Sophie’s Multiple Personalities

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130401 Sophie & Chester

 

When we got Chester it became clear right from the beginning that Sophie did NOT like him, not one little bit.  They initially had a huge fight over food where Chester bit and pierced her ear.  It had to hurt but Sophie is such a drama queen that you would have thought she was near death.  As the months went on she would continue to attack him for no reason (at least that we could see).  I then started taking just her and Chester to Rowe during the week and they seem to have bonded.  We’ve had Chester for a year and a half now and Sophie is tolerating him and at times will even play with him.  Monday we were driving from Rowe to Enfield and this is what I saw in the back seat.  Since it was April 1st I’m thinking this was some sort of joke.

Gratitude

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3 Adirondacks

 

So often we go through our days (and lives) never taking stock of what we are truly grateful for.  There is so much around us that we take for granted – blue skies, the flowers always coming out of the ground in the spring, the birds singing.  I think it’s really more than that.  We need to be thankful for the people around us that have come in and out of our lives at different points.  There are things that happen often when people are behind the scenes that you never give a thought to but they have a tremendous effect on who you are. These can be people you have never met but are tangled into life as you know it.  Sometimes you are given very special gifts that remind you things are not what they appear to be or there is some great underlying plan.  They may seem like grand coincidences but as you delve deeper you find that maybe this was the plan all along.

Someone I have never known said thank you to me yesterday for something I did over forty years ago. It was no small act at the time but I had rarely thought about it from her perspective over the years.  They say time heals all wounds and to some extent that is true but sometimes all it takes is a thank you to help someone to fully heal.  Look around you at the people in your lives and say a silent thank you or one aloud for how they have influenced your life.  Everyone will be better for it.

Boiling Sap

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130331 First Boil

 

I wish I could send the smell of boiling maple syrup to everyone reading this post.  It is truly my favorite part of making it.  You are engulfed in maple steam the whole time, it’s wonderful.

Easter Sunday was the first day Bill and I boiled sap with Russell.  Bill and Russ had gathered the buckets the day before and the reverse osmosis machine had done its thing while we shared an Easter dinner with family.  We lit the fire at about 3:00 and finished at 5:30 making 8 gallons of syrup.  Russ says he needs more taps now that he has the r.0.  I think he’s right.  Having so much of the water removed from the sap before we start to boil has cut the time to make syrup in half.  We talked about how boiling used to take us hours.  We’d start at 2:00 in the afternoon and maybe, just maybe be cleaning up at 1:00 in the morning.

There have been so many improvements in the equipment over the years that just make it easier than it used to be.  When we sugared years ago the men that boiled could tell when it was ready by how it flowed off of their scoops.  Now there are so many different ways of measuring the sugar content of your syrup I think the art of making syrup may be lost, now it’s manufacturing.  Well, almost.  It’s still a lot of work.

So after canning up our hot syrup and taking it away we got a call from Russell telling us he’s picking up all of the syrup we’d brought away with us – factory recall.  It was cloudy so it would have to be heated and re-filtered.  We were running blind in the filtering department with vague instructions Carmen had left behind when she went to work (she’s the expert).  So back it went and our anxious customers will have to wait another week for their dose of fresh maple syrup.

A Eureka Moment

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130328 Weaving (1)

 

Last night’s weaving was a revelation to me.  I’ve been doing a sampler in Summer and Winter and because I put on a 3 yard warp I decided I would weave a couple of runners with different treadling to help it all sink in. I have to admit I am such a novice weaver that until last night I had a slight grasp of what I was doing but truly didn’t really understand the structure.  Last Sunday Pam held a class on drafting and we also had to do our own draw downs on graph paper.  I am amazed at how hard I have to think to make the design part work.  I’m sure that after I do this a while it will be easier.  The class was excellent and I came away with a much better understanding of structure – how the warp and weft work together to make the desired pattern.

A couple of weeks ago I was weaving the beginning of this pattern, I had done about 2 repeats then left it for my next session.  When I got there last night it took about 15 minutes to just figure out where I’d left off.  I didn’t have a real draft of what to weave so I struggled to get going and REALLY struggled when the pattern had to change.  After weaving and unweaving I finally decided I would look (really look) at what I was weaving and what I wanted it to do and write my own draft – at least the treadle part.  I figured out each change by raising different sheds to see what they’d do and wrote it down with whatever repeats I thought would work.  Eureka!  I wove the next full repeat and it worked exactly the way I wanted it too.  This is EXCELLENT – heh, heh.

As I was weaving along I had to take a couple of photos – because I love the way it looks – I could just photograph it all day long.  I also wanted you to see that the back of the piece is the exact opposite as far as color and pattern.  Weaving is very cool.  I was also thankful that all I had was four treadles – with anymore I may never have figured it out.

130328 Weaving (2)

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Sunrise 130327

 

6:30 this morning this is how it looked toward the back forty.  The only place where you can see bare ground is the driveway.  The difference is how it sounds.  Spring is here, the birds know it, they are all singing their spring songs.  The woodpeckers are all around rapping away at the dead trees. They have all returned from some warmer climate to sing spring in.

Bill doesn’t understand why I sleep with the window cracked open this time of year.  I’m a very light sleeper and there is nothing that compares to having the birds sing me awake at dawn.  As the sun is coming up their songs build to a crescendo.  By the time it’s 10:00 they’ve settled into whatever they do for the day but there’s nothing like dawn in a quiet country meadow.  When I was a kid I used to love to sleep in a tent out in the yard just so I could hear that.  The sun would come up and heat up the canvas (yes, before nylon) with the birds singing away.  I’d open the flap to see the dew rising over the grass and smell that sweet smell of morning.  Then I would just sit and listen to the birds.

While there’s too much snow to sleep outdoors right now each morning you can walk out early and just be quiet and listen.

On Process and Product

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IMAG0449

 

The little afghan in the photograph I crocheted in 1972.  I was part of a group of women who were all crocheting at the time.  It is small, delicate and I love the way the colors played together.  A baby blanket for any gender.  The funny thing about this is I think it is the ONLY thing I have ever crocheted (at least to completion).  I liked making this because the motifs were easy and mindless, that’s everything I love about some crafts.  I love the feel of fiber in my hands, being drawn through my fingers.  Whenever I begin a knitting project now the one thing that makes a difference in how often I pick it up is the texture of the fiber.  A friend(?) once told me I was like Lennie in Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men because I loved the feel of soft things, of fur and fiber (and I played with my hair obsessively at the time).  To this day I think about that remark and feel like I may have a better understanding of Lennie’s phyche than many people – not necessarily a good thing.

I do a lot of things with my hands.  It’s my way of thinking, relaxing, calming down when I’m stressed, working through problems.  I love making beautiful things. My projects have become much more complicated as I age.  I’m not one of those people that could knit the same sweater more than once.  The little crocheted afghan will never be replicated, I made it, it’s done, it’s over.  I’d have to say that probably 70% of the projects I finish I give away.  They are often made with someone in mind and if said project lives up to my perfectionist standards off it goes.   That crocheted blanket was made with someone in mind but the window was missed in giving it to him.  It’s amazing to me that I still had it since I’d moved so many times from 1972 on.  Different lives, different places, different people, just the flow of time.

I recently reconnected with the intended recipient of that blanket and gave it to him.  I thought that since I had been carrying it around with me so many years I would miss it when it was gone.  You know, it was a relief when it left my hands into his.  I felt a little foolish in a small way giving a 41 year old man something I’d made before he was born but it also felt like it had made its way home.

Robyn Spady in this months Handwoven magazine writes that “we make our own legacies when we pass along the items we create.”  I really think that’s true.  I have a legacy of things created by my mother, grandmother and great grandmothers.  They all mean something to me when I look closely at them and imagine their hands working the stitches.  I have their creations and know that for them it really was the process as well.  In the back of my mind I hope the recipients of my work will someday treasure them as much as I have the things left to me.  Maybe it will inspire them to create something of their own and pass it on.

Waxing Philosophical

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Sunrise Winnie

Sunrise, Bear Island, Lake Winnipesaukee

I rarely quote anyone in my blog,  I like my words to be my own but this morning I read this and thought “Hmmm, this is so true”.

“All human beings have three lives: public, private, and secret.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Gabriel García Márquez: a Life

I would add to this that our lives are compartmentalized in many different ways.  We are different people to and with different people and I might add we continue to gather them throughout our lives.  I can’t speak for anyone else but this is why I orchestrate any gathering at my home carefully because I’ve found when I group family and friends from different aspects and times of my life I can’t cope and become a rather bad hostess.  It becomes chaotic to me (and I want to hide in a rather quiet room somewhere).

Recently I had all three of those lives – public, private and secret – come crashing together.  Rather like a car crash.  I can’t say that I’m on life support but it’s been a blinding whirlwind of a ride.  On this crazy ride I have to say that I am surrounded by the most awesome people – friends, family and new found.  I’ve made some good choices in my life and I was just reminded of it in a very real way.

Look around you, see the people that are going on this journey with you, think about the ones missing or are gone.  There are no coincidences in life, I’m convinced.  Everything happens in its own time and for a reason.

Happy First Day of Spring

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Spring

 

I photographed this as I went out the door to work this morning.  It’s a little deceptive because these bulbs are under a cedar tree so the snow didn’t really accumulate there.  It’s nice to see they don’t care.

I could do without the snow now.  I’m over it.  I know there won’t be another snowshoeing day until next year.  We will just have to contend with cold, slush and ice until it finally warms enough for it all to go.  I love spring, the warming of the earth, going through the perennial beds to see what coming up and where.  The spring bulbs are the first to poke their heads up.

These daffodils are everywhere.  The photograph was taken in Enfield but there are hundreds in Rowe.  They started out as a pot of 12 bulbs that Mabel gave my sister when she was in the hospital for surgery during the blizzard of ’78.  Sue planted them in a flower bed around the patio in Rowe.  Over the years they’ve been dug up, divided and moved everywhere.  There are hundreds that bloom around the patio and now in other gardens.  They are over the bank going to the back forty because that was my mother’s mulch pile years ago.  I’ve given the bulbs to people all over New England and moved some to Enfield.

I think that’s my favorite part about perennial gardening – giving plants away and getting plants from other gardeners.  We have peonies that came from my third grade teacher’s garden, irises from my mother’s best friend.  I have a gas plant that came from an abandoned garden center in Enfield that has moved with me three times.  They are all beautiful in bloom but for me the true beauty is the reminder of gardeners that I loved that are no longer here.

Dyeing for Dragons

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DyeIt always amazes me how one craft leads to another, then to another.  A few months ago I wrote about a dragon rug that I wanted to hook.  The design has been enlarged, next I will transfer it to the backing.  The problem with this project (and the fact that I am kind of a control freak) is the only way I can hook this the way I envision it is to dye my own wool.  I’m not saying that’s a bad thing because it’s something I’ve had a passing interest in.  This project just gave me the push to do it.

I’m not unrealistic in thinking that somehow this will magically be an easy thing to do but really the whole thing seems like a lot of fun to me.  Mixing colors, measuring, the accuracy of it all – I love that sort of thing so it will just add another dimension to my crafting abilities.  You can never know how to do too many things, right?

Yesterday I mixed up my basic colors, this coming weekend (or before) I will start with a simple recipe so I can get a feel for what it does – then it’s off to the races!

The dragon rug I envision is so much more than hand dyed wool – it’s hooked with sparkle and surface design and topped with a hand blown glass eye.  Visualizing this project has been more fun than any I’ve done in a while.  I want to do Mer’s drawing justice.

121202 Rug (3)I wonder if she visualized this in color as she drew it?

Culinary Experiment Revisited

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corned-beef-cabbage

 

St. Patty’s day is a memory and so is my corned beef and cabbage.  I finished corning that 6 pound brisket of Heath beef last Wednesday and wrapped it to wait until Sunday afternoon.  I’d heard that a home made corned beef tastes so much better than something you buy already processed but honestly I wasn’t prepared for how truly wonderful this was.  Maybe it was the beef we have been eating, you know grass and sunshine kind of beef.  Maybe it was that very slight hint of cinnamon that came through from the brine.  The texture was perfect, the taste divine.  Makes you think about eating a nice corned beef more than once a year.

Now there is that problem with only having 2 briskets per side of beef.  Hmmmm, I may have to trade some steaks with Russell for another brisket.  It was that good – ribeyes for brisket, yes.

I highly recommend anyone trying this.  It probably could be categorized as slow food.  You have to plan at least a week ahead but it is incredibly easy to do, in fact I will never buy a corned beef again.  I posted the recipe I used previously and will freely admit that instead of making my own concoction of pickling spice I used the jar I had in the cupboard I normally use for bread and butter pickles.  I can’t imagine that creating my own spice concoction would have made a huge difference but you never know.  Next time I will try that.

Now onto pastrami!