Monday, May 16, 2011

What I did today:

in somewhat of an order, but not really;

  • looked at baby chicks in the incubator that hatched overnight
  • went back to bed and snuggled my son
  • drank a cup of coffee and checked email
  • took pig slop to pigs
  • took pictures and video of Auntie Jenn and Ed and Eddie & Dillion and Andrew ride motorcycles in the driveway
  • fed and watered chickens
  • made horse buckets
  • collected eggs
  • coo'ed and awe'd at baby Xander and talked to my sister in the kitchen while we swatted at flies
  • made sausage-egg casserole with lots of veggies in it
  • talked to Dana and Paula and the new puppy
  • hung laundry on the line
  • kissed baby Xander
  • did dishes
  • did more laundry (but did not put away any of it)
  • ate leftovers
  • did more dishes
  • hung out with Xander while Auntie Jenn rode motorcycles with Ed and Eddie
  • messed around in the barn topping off feed and water
  • got a shower!
  • Becky, Steve and the kids came over and visited for a while
  • Jim Bowles came over and visited for a while
  • met Aunt Betty and her daughter Katrina at the fence in the chicken pasture - talked to them for a while and they gave me a catalog to one of the coolest places I've never been
  • had a full-on conversation with a three month old 
  • went over to Becky and Steve's for pizza and conversation, some ridiculously funny movie(?) and then came home
  • told Xander he was a trooper for staying up so late and had another great few minutes with him.  He is such a happy baby!  So happy to have my sister and nephew here.
  • forgot to  mention the coffee I had at Becky and Steve's which is why I'm awake.  While everyone else is asleep.  And I'm here.  Writing this.

It's ALL good.

Sunday, May 1, 2011


There is something about a quilt - handmade, planned, preserved, and well-used - that makes me wish I had a hundred of them.  

And when they hang on the line, patiently - soaking up the sun - I want to stare at them all day and ponder:  whose hands pieced those puzzles together, and for whom?  

Yet they are silent, standing ready for any kind of duty whether an impromptu front yard picnic, or farmers market table covering, or a chilly spring night covering.

Especially connective for me was when, in my English Literature class we read "A Jury of Her Peers," by Susan Glaspell and then another touching and poignant story within "Everyday Use," by Alice Walker.  Both of these works of literature played upon a quilt.  

The pieces of fabric, however tattered, held together by threads -however steadily or crazily stitched, are so telling of the nature of our lives.  And sometimes, our quilts, much like our lives, aren't quite pieced together like the picture we have in our minds.  

But, indeed, this is the beauty of a mismatched and hither-thither quilt.  And the beauty of a life that was once planned to be a solid color, or black-and-white, even, that is now the many pieces and colors of a life unscripted.  Even the worn and tattered edges hold a certain beauty, no matter the light.

What is this leisure time of which you speak?

my grateful button