I do a lot of thinking while I work with my hands. And now that summer is finally upon us, I intend to think myself silly contemplate quietly while I complete the pillows you all so kindly weighed in on. I’ve also got some thinking opportunities swirling around my head in the form of Anthropologie copycat projects, but we’ll see if I ever get to that level of rumination. For now, I’ve been busying my fingers finishing a merino wool/alpaca cap for my man. Yes, I realize it is almost 90 degrees out, but I figure if I do a few stitches a day, he might actually get to wear it next Christmas. With a gazillion single crochets stitched by my amateur fingers, I am sure I will log a hundred hours and have the world all figured out in my head by the time I’m through. Number 1′s also […]
Sometimes a girl needs inspiration like this… …to get busy making pretties like these… Make your own, or get them in the shop! Look around today; there’s inspiration everywhere.
The first fruit of our garden is brought to you today by a little poem: The Detested Radishark, by Jack Prelutsky: In the middle of the ocean, In the deep deep dark, Dwells a monstrous apparition, The detested RADISHARK. It’s an underwater nightmare That you hope you never meet, For it eats what it wants, And it always wants to eat. Its appalling, bulbous body Is astonishingly red, And its fangs are sharp and gleaming In its huge and horrid head, And the only thought it harbors In its small but frightful mind, Is to catch you and to bite you On your belly and behind. It is ruthless, it is brutal, It swims swiftly, it swims far, So it’s guaranteed to find you Almost anywhere you are. If the RADISHARK is near you, Pray the beast is fast asleep In the middle of the ocean In the dark dark […]
The baby came in from the backyard, and asked to take his shirt off….because he’s one of them. And because Number 1 does it… …Number 2 does it too… …as does Number 3… …followed by Number 4, who is one of them. More sweet than tough they are.
I offered the biggest, most immaculate strawberry I’d ever seen to Number 4 one morning… …his chubby little fingers explored all the intricacies of the delicious gem… …and after much exploration, he sunk his teeth into it, bottom first… …all conversation ceased as he reveled in every bite… …juice dripping down his chin… …and sticky little hand on my knee… …and as the last bite barely fit in his mouth, he immediately signed “please” for another. Simple pleasures of watching him savor a strawberry.
My multi-hat wearing husband is a bit anachronistic– always preferring an old (if not ancient!) book over the internet any day of the week. So, you can imagine my surprise when he sent me a link to his new blog, complete with his first (and hopefully not last) post! My husband has a way of thinking and communicating things like few people I know, which is why I’ve always thought him a potentially wonderful blogger…er, minus the part where he avoids the internet. I’m really hoping he will find the desire (and the time!) to post semi-regularly. He really ought to share all that amazing stuff that rolls around in that head of his. Why the name? Just a little tongue and cheek metaphoric reference to the giver of fire in Greek mythology. So, please give my sweet man a warm welcome at The Promethian Chronicles, Or, at least send […]
A quick survey among friends and family would reveal that at this very moment, someone you love is enduring a trial. Perhaps I am someone you love. Several weeks ago I shared with a friend, an older woman in the faith, of how I am consistently pursuing a new area of obedience in my life—an area that has been developed for years in hers. Her response: “You know what’s coming right? Trials and suffering.” She was right. And I was prepared…sort of. As a follower of Christ, I so often think I am fortified for trials; and yet, I’m somehow always caught off guard–surprised even–that my faith might be refined and my trust in Him tested. I recently reached for a pen while listening to a message by John MacArthur on the radio, and jotted this down: The worth of a soldier is never realized in times of peace. This […]
Does anyone else feel extreme satisfaction in perfectly peeled hard boiled eggs? I’ve only recently mastered it with any consistency. I know it’s strange, but it’s so rewarding for me. If done right, the ease in which the peel comes off an egg gives a sense of predictability in this capricious world we live in. While alternatively, a batch of eggs that does not peel easily results in much gnashing of teeth. {Yes, inordinate value placed on an egg.} As a side note, did you know that tuna salad is delicious with chopped hard-boiled eggs? {I also add a touch of horseradish, but any more information than that and I’d have to kill you. That, and I’d have to remember what I actually put in it.} So, if you have a craving for deviled eggs, egg salad, scotch eggs, cobb salad, or just a plain ol’ hard-boiled egg, I’m here […]
Everything’s all abloom in the backyard. And, as flowers are beauties today and memories tomorrow, I’m capturing their debut… …an Abraham Darby hybrid rose, …and another in full bloom, …an Oyez iris whose cameo is brief, …and my eccentric new dahlia that soaks up the sunshine, …the Ladybanks roses that provide pretty shade, …and whose dainty blooms come without thorns, …an Olympiad hybrid rose that’s ready to make a full entrance, …fragrant Stock that waft such sweetness, …and, while some blooms come inside, …some can’t help but keep on dazzling with the cast out back.