Something isn’t quite as it should be. Can you see it?
Frank collected this egg. He is the biggest fan of our homegrown eggs, and consequently, the biggest fan of our hens. It is actually an endearing trait…he loves collecting the eggs just as much as Nora does, and when he brings them in, he is as proud of them as a kid with hard-won loot after an Easter egg hunt. [continue reading…]
I took pictures that day of some of my garden spots in the wane. And in the rain. The gradual decline in my borders moves me. I am taken by the richly colored remains of abundance and harvest. Maybe I am luxuriating in a certain sort of closure. An aftertaste? Or perhaps just feeling blessed. I especially love how the rose hips and pumpkin collaborate…
Our chicks (see Swamp People) grew into hens. Their down has been replaced by glossy, silky-soft feathers. Except for on their bottoms; they still have down there, making them look like they’re wearing fluffy fuzzy bloomers. [continue reading…]
Well, Chandler married Doug. Which really is a beginning, not an end. My seamstress adventure ended when I handed over the wedding dress and relinquished the bridesmaid dresses, and ran Leah’s mother of the bride dress over to her room within an hour of the wedding. I can legitimately say The End.
Eventually, of necessity, I did focus on my seamstress work, limiting my recesses with the goats and my gardens. Leah (my sister) not only entrusted me with the project that I had so enthusiastically volunteered for, she insisted on paying me for it. Which upped the ante. I racked my brain as I sewed, trying to access any seamstress wisdom I’d accumulated over the years. I measured and remeasured. I dyed (silk for the bridesmaid’s dresses…which was very rewarding, by the way, a pleasant surprise). I lined, double lined, reinforced, installed boning. I had epiphanies (devising tulip sleeves for an entirely sleeveless, strapless wedding gown, for instance). Finally, I took the nearly finished dresses to Leah’s a week early, wanting to be sure everything Fit…yes, Perfectly. Pride before the fall.
Seriously. Two dainty doelings—a Nigerian dwarf (Eugenia Beliza, Genie Belly for short), and a miniature Nubian (Cricket Cherie, after two dear friends). [continue reading…]
Where did the summer go? It is gone; mornings are nippy (snow this morning!); my peach tree stands entirely naked of leaves…and I haven’t told my summer story yet. Actually, I haven’t done much storytelling at all here, for a long time. But I am back now, for good and keeps. With a story, involving two gardens, two goats, four dresses (including a wedding dress), and a wedding.
I will get right to it– Once again, summer was my salvation. I owe it an ode:
First, spring through early summer, my gardens beckoned, dragging me happily from my late winter funk into the sun. I was going to say, the dirt called to me, but no, the dirt and I are still a little bit at odds. [continue reading…]
I have mentioned it before; I mention it again. It is huge, orange (definitely orange; even oxidized orange is still unmistakably orange), dirty, scratched, pocked, dented; in a former life, it worked for the railroad. Its one and only beauty mark is a dragonfly sticker on its butt. Our truck’s popularity as a DIY landscape companion seems to be on the rise in our neighborhood; it practically invites itself along on trips to the dump with friends and neighbors. It is a no-risk companion where dirty work is involved. And it is so dingy and ravaged that new damage blends, slyly inconspicuous, with our monster’s well established character. A friend who’d borrowed our truck for backyard cleanup accidentally drove into it with a tractor; the only tangible evidence of the tragedy was our friend’s dismay. The truck looked just the same to us. As a matter of fact, I kind of wish he’d hit the passenger door; maybe a good smack would fix it. [continue reading…]
EveryDay Bloom: Journal of an Attempt at Creative Living, Dappled & Imperfect. Possibly Ridiculous.