Take Joy!

Annabelle

Annabelle has left us—we aren't sure whether she ate something poison, or perhaps got hold of a piece of plastic or something, or what . . . Bootsy and Valentine are already eating hay and grain and leaves, thank heaven, so we only have to bottle feed them a couple of times a day. She's taken handily to the bottle; he's not interested, he just doesn't want to be caught and held, but he'll drink some. I think he's pining for Mom more than she is—he was always following her closely, while Valentine was usually off with Junior.

John wrote this last night:

Tiny brown gray goat, you asked only for food, shelter and water. Just to be a goat.

You cared for your young ones as small goats have done for many thousands of years.

Calling to them and feeding them when they were hungry. Snuggling up close to keep them warm.

I tried to help but all I did when you fell ill was of no help. I could only do what I knew to do.

When I saw you were suffering I went down to end your pain. The others circled behind me.

William the great sheep came and stood beside me. For he, too, saw there was nothing I could do.

I told him, "William, my friend, I know nothing else to do." He was your honor guard.

He stood by me when the Model 10 cracked its bark of death and never flinched. Just walked away.

Someday when my time is done, might I have an honor guard as good as this.

Then, perhaps, I will see a small brown gray goat standing at the gate waiting for a hand of grain.

 

The fools today do not understand the meaning in the Celtic poem from over 2000 years ago.

                Bury me at night, in the fields, beneath the stars.

                Amongst my herds, my unseeing eyes.

The small creatures are without deceit and guile. They never betray you.

They only ask to be what they are. Oh, can we not see that man is the lesser creature?

The great flawed one; only the small creatures had no fault found in them.

Yes, Grandmothers as you look across the void, at this one, the sum of you all, know that you taught me well. The old ways are true ways.

I will shed a tear for a small brown gray goat each time I walk to the gate.

Wake Me When Winter's Over!

Kali, napping while I sew . . . if you're awake, check out all the critters on The Friday Ark!

I Forgot . . .

Miss Bella's dress, to match Eliza's—

Ta-Daa! I Am Victorious!

over my own stupidity, that is . . . This past weekend (and the early part of this week), I decided to make Eliza a spring dress. I had this pattern, and I thought B would be nice (actually, I wanted to make C, the jumpsuit, but I haven't had a chance to measure her in a couple of months and I was afraid I'd make the torso too short).

Anyway, I dug into The Stash and found this fabric and this lace—the fabric is the vintage polyester I mentioned earlier (John's mother gave it to me; she'd bought it to make a dress some years ago and never did, and she doesn't sew any more.), and the lace is some that came from Mom last time we were over there. (That would be the time I brought back two good-sized bags of lace oddments, mostly needing to be sorted out and wrapped around something. I spent a couple of days last week doing that, except for a box of eyelet. I was tired of untangling things, so I just sort of folded it up and stuck it in a plastic shoebox, to be dealt with someday when I'm suffering from terminal boredom.) I have no idea how old it is either, but it isn't recent.

Unfortunately, when I was cutting the dress out, I had an attack of Teh Stupids, or something . . . now, Eliza is a good five inches taller than the pattern specifies for her size, so I always have to lengthen everything. . . but did I lengthen this? Of course not. And, if you take into account the fact that the dress illustration shows it above the knee, it would have been just below her butt. Not acceptable at all. It was a big piece of polyester; I could have just cut out another dress, but then I'd have wasted the first set of pieces. (Just so you know, I have only just now, after sewing for nearly forty-five years, become able to throw away all the little tiny scraps left when cutting out something . . . ) So I poked around in The Stash some more, and found this—gauze that I bought a couple of years ago to make myself a tunic top and [obviously] never did, and some more lace from Mom—and made a skirt to go under the dress-which-is-now-a-tunic.  (No pattern; I just cut it to an appropriate length, sewed a casing on one end and the lace on the other.)

Here's the finished tunic—

and here's a closeup of the embroidery I did over the lace on the front seams (nothing more elaborate than buttomhole stitch along the bound edge and french knots in the center of the wheels, but I think it works well)—

and here's the whole thing. I thought I'd never finish it, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. Now I just hope it fits . . .   

No, I'm not dead . . .

I've just been not feeling terribly good, and trying to do some sewing—but I have managed to produce a credible outfit for Eliza, after some falling back and regrouping. Pictures tomorrow, I think, and the whole sordid story . . .

In the meantime, here's a gratiutous cat photo:
Widget emerging from under the side porch, the other day when it was sunny and warm. (Tonight it's windy, cold, and rainy.)

My Pot Runneth Over

Or, "Just because there's no room for me in this pot doesn't mean I'm not going to get into it anyway."

Come visit the Friday Ark—there's plenty of room for everyone!

Things are Coming Up, But I'm Not Sure What Some of Them Are

Daffodils! and something else . . . see that little green plant in front of the fake turtle? I'm sure I planted it last year, but I haven't the faintest idea what it is. This was a bed full of experiments, and I thought most of them were annuals. I guess not.

I planted pansies last fall, after which it immediately got cold and wet and they never bloomed. This spring, perhaps? This is one of three in bloom now. (And, of course, the forecast is for winter ick for the next couple of days—rain, freezing drizzle, possibly sleet—the dreaded wintry mix.)

The Lenten roses are blooming, and have even spread a bit. The new little ones aren't large enough to bloom this year; maybe next.

And, alas, the guineas are out and about also. These are part of the Gang of Five, or Sometimes Six—they fly out of the lot, over the house, and into the side yard every morning. From here they progress across the drive to Rita's field, glean whatever's there at the edge of the trees, and then come back across the drive and through the yard to a spot in the back yard, beneath the bird feeders, where they eat and converse loudly and sun if the sun's out. Sometimes Sam lies in the middle of them, watching; they pay no attention whatsoever to him. When John comes out to feed the chickens, they all fly back over the house and into the lot to eat; then it's back to a wild free life outside! They all roost high up in a maple tree near the garden, and loudly announce any movement below—all night long. John will have to catch them and clip their wings before it gets warm and people have their windows open all night . . .

And the bees are out, too; I saw one in a daffodil, but wasn't quick enough to get a picture. They're working in the crocuses, too. And drinking . . . somehow it never occurred to me that bees drink. Much, anyway; I've seen them in the cat water bowl sometimes in the summer, but look at this:

We have these buckets of rocks sitting in the driveway (I got them from a creek on John's friend Bob's property a couple of years ago, and I'm planning to do something with them. Sometime. Stop laughing!), and they have water in them from the last few rains, and the bees found them . . . isn't that just the neatest thing you've ever seen?

Of a Cat and a Pig

Here are a couple of bad pictures of Riley's pig (fleece and a pattern from Carol's Zoo):

And here is the reason for these bad pictures:

It's so good to have lots of help!

Odds and Ends, Bits and Pieces . . .

All the amaryllises are blooming at once! Aren't they gorgeous?

Especially this double one:

It's actually more coral than this; I had the flash on (because I forgot to take these until late afternoon) so the color isn't true.

There are crocuses outside, and daffodils in bud:

We should have blooms tomorrow or the next day! It's early for them (the ones in the yard won't be blooming for another couple of weeks), but these are in a bed on the south side of the house, where they get light reflected from the white siding.

Rhubarb is beginning to poke up, too; I can see the red crowns just breaking the ground. And the feverfew made it over the winter, too—it's in the middle of the rhubard bed, and must be moved as soon as it's warmer.

The first of the seed orders is here; soon it will be time to turn the chickens back into the goat lot, clean the chicken houses (oh, what fun! I can hardly wait!) and spread the straw/manure on the garden to be tilled in before we plant. There are several wheelbarrow-loads of peed-on straw in the goat lot, too. (Hey—free fertilizer is not to be despised!)

And radish season is coming . . .

Let's see, what else good is happening?

My electric bill went down $20; I didn't use the dryer last month (well, except for one time when the bathmats didn't get dry, because I was dumb and hung them on the back porch drying rack instead of on the clothesline). It's still higher in the winter, because we have a small heater in the wellhouse where the jam is stored, and lights in the chicken houses, but it HAS gone down.

The gas card bill for last month was only $85, down from $125 the month before—I have pretty much quit going out other than the one day I go and run whatever errands are unavoidable, and John doesn't go as far for coffee now (the coffee shop where he used to go every day to meet his cronies is closed for a month or so for renovations—the plumbing leaked and rotted the floor joists—so they are stuck with the Waffle House, which is a lot closer). Of course, it will go up again in May when the tailgate begins and we drive to Black Mountain every Saturday . . . but hopefully we'll make enough to offset the increase.

My hair has finally gotten long enough for me to stick it up in a ponytail! It's not particularly flattering, but it's out of my way, and that's what I'm interested in.

The ginger root that I've been patiently (well, maybe not quite so patiently) nurturing for the past month or so has finally sprouted! If you look very, very closely at the pot of dirt, you may see a tiny greenish pointy thing in the center . . .  At this rate, I may possibly have an actual plant by 2009.

I finished Riley's fleece pig (pink and blue plaid); pictures tomorrow, before I mail it.

There's a doll in the works—not yet, but I'm thinking on her. I have a lovely pile of blue and red prints, and a red and white stripe for her legs. (Also, I found a pretty little blue and white stripe today at Hancock—perfect for doll legs!)

We went to Hancock today to look at patterns (on sale, naturally)—I want to make Eliza a pair of bell bottoms. The closest I could find was slightly flared, so I settled for that until I can look online. When we got home, I cut out her pants (blue and peach flowers and butterflies) and a top to go with them, and a dress for her from some vintage polyester. (Yes, I know 'vintage polyester' sounds odd, but this is some that John's mother had had for ages; it's that lovely smooth thin knit. I remember having dresses made of it when I was in high school, which was longer ago than I am prepared to disclose. She gave me two pieces; this one is a coral-ish small flower print on a beige ground, and looks pretty and antique-y. The other is . . . well, pretty ugly. Maybe it will look better if I stash it somewhere for a few months.) And I also cut out matching outfits for Bella, of course.

I also have a doll body drawn out and ready to sew up, and a little bitty fabric bear (made from the leftovers of Joseph the Rat's jacket), and I'm about to begin working on an embroidery project—it's a tote bag with an embroidered panel on the front; I had gotten everything together back in the winter, and just never got around to doing it. But today I bought a package of water-soluble stabilizer to draw the pattern on and embroider over, and we shall see how that works . . .

The embroidery is my evening project; I don't do a lot of machine sewing at night, for two reasons: one, I don't see all that well at night, and two, my sewing machine is right by the back door and if I'm over there, the cats all take it as license to wander in and out all evening. If it's warm enough to leave the door open, that's fine, but if I have to get up and let someone in or out every five minutes, I might as well just stand by the door and not try to do anything else! So I work on things I can do in my rocker, under the good light: crochet or embroidery, or reading, or holding cats . . .

I've finished half a dozen hats to send to the afghans for Afghans project, and I need to get them in the mail this week, too! (Picture tomorrow also, if I don't forget . . . )

And that's what's going on here . . . and there are always goats, of course!

I'm Hiding!

Ocie among the lace and fabric . . . come aboard The Friday Ark with us to see many, many more critters, camouflaged or not!

The backstory: we went over to Mom and Daddy's the other day, to deliver some eggs and get a piece of shearling knit I wanted to make some sheep dolls . . . of course, it didn't stop there. We returned bearing not only the shearling, but also a bag of fabric (that stack on the left) and two bags of vintage trim (it came from The Attic . . . ). Since I needed to do other things right then, I just stuck the fabric and bags of trim in the cubbyhole under my counter, thinking that I'd sort things out in a day or so when I had more time (and I need to go through the big container of trim anyway, and untangle the pieces that I just stuck back in anyhow when I was through with them, amd wind everything up on cardboard so I can actually find something when I want it, and take out the doll-clothes-sized pieces and put them somewhere else . . . you see why I've been putting it off, don't you?). Anyway, Ocie decided that since the bag had come from a house with strange cats in it, it needed investigating—so she squirmed into the bag backward. I just happened to be standing there, and got out the camera just in time. Another minute and she was gone.