carolina Thread Trail

It was a hot one today. In the 90's. Sunny and humid ... Bring it on!

I love summer, love the heat, love sweat dripping down my face, hair and bandana soaked when I take off my bike helmet, and the long drink of cold water afterward. I know most of you don't share this sentiment, but there it is. I come from a long line of southerners, so I suppose it's in my genes.

Today I had to squeeze in a ride between a delivery to Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden and a drive to SC to visit Mama and Daddy. Cramerton was the perfect place to do it. Strava tells me I rode 9 miles. It was mostly a meander.

This little town along the South Fork of the Catawba River feels a little bit like a town that time forgot. It is bisected by the railroad. There are houses with deep front porches and back lawns that slope down to the river; small, former mill village houses along a grid of narrow sidewalk-lined streets in the upper part of the town; a gazebo with rocking chairs right in the center. This was a textile town in the glory days of textiles in the south and though the textile glory days are past (but coming back in some measure, I hope), the town retains the feel of care and community, of place. I told my dad this evening that along my ride I saw at least five people sitting on their porches. Not looking at phones. Not reading. Not talking to anyone. Just sitting. There were young boys riding bikes through the center of town and teenagers fishing off the dock. These are not things you see everyday.

Goat Island Park and the Carolina Thread Trail make Cramerton special. Not many towns have their very own pedestrian bridge across a river to their very own island with a great playground, disc golf course, kayak launch, and fishing dock. Pretty sweet. The Thread Trail weaves together history, geography, culture and the natural beauty of this Piedmont region of North Carolina. It is good to get to know it better by bicycle!

Day #2: Steamy roads

It looked like this streak was going to be no streak at all. I left home at 6:10 this morning and returned home in the late afternoon after a torrential downpour that left rivers in the street. It was a heavy but short storm and the hot streets dried quickly so by 7:00, I could ride.

My EEH suggested I set a minimum mileage goal for any ride to qualify for this streak. I decided that 5 miles was a decent distance. That's a little less than a half hour of easy cycling so I should be able to at least do that every day, right!

After a half mile or so this evening, the rain began to fall again, very intermittently. Just a drop here and there. I heard it on my helmet more than I felt it. Plink ... plink ... ... ... plink. Then it fell more steadily. As the pattering rain wet the roads, the steam began to rise from the still warm asphalt. Why does seeing this make me feel like a kid? Is it the bicycle and the way I can lean into a downhill curve and coast through the mist?

I'm home now, a little sweaty, a little wet from the rain. It is an early summer evening, the heat of the day subsided, the humidity heavy. Lightning bugs blink out by the trees, a mockingbird sings from the top of a roof. I will make a cup of tea and sit on the porch swing and breathe the damp, heavy, evening scent of the Confederate jasmine that covers the lattice below the screen porch. A cardinal will flit across the backyard, bright red. The darkness will come and maybe the barred owls will call.

Every day in June ...

Here we go. I'm taking a stab at writing and riding every day in June. Sometimes writing about riding, but not always. Just making a stab at doing both for a solid month. We'll see. Tonight, some mental pictures from this evening's lovely 20 miler ...

 white faced Herefords, shoulder high in early summer grass,

 a whiff of honeysuckle,

ripe winter wheat, unmoving in the evening stillness, tawny, the color of a lion's mane,

occasionally a malodorous scent - probably a dead possum in a ditch that the vultures haven't completely eaten clean

pushing hard up the last hill on Morrison, catching my breath in gasps at the top

coasting down the driveway and loving seeing a tomato on the vine, deep green chard, daylilies and the biggest hydrangea blossoms ever, in my garden this year

It was a good day. Happy June.

The stats

This week a year ago, encouraged by my Ever Encouraging Husband, I joined Strava. I would not have noticed this fact had it not been pointed out to me by EEH, aka Coty. He loves Strava - all those stats, segments, elevation profiles, energy outpout numbers, effort comparisons and achievements. He uses the heatmaps to find good routes when we ride in new places. He knows how fast he needs to ride to get a PR on a segment and how fast the KOM (King of the Mountain) rode the segment. He is King of the Mountain on a number of segments.

For the record, we even share King and Queen of the Mountain on a segment that is called by the poetic name, "O Pioneers!" Sounds like we braved the elements, crossed the prairies in our covered wagon, ascended the distant, snow-covered peaks and conquered a kingdom. Really, all we did was ride a little bit faster on a not very hilly stretch of Pioneer Mill Road, than the seven other people who have ever ridden on that particular 2.6 mile stretch of road. No one was there to crown us when we reached the end of the segment, no fanfare, no cheering throng. Shoot, we didn't even know we'd become royalty til we got home and uploaded our rides and checked our stats. But king and queen we are, that is until someone else coming down Morrison from Flowe Store decides to turn left instead of right. One of these days, I expect someone who is hankering for ascendancy to the throne will make that turn and we'll be summarily dethroned.

Anyway, what I also wanted to say about Strava is that it is one of the ways Coty continues his longstanding, unfailing encouragement of my exercise endeavors. Instead of "liking" a post as you do on facebook, Strava which is not just a workout log, but also social media for athletes, allows you to give "kudos." You click on the little thumbs up icon on your friend's entry and there it is, kudos! Yay for you! Way to go! No matter what I do, ride 30 miles or stroll 2, he gives me kudos on Strava. I once told him it wasn't necessary - seemed kind of silly if we had just finished a ride together and he could just tell me in person. Which he always does. But on every single Strava entry I've posted, he has, without fail, given me kudos. And I don't think it's silly anymore. It is sweet. And encouraging. And constant. Like he is.

So, here's what he showed me tonight - the Trophy Case page of my profile which I'd never noticed before that tallied what I've done in the last year ...

Bike rides - 1,207.9 miles
Runs and walks - 226.3 miles
Swims - 29.25 miles

It will be interesting, a year from now, to see what those numbers are. It is always my intention to do more, be more consistent, ride farther, run faster, swim longer. That'd be nice, but even if I don't, I know the kudos will keep coming from the man who has faithfully encouraged me as loooong as I've known him!

Apron pockets and creativity

In our Make Welcome sewing class this morning, we were taking a second go at sewing a simple apron pattern. We sewed these aprons last week and it went well, but it was a learning experience. Slow going. Lots of questions. This second time gave them more practice with the pattern and greater confidence in their sewing. What also happened is that their creativity flowed, their own ideas came out, and they designed and executed their own plans.

It's a simple apron, but the opportunity to design pockets the way they wanted seemed to be real victories for a couple of the women. One of them kept smiling and saying how happy she was today. Another worked quietly, diligently, with little instruction, figuring things out and expressing when it was time to wind up class, both pleasure with her project and disappointment that she wasn't quite able to complete it today. She'll finish her ruffle edged, rounded pocket first thing next class.

Another student, a dear Eritrean woman with the most beautiful hands, struggled a bit to finish up her first apron from last week. Her hems weren't terribly straight, her edges not quite lined up. She doesn't like to pin and doesn't seem too concerned with detail, but when she finished, her delight was palpable. "For me?! I keep??!!" she asked, glee apparent in her treble, chirping words.

I get to be the teacher. I get to bring (so much donated) fabric each week, to decide together with our other teachers what projects we will tackle, what skills we will focus on. I get to watch light bulbs of inspiration and creativity shine brightly as women gain confidence and skills and dare to try something different, to experiment with their own ideas and bring them to completion. Today it was apron pockets. Where will their creativity shine next?!

This old blog ...

... is kind of tired and in sore need of rejuvenation ... or retirement. Perhaps it's time to bid adieu to this whole blogging thing. It was fun while it lasted. I met some amazing people via the blog and established some sweet friendships, but they say nobody reads these things anymore. Is that true? I still read blogs.

There is so much going on around here these days but it's very different from the days when five, then four, then three, then two, then one boy(s) lived here. There was a lot to talk about back then. A lot to keep my family up on, and the bloggity blog was a good way to do it.  But my girl, who went off to college long before this blog got its start, and my five boys who were most often the subjects of this blog, have all flown the coop. They're adults now so talking about them is crossing a line I don't want to cross. Their stories are theirs to tell, except of course, when they come home. Even then, I am less inclined to write about our time together because well, I just want to live the moments with them and with my grandchildren. Those moments are fewer and farther between than I would like because we are so far flung, so the times when we are together are very sweet for me.

Still, it's hard to retire this space.

What about a post a week? A bit of catching up. Just about what's going on around here. Bike rides and refugee friends, and teaching and sewing and the (neglected) garden, and grandchildren.

I expect that only a very few people bother to read this blog any more so if you're one of the faithful few, thanks. I'll give it a go for a few weeks and see what happens. I know some of you were waiting for an April Fool's post and I left you in the lurch. Sorry for that. Those April Fools posts are inspirational lightning strikes. An idea pops into my head and the writing just flows. It didn't happen this year but hey, the month's not over yet. Be on your guard. I may yet fool you.

Anyway, if you are still hanging around and would do me the kindness of checking in with a comment, I'd appreciate it. I'm just curious to know who's still here.

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Since I last wrote ...

Coty turned 60. Yikes! Sounds so old and I don't think either of us feel that old. On his birthday, he rode 60 miles on his bike with Thomas and some cycling buddies. He's a strong, fit, 60 years young. Still finding it a little hard to believe that we have reached this age. Well, I haven't yet, but it won't be long ...

We took a little trip down east - Coty's birthday present from me. Three nights at a lovely little cottage in New Bern and four days of cycling. I chose a place that was flat, since I am not in nearly the cycling shape that Coty is. We rode 102 miles in four days and I loved it. Rural, flat, eastern North Carolina. Wisteria and Carolina Jessamine blooming along the roadsides, draping the trees. Pine forests. Tidal creeks. Acres and acres and acres of farmland. Very few cars. We rode through Oriental, the sailing capital of North Carolina. We rode across the Trent River and took a ferry across the Neuse River. When we weren't riding, we were reading, relaxing, walking around New Bern, eating good food, thoroughly enjoying being together ... and away.

I have this idea that we will cycle all around North Carolina in the next couple of years. The deck attendant on the ferry told us how we could take the ferry to Ocracoke for free if we just have bikes, and cycle the island. Sounds fun to me. It's on the list. Next cycling destination, though, will likely be a little closer - the area around Pinehurst/Southern Pines. We've heard there are pretty rides there. Not as flat as down east, but not as hilly as around here.

We rode 30 miles on Saturday with the Ride for Refugees, a fundraiser for Project 658, where we are now holding our Make Welcome sewing classes. We hemmed and hawed a bit on Thursday and Friday when we saw the weather forecast - cold and windy - but I kept thinking that I wanted to it anyway. It would be good to do a hard thing. Turned out warmer than anticipated on Saturday morning, but 2/3rds of the way into the ride, the wind was gusting up to 35 miles an hour. A couple of times, riding uphill, into the wind, I felt like I was standing still. Put your head down and pedal on. It is good to do something like that. To challenge yourself, to feel taxed and tired. It is minuscule ... nothing, in comparison to the hard things that our refugee friends have endured. I kept thinking about that as we pedaled. How relatively easy my life is, how incredibly blessed and rich and full ... I am humbled ... and grateful.



It is late now. Time to go to bed. Thanks for reading. More soon. I promise.

Why "YES AND"

Yesterday I received two beautiful gifts. Well, actually they were in barter for services rendered - I taught a biology lab class to my dear friend's daughter a couple of years ago and I'm being paid over time in exquisite handmade items from Carla, my friend and incredibly talented artist, designer, and craftswoman.

The first gift was a midori style journal. The leather was dyed by Carla, and all the inner pages chosen and assembled with love and personal attention to things I like. The elastic band closure has the word "brave" stamped on it because I explained to Carla my need to be brave in the sewing studio - to step out and try things, to cut into fabric, to explore color combinations and new patterns, to sew without fear. I need that word in other areas of my life, too, as I often worry far too much about what others might think of my choices, instead of trusting God, wise counsel, and my gut.

You can see photos of my gorgeous journal here.

The other gift I received was a leather cuff bracelet with a pewter charm onto which Carla stamped the words YES AND. When I requested those words, she wanted to know why and here are the inspirations for this motto ...

 1) I have been following the work of modern quilter, Sherri Lynn Wood, for awhile. I love her recent book, The Improv Handbook for Modern Quilt. Because her work also focuses on sewing and social practice, I contacted her with questions about sewing and its possible benefit in trauma healing for our refugee friends. She graciously replied and encouraged me with suggestions of others to contact and books to read. Thank you, Sherri. The reason she is an inspiration for my YES AND bracelet is from comments she made on this podcast regarding the ways we influence our work and other areas of our lives by saying, "Yes, but ..." instead of "Yes, and ..."

"Yes, but ..." second guesses and gets us stuck.

"Yes, and ..." affirms and moves us forward.

"Yes, but ..." focuses on the negative, what we don't like, why we can't make it better.

"Yes, and ..." accepts the mistake and sees positive ways we can address or redress it.

"Yes, but ..." stifles creativity.

"Yes, and ..." fosters it.

So, wearing a YES AND bracelet while working on a quilt or designing a crossbody bag for Journey Home or even cooking dinner - really while engaging in any endeavor - sets the tone, the atmosphere for positive, beautiful, brave, creative work.

2) Long ago, I heard this Story Corps podcast. Actually, it was June 15, 2006, the NPR Story Corp webpage tells me. I remember exactly where I was driving (Morehead Road, past the Rocky River, going up the hill toward Highway 29). I also remember that I pulled off the road near one of the Speedway campgrounds because I got choked up and needed a few minutes to dry my eyes before I could drive on. What hit me then and has stuck with me since is the what Caywood says between 1:44 and 2:05 in this interview. A thousand yeses.



3) Finally, and undergirding it all, is my understanding of the overflowing, free grace of God, in Christ Jesus. Salvation is a gift in which God says, "Yes, and ..." over and over and over again in my life. In the midst of problems, mistakes, failures, wrongdoing, apathy, dryness, hurt, rejection, disappointment, fear and every other way in which my life goes awry, either by own doing or the consequences of others' actions, God gives "exceedingly abundantly above all that I could ask or imagine." When I am in the doldrums, I need the YES AND reminder that my beautiful, made with love, cuff gives me.

Thanks, sweet Carla. You didn't know how much was contained in those two little words when I asked for them, did you?!

Back to the pool

Goodness, it's been far too long. According to Strava, the last time I swam was waaaay back at the end of October. Yikes! It was back to the pool today and as I swam lap after lap, I could tell it had been a while but I also remembered why I love going there.

I watch the large clock/timer on the wall at the far end of the pool deck and wait until it is at 57 seconds. Then I start the chrono on my watch and slip into the pool, push off the wall and start to stroke fast. The water feels cold and it takes me about two and a half laps to warm up. The next 20 or 30 seem effortless, back and forth, back and forth, reach and roll, pull, elbow out, reach and roll, pull. I know my stroke needs work. I am slower now since I haven't been in the pool for awhile, but I will hit a plateau after a couple of weeks and not be able to go any faster. I think it's my stroke dynamics, or lack thereof.

Ah, well. I am not a racer. I am a plodder in the pool, but I'm ok with that. The point is to be there, to enjoy the swim and enjoy how good I feel when I'm done. The best kind of tired.

Happy birthday, Levi

Two years ago today, we welcomed this little man into the world. That sweet, contemplative little one has grown into a sweet, funny, tender, loving two year old. Just a week or so ago, he started saying, "Gramma." I think he could say it before then but it got to be a little joke between us on skype.

"What's my name?"

"Papa!"
"That's not my name! What's my name?"
"Papa!" ... and on it would go with a tilt of his head and a teasing smile.

But now, he says, "Gramma!"

Today, I said "Happy birthday, Levi. I love you."
He replied, "Happy birthday to you, Gramma. I wuv u too."

Knock me over with a feather.

Saying hello for the first time two years ago 

and

saying good-bye back at the end of my visit back in November

 

Happy birthday, little man!

A rare, dear friend

This blog, I've decided, is like one of those rare, dear, old friends with whom time between conversations doesn't matter. A week, a month, a year ... it makes no difference at all. You just pick right up where you left off, no recriminations, no guilt, no apologies. You both know that life is full and that the silence is not indicative of anything. It only shows that time has passed, more quickly by the year. It really doesn't matter how long it's been, when the call comes and that beloved name pops up on your caller ID, you answer with eagerness and delight.

With such friends, I always -  we always - endeavor to reach out more often and we laugh at ourselves each time we say those words to each other, knowing that it will not likely be so. Ah well, we love each other and each connection is a precious gift, perhaps made more so by the infrequency. Friends like that are rare and very much to be cherished. I have several and my life is so much richer for them.

You may not feel quite that way about this old blog. But maybe it's just a wee bit like that.

Hello, then. Let's just pick right up where we left off, shall we?

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The holidays came and went. They were wonderful. Five of my boys, three daughters-in-law, and one grandbaby were here for varying amounts of time. We squeezed in and I loved every minute of it. Everyone helped to cook and clean. Baby David had lots of time with adoring aunts and uncles. We played games and because it was so very warm, we sat on the porch. One night, we sat outside around the fire. I didn't take very many pictures. I just wanted to live in the time together without a camera between me and all the sweetness of having my family here. We missed our NY crew, but goodness, where would I have put them. A tent, perhaps?

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I didn't make resolutions really. Just told myself that once the holidays were over, it would be back to regular routines and life giving habits.

Time at my desk first thing each morning with my Bible and prayer notebook.

Cleaner, lighter, less sugary eating. I'm usually quite ready for that by the time the new year rolls around.

Regular walks/runs/rides/swims and a bit more stretching. I've already been to the eye doctor and had a physical this month and I don't take my rather low maintenance good health for granted. It is a gift and I am very grateful.

I do have some sewing and work goals in the months ahead. Exciting developments with Make Welcome and eagerness to learn more, sew more. More on all that to come ...

I also have reading goals for the year. I'm upping my goodreads challenge again, this year to 70 books. Some of those 70 books will be a part of my "Read Around the World, from A to Z" adventure. I expect this will take me several years, as I try to read a book about or by an author from every country. I'm not going in any particular order, but the alphabet is a good guide. I've started with Afghanistan and finished two books already. My library stack is growing.

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My children left over the space of a few days after Christmas, thankfully not all at once. Joel was here til after New Year's so that was good. A slow-ish transition for me from the fullness to the quiet. I love them both. I love pulling the table apart and putting in all the leaves, setting the old church bench for two to sit on at the end of the table, and three French presses in constant use. And I love the small table and clear counters and uninterrupted hours. I miss my children - and grandchildren - and do wish they weren't spread nearly so far and wide. On the other hand, seeing a picture like this one makes my heart happy. Uncle Andrew explored subway grates and chased pigeons and did a bit more in New York City this past weekend with Erin, Luke, and the kids. I would have loved to be with them, but I didn't have to be there to feel intensely happy about that time they had together.

 Happy New Year, friends. I'll be back soon.

And he's off ... again

It's been a fall of travel for Coty. Three weeks in India back in October, and today he heads to China! We got in a last ride before his trip yesterday afternoon. It's been so rainy this week, it was nice to see a bit of blue sky and feel the sun on our backs before it clouded up again.

We ride out on the country roads and pass corn, soybean, canola, and cotton fields. This time of year the cotton is in full fruit. Think of it this way: earlier in the summer the cotton flowered and over the last couple of months that flower has developed into the "fruit", just the way an apple flower that blooms in the spring develops into and apple in the fall. Now, I don't know if it is botanically correct to call the white, fluffly bolls a fruit, but I'm going to go with it this morning!

Here my non-southern friends who may have never seen this, is a field of cotton ...

and here are some cotton bolls ...

and here are two sweaty riders wearing no cotton because it isn't good cycling fabric, one with a squinty left eye and the other with misty glasses standing in front of a cotton field along a country road with, of course, a pick-up truck about to drive by ...

 

We had a good and happy ride. I had a personal best time on one of the hills I really dislike, so I like it a tiny bit better now. Coty won't be doing any cycling for a couple of weeks so when I pack up to go to Virginia, where we will reunite just before Thanksgiving, guess what I'll be taking with me. Yep ... bikes.

Listen while you work

When I sew, when I walk, when I drive ... I listen to podcasts. Here are a few of the craft, maker, sewing, quilting, ones I like:

The Crafty Planner - Sandi Hazlewood, the host, is, as she says in the intro, "a city planner who loves all things crafty." Her podcast leans toward fabric and quilt designers, but includes other types of creatives. Sandi most often asks about creative process and these discussions are often quite interesting.

While She Naps - Abby Glassenburg interviews people in the sewing/quilting/craft business. I like the recommendations section of each podcast where she invites her guest to share two or three recommendations. These range from useful tools to time management apps, to books, and lots more. Abby also focuses quite a bit on the business side of creative work.

Smart, Creative Women - Monica Lee, the host, is a little gushy for my taste, but she has some interesting guests. Lots here on branding, styling, and trends as well as encouraging creative pursuits.

I also listen to LOTS of recorded books using the Freading app on my phone. And then there's Pandora. My most listened to stations lately - Gillian Welch, The Wailin' Jennys, Jill Phillips, The Oh Hello's (thanks for that one, Joel) and when I don't want words, Arvo Part.

Where do the saris come from?

For the last three years I've made quilts for the Sari Bari auctions. The saris are sent to the US quilters and we sew them into quilts that are auctioned for the benefit of Sari Bari. Those quilts are some of my most favorite of the ones I've made in these last few years.

In October, this article was posted on the Sari Bari blog. I loved reading about the process of buying, sorting, and using the saris in the Kantha quilts that the women make.

I have a stash of saris from three years of quilt auctions. I'm feeling the draw to pull them out and work with those fabrics again ...

This year's quilt ... in process back in March/April

Helloooo November Ramble ...

What? November? Whirlwind of a year, but that's what they all say, right? Coty has an explanation for why time seems to speed up up as you age. As you get older each year that passes is a smaller percentage of the years you've lived so relative to your life, each year is proportionately less. That's why they seem to speed by faster and faster.

For example, when you turn six, as my grandaughter Clara did in September, you have lived six years and each of those years is 1/6th of your life. When you turn 60, as my sweet husband will do next March, each year is 1/60th of your life. Even I, who had math nightmares in college, know that 1/60th of a pie is a whole lot less than 1/6th of a pie -  or year, as the case may be. That 1/60th of your life was tiny, it sped by, Christmas seemed to come so much sooner than it did when you were 6, when that 1/6th of your life dragged by at a snail's pace. You all have probably already thought of this years ago, but numbers don't come naturally to me so when he told me this some time ago it was quite a revelation.

Anyway ... it is a rainy, rainy morning here. Pouring. It's supposed to do this all day and I couldn't be happier. I will stay inside and finish the decluttering of my sewing studio, put everything that is currently piled up in the dining room away on the shelves in the fabric section of the garage, finish prepping and send off the latest installment of "Gramma's Craft Club" to Clara, and practice straight line quilting with the walking foot on my old, old Singer.

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It's Tuesday now. Election day. I voted for Town Council. That was the only race on today's ballot in my town. Turnout is always so low for these non-presidential year elections. I heard someone talking on the radio the other day about how the local elections are the ones that really affect our day to day lives in our communities. Who gets elected today will determine how much more needless retail development is allowed in my town, how many more housing developments get built, whether or not a bike path is built or parks maintained, whether or not this community is welcoming to a diversity of people or only interested in attracting high-end development.

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I started watching Paula Reid's Craftsy class on machine quilting yesterday while I prepped the quilt sandwich. It's pretty good so far. I am convinced that Paula's two table method for prepping the quilt and pin basting is far better than crawling around on the floor like I've been doing.

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Sometimes you find exactly what you're looking for! That happened last Friday. I went to a local antique mall in search of something to use for displaying all the scarves that the women of Make Welcome have sewn this fall. Our sister business, Journey Home, had two craft show/sales coming up and we needed something to hang all those scarves on. I looked at old apple orchard ladders, beat up step ladders and other hanging options and was just about to give up. I decided to walk down one. more. aisle. And there it was. The perfect rack.

Dusted it off and filled it with scarves for the Front Porch Sunday Market.

We'll use it again on Thursday evening at the Silent Images, Women in Focus event 

on the Artisan Marketplace.

 

 These wool/tweed/linen patchwork scarves, lined with corduroy, are my current favorites. They're made from a mix of old wool skirts, donated wool yardage, design sample fabrics, and purchased corduroy. I'm hitting up thrift stores now for more wool and linen items that we can cut up and use. 

 

What do you think?

And that rack? When it's not doing duty at shows and sales, it'll have a spot right in the corner of my studio for hanging fabric. Win/win! 

"The Quilts of Gees Bend"

I mentioned this documentary the other day. Finally got to sit down and watch it. Please, oh please, make a cup of coffee or tea and sit down for thirty minutes and watch it. Makes me want a quilt frame on my porch and a group of women who will sit and sing and sew with me!

THE QUILTS OF GEE'S BEND from Souls Grown Deep Foundation on Vimeo.

"All the week, dey be quilting ... house to house, quilting. Dey sit around and quilt and sing, pray, and read de Bible. Dey quilt de quilt, and dey pray de prayer, and de sing de song."  (This reminds me so much of the Gullah that my Daddy learned, the language of the Sea Islands off the coast of South Carolina. Also makes me think of the Pidjin language we learned a bit of when we lived in Cameroon).

"On and on, we learn how to do things ... and whatever we had, we so thanksful."

"If I had somebody to cook, I wouldn't get up ... I just sit there and quilt. I just love all of it."

"We lived the hard life ... we lived the starvation life. But do you know, it was hard but it look like people was happier den dan dey is now ... people got more now, but look like dey ain't nobody happy."

That the way us live ... through wisdom and understanding."

Guest posting at Sew Mama Sew!

I mentioned the other day that I was working on a guest post for another website. The post is up now at Sew Mama Sew. I am so grateful for the opportunity they gave me to tell the story of Make Welcome and encourage others to reach out and share their heart and skills.

Read it here ...

Three for tonight

1. I got home today and the good old cat has talked to me practically non-stop. He has also gone in and out and in and out and in and out, happy to walk around his territory and roll on the driveway, happy to lie in the sun on the deck. He has followed me from room to room. Just now, he is lying on the throw rug near my chair. When I get up, he will jump up and go ahead of me, anticipating where I will go next. He will voice his opinion about where he wants me to sit down in loud meows. When I do sit down, he will find a spot near me and lie down. He wants to be close. He is the doggiest cat I've ever seen!

2. On a completely different subject, I continued my search today for the right sewing machine. I am going to learn to machine quilt in my 59th year and it's time for an upgrade! A few weeks ago, I looked at a really wonderful used Bernina 710. Today I looked at a Brother VQ3000 (out of my price range but fun to look at) and a Juki 2010Q. The Juki is an interesting machine. It only sews straight stitches, but my can it fly - up to 1500 stitches per minute. Whew! It is also very sturdy - really almost an industrial quality machine. It comes with a heavy duty walking foot and can sew through just about anything. I still want to look at Viking and Janome machines and read some more reviews. Anybody out there have a recommendation? I don't care about embroidery features but I do want a wider throat for ease in quilting larger quilts.

3. Finally, I'm looking forward to watching this video about the Gee's Bend quilters. Thanks to Kristin Nicholas for posting the link.