a needle in my hand

I consider myself a jack of many trades, a master of nothing. 

Too many interests, handcrafts and arts I like to do or at least want to learn how to do. With the varied projects laying around my home, sometimes I get discombobulated just attempting to decide what I want to work on:

•  the hemstitched napkins for Claire, 
• the knitted tea cozy, 
• Charlottes' Easter dress, 
• the pencil case birthday present for Charlotte's friend, 
• or embroidering on the crazy quilt table runner.

 I will not even go into the new projects I am planning to begin.

Today I went to a fabric sale and could not refuse the opportunity to add to my stash of gorgeous fabrics, it only makes the projects grow to even higher realms, and to add to this, a friend gave me a stack of some old Sew Beautiful Magazines. 

More decisions. 

Daydreaming never seemed so good.

Friday thrills

Thrilled that Friday has arrived.

This morning I began a pot of  tomato soup to be served as Friday lunch. One of the good things about this soup is all it really requires is a can of tomatoes. Any other type of produce can be thrown in and will produce a tasty soup. Though onions are probably weighty too. I like to always toss in a cube of basil from my freezer at the end of stewing, and allow it to simmer before processing.

Alan will be returning for spring break either later today or tomorrow, and since his bed was dismantled for Daddy's hospital bed, the room had to be put back in order.  Clean sheets were stretched across the mattress that had been resting against the walls in the office.

A normal day of schoolwork with Classical Conversation review and being assured Rose had completed her week's assignments.

And  beams of sunshine gushed into my sunroom this morning creating a warm sense of lemon drops after two days of cloudiness and torrential bouts of rain yesterday.

And did I mention it is Friday?

Have a fantastic Friday and supper weekend!

Puffy Maine Pancake

While watching Martha Stewart's television show many years back, I jotted down a recipe she was making that day on a scrap piece of paper.  Then one Saturday morning I made it for my family. Since it was a keeper, the recipe was then transposed on a recipe card and filed in my recipe box. Do any of you still own a recipe box?

It can be made in a jiggety-jig, which helps for those quick breakfasts when desiring a little something extra.

2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup flour, sifted into the eggs
pinch of salt
1/2 cup milk
 pinch of freshly grated nutmeg

Gently mix together. Heat 1 tablespoon of butter in iron skillet. Add batter and bake in preheated  425 degree oven for 10-12 minutes. DO not overcook. You want it to slide out of the pan.

Dusting with confectioners sugar while warm, tossing in some fresh berries, perhaps you prefer jam, a little maple syrup, or maybe all of the above.

The most difficult choice you have is to decide whether to make it or not...I can help there and suggest that you do.

Brioche a' Tete

 There are some things I must recede to and put on my to do list. Sometimes it will just take months, and I mean months, before it possibly happens. After baking and enjoying boule bread many times from the book, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day,  I had literally read and reread the recipes for the sweet bread recipes with hopes and plans of trying my hand at baking a few of them.

My first endeavor was the brioche a' tete. Served warm from the oven with raspberry jam spread across its buttery middle, heavenly ambrosia! If you believe butter makes everything delicious, as I seem to think, than the amount of butter found in this bread dough will thrill you from just reading the ingredients.

forsythia annoucement

32 degree mornings, yet the forsythia bloom.

I am convinced there is a lesson here.

They were snipped one afternoon, placed in a clear vase and set on the marble- topped table to announce spring is coming.

the funeral

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

I will fear no evil

for Thou art with me.

chocolate kisses

  





My father loved chocolate kisses. Therefore,  when he arrived at our house in December we filled a basket full of them and he would have his daily fill of chocolate kisses. The day finally came when he was no longer interested in eating them and he would call Charlotte over to his bedside and place one in her hand. She became very proficient in asking for them until the basket was empty. 


The process of grief can take sweet forms too. We made a trip to *Target* and purchased bags of chocolate kisses which were poured  into a silver-plated bowl. They were set on a pedestal beside my father at visitation Tuesday night. 

Handfuls of sweet chocolaty remembrances.

 Daddy would have liked that.

of muffins, casseroles, soups and pastries

Food for thought- Grieving does not negate hungry bellies. While mealtimes come and mealtimes go, someone must provide food to eat and nourish- plain and simple truth. Funny how I have not given much thought to it these days, the means of how it will be purchased or who puts it on the table.

But others know. My door bell rings and there is our next meal.

Thank you.

a walk to remember

"I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away;
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away."

After a week of the hospice nurse walking me through what to expect and with manifested realities being the mainstay of our days, Daddy passed away just before midnight last night.

Before bedtime my husband, Rose, Charlotte and I sang hymns to him. He would have sung along if he could have.

I'll Fly Away,
      In the Sweet By and By, 
              When We all Get to Heaven,
                       and Nearer My God to Thee

This morning Charlotte came downstairs, and since her bedroom is just across the hall from where Daddy has lived these past two months, she asked, "Where is Granddaddy?"

"He's in heaven, Charlotte."

We embraced. She will always remember this walk too.

the embroidered pillowcase

Who would have known a pillow would provide such comfort to my dying father? A pillow ensconced in a pillowcase I embroidered when I was about ten years old. Some of the threads are missing and need to be restitched but I could not help smiling when I saw it there this week perched up alongside his sweet face. He made sure every night before we tucked him in that we put that pillow on his left side.


Dying is laborious work. I take any pearls and smiles I can find in this journey.

a purse for Charlotte

While in my favorite fabric store several months back, Charlotte and I spotted a purse pattern. Then we spotted the fabric! It has only taken me this long to complete it for her.

The inside of the purse twitters too, a side pocket to hold lip gloss, every girls need for chapstick remedied.

Bird themes carry lavish favor with me.