She called one day to announce that she is going to a winter formal (imagine a winter formal in Hawaii), and she wanted me to ship “The Cream Satin” from a past formal out to her. “I looked on your blog but I couldn’t find it anywhere,” she lamented.
I think I understand the lament. Girls want further proof of their own prettiness. [continue reading…]
I bought the jeans for Nora last year at Target. That’s thrifty, but also a little homogenous. Not unique (which is ok—after all, the person standing in the jeans is plenty original). She looked darling in them, and still does…even though initially I bought them a little too big, hoping she’d be able to wear them longer (more thriftiness). Alas, she wore holes in the knees, just when they began to fit perfectly. Which shouldn’t surprise me–at least half of her playtime is spent living (galloping, pouncing, slithering, stalking) on her knees. There is lots of knee time in Wonderland. Which isn’t thrifty so much as it is delightfully free spirited. You might say…. original. I just had to point that out. That sweet connection. Back to the jeans—
showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa- aka butterfly weed) grows wild here in Northern Utah. Wildflower, or weed? Not sure; I should look it up. I’m actually more in favor of its being a weed (let’s just call it that, then), with the same disposition towards immortality (or at least self perpetuation) that is native to all other weeds. The more the merrier! [continue reading…]
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 Their down has been replaced by glossy, silky-soft feathers.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.
EveryDay Bloom: Journal of an Attempt at Creative Living, Dappled & Imperfect. Possibly Ridiculous.