Do you know Windsmoke?

Last Saturday I took one last look at my blog list before turning in early.  All day I had a splitting headache; time to give it up until morning.  At night, though, I enjoy taking a peek at blogs across the world, where it already is tomorrow.

Windsmoke posted, a disturbing Goodbye.  His haiku sometimes is sad, sometimes final; people josh him and he is right back with his riddles.  But Saturday was goodbye until we meet again, in the afterlife.

My God, Australia is big; I don’t know many of us there, and those I do live a state or two away.  And we don’t even know his name.  Windsmoke, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.  “Hello, 911, please send someone to check on Windsmoke.”

If you know him, please leave a note there or here.  Did he join a monastery, or the universe?

Cups on the Bus

A while back Delores at The Feathered Nest announced a Valentine Day give away.  As I recall, the rules were comment on any blog of hers up to Valentine Day and get your name in the hat for the drawing.

I made a mental note to restrain myself from commenting.  I didn’t even know what she would be shipping away, but I do hardly need more stuff; it’s quite fine with me to see “stuff” head off to people who will be able to use it.

I slipped up back there in contest land; I must have had a thing or two to comment about.  My short term memory is as good as gone these days.  One day on my blog she announced I was a winner, keep my eye out for the prize.

And it came today, too big for our big mail box and delivered to the door by our nice USPS lady.  Jan and I peeled the layers together.  First a ginormous shopping bag, to join the pile in the car that go into the grocery store.  We really do that; bring our own bags.

Then, two cups.  And I’m quoting here, “Don’t leave these on the bus.”  Very good, Delores.  But they came preloaded.  With a beverage?  Lifting the lids we found chocolate mint cookies!

Well, the loot is all divvied up and partially consumed. Thank you, Delores.  We are using what we didn't eat.

The ginormous shopping bag, two cups for the bus, sacreficial cookies

Smells suspiciously Canadian to Toby

A day off school and work

Yesterday’s four inches are melting fast today.  Jan saw three bluebirds in the back yard this morning.  They must be passing through; we don’t have enough meadow about to keep them happy.  No rail fences to sit on, either.  My mental image of bluebirds.  The wrens already are jousting for the wren houses in the oak tree. 

I’ve talked to Emily and Hamilton about the sort of summer jobs they might find.  It’s been so long since I’ve thought about more than Cousin Camp in the summer.  Now half the cousins live here.  Always planning, Grandma suggested they could take the week of spring break in March to hoof it around town and see what might be available.

Then Presidents’ Day dropped right into our laps.  The library, where I envisioned Emily volunteering for the summer, is not open today, but they already love Emily, who has borrowed hundreds of books and music CD’s on her six month old card.  I’m sure they would have her in a heartbeat to re-shelve books.

At supper last night I approached Hamilton about making the rounds today, get a head start, so to speak.  That suited him and then a little miffed Emily said she would like to go, too.  “I can get a work permit, Gramma.”  So, the plan for today.

First stop, the big nursery/garden center they can walk to.  Already the sign announces experienced nursery workers wanted.  Apparently enthusiasm helps, too.  They came out with applications.  We went down into the village and they went into the two restaurants.  “Can you work weekends?”  They came out with applications.  We stopped at the golf course, too, but the dynamic duo couldn’t find anyone about, and we came home.

So far this afternoon I have handed over Emily’s social security number, told her the trade names of job duties she had in the past.  Emily worked after school last year restocking shelves, pricing and bagging at a little store near her old house.  Yes, she was only thirteen, so the name of the store will remain a secret.  Her applications are complete.

Hamilton is off at the movies with Sarah. (I have no idea how he acquired a girlfriend on such short notice; especially one who already had a boyfriend.  They both play trombone? Maybe I’ll ask Emily.)  He won’t be done today, but we’ll get the applications back quickly.

I did stop at the town hall to check messages.  There were none.  What road garage but ours would have a line strung from the leaf machine to dry the garage rags?

Blue herons in shades of grey

The herons are back, nesting at the rookery.  We came back from Kathleen’s yesterday, chased by Alberta Clipper number seven or eight, scudding heavy grey clouds across the sky. 

 I told Jan I saw a heron a couple of days ago.  She’s seen one, too, so we came across Yellow Creek Road to get to the rookery. 

The park has made a small pull off area near the Bath Road bridge over the river.  Usually it’s packed with cars that have stopped to watch the magnificent birds, but no so many yesterday.  

Grey trees, grey sky and grey birds.  Click to enlarge a picture for a nice view of nest construction.

Quilts, Quilts, and Rescue quilts

Some of the people in my house are retired, but my sister isn’t there, yet.  Still working.  Jan quilts for her Rolodex of customers.  She makes quilts for us.  We all have warm flannel winter quilts and pretty summer quilts for our beds.  She makes quilts to hang in the studio to give customers visuals of how she might quilt their quilts. 

Of course there are more.  The rescue quilts. 

Jan seldom meets an abandoned quilt top she does not love.  In all fairness, the maker probably did not abandon the quilt, but ran out of time to quilt it.  Heirs and assigns, not valuing the work, put it right in the estate sale, or send it straight off to a thrift shop or Goodwill.  So many unfinished quilts tops find their way into Jan’s studio she bought a separate cabinet to hold them.

Rescued tops, waiting...waiting...

Toby helping

As she has time she puts them together with a backing and batting, gets them quilted and bound.  Jan knows so much about old quilt patterns, old quilt fabrics, old quilt piecing styles, that when she’s done she says she can hear some one’s grandma in heaven, smiling and saying “Look, it’s done!  Someone can use that quilt, now.”

Jan has donated many of her rescue quilts to be raffled for charities.  Many of them have gone to TLC, the Transitional Living Center we make quilts for.  Her rule of thumb:  keep them until she has admired them enough, then let them go.  Still, they backed up on her.  There are a couple of tubs of finished rescue quilts in the studio.

On a recent trip to The Crooked River Herb Farm Shop Jan put her head together with Kathleen and they came up with the scheme to simultaneously fill an empty corner of Kathleen’s expanded shop and fund the purchase of more abandoned quilt tops by selling some in the shop.  That’s what Jan and I did today.

Kathleen watching

Jan displaying, customer watching

A quilt label

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