Posie Gets Cozy

Boysenberry Galette

With frozen boysenberries, I made a quick fruit galette. Mine oozed berry juice everywhere while baking but it was still delicious. Let it cool on your pan before you try to slice or serve it. I used the whipped kind of cream cheese (just because that's what we had in the fridge), increased the powdered sugar in the cheese mixture to 3/4 cup, and sprinkled the top with demerara sugar. This is so easy and so yummy. I've never made one before, but I'll be re-writing this for the recipe box.

Very excited that the floss arrived yesterday. Forty-six 1,000-yard cones of it. Andy and I spent the afternoon at the hardware store finding things to help us fashion an enormous floss-unwinding "machine" on the dining room table. The goal is to be able to pull lengths from all forty-six cones at the same time, so we can cut them all at the same time, in one big hank. We're both a little excited to start building the machine this morning to see if my idea actually works.

Bye-bye table — I'll see you in a few days? Weeks? Not sure how long this will take!

Also, I'm still waiting for the cross-stitch fabric to come in. Once I actually have it in my hands, I will show you the finished sampler and start taking orders for the kits (and put the PDF pattern out, if you want to do it on your own). I've also ordered a ton of scissors, needles, and hoops for my web shop as well, so you'll be able to get everything you need there. I'll talk more about all of that as I start receiving things from my suppliers and I get closer to a release date for this kit, but I am expecting it to be in the next couple of weeks. I've decided not to take pre-orders for things anymore, so I won't start the sale until everything is in hand and assembled. It's too stressful trying to predict dates by which things will be done, and then be told by suppliers that there are unforeseen delays, etc. This time we are aiming to make enough kits that they will be able to stay in the web shop and be available indefinitely, so please don't worry that they will sell out before you get one. I don't think that is going to happen at all. We are making a ton of them — I want everyone to have one who wants one, even if I wind up with extras. So, stay tuned for updates on this, but things are coming together and I'm very excited! So happy to get busy again.

And yes, I'm totally thinking botanical sampler on black-ish background for the next one! Thank you to several of you who suggested I check out 18th-century cut-paper collage artist Mary Delany (who began creating her collages at age 72), and poet Molly Peacock's biography of her. Never in my life have I ordered a book faster than this. I cannot wait to see it.

Wintergreens

I don't know that I've ever settled into or been grateful for the dormancy of wintertime as much as I have this particular wintertime. This winter, with its Dutch oven, and cord of firewood, and quiet talks, and long walks, and black-bean soups, and beeswax candles, and cable TV, and milk frother, and eucalyptus baths, and our little animals, and worsted-weight softwools, and waxflowers, and wooden table . . . well. It's spoiled us a bit. We're soft now, I guess. I was going to take a little Clovermeadow animal for a walk yesterday but it just felt too cold, too windy, too rainy, and too wet outside for such comfort-loving creatures as we. So instead we scouted the yard for signs of spring and came back in with these cuttings (comfort-loving botanists). Turns out that if you're really looking, underneath the muck of rotten leaves and winter weeds and the soft slime that autumn left behind, there are tender greens and petals at the ready. Delicate, determined beauties. I wanted to find them. I'm not that anxious for spring, really. I just like to know that it's coming, someday. I like the quiet moving-toward. I like the hiding wonders. I like the longer, still-cold days. I like the translucent, nervous greens. There's a bird that sings in the early morning now, the past week or so. His song is so loud and vibrant against the silverquiet of the mercury-gray sky. I hear the trilling when I open the back door to let the dog out at dawn. It's a new, wild, disorganized solo, and I love it.

I took artistic license with the grape hyacinth above. He actually lives in a pot in the dining room. His younger cousins do live outside by the front picket fence, but are only showing their leaves. They're several weeks out. Perhaps I'll try to clean up the yard (which is a mess) so I can watch them come up from the dining room window. Or maybe not (too warm and lazy).

It's no secret that all of us are a little bit afraid of the Bee. There's reason. No sooner did I get done bragging to Andy about how the Bee lately follows me everywhere, sits near me wherever I sit, and hangs out watching whatever I am doing than did she keep me from getting a big fat head about it by slapping me on the wrist (literally) when I petted her the "wrong" way (on the chest instead of [only ever] on the forehead). Andy heard the thwap of her tiny, lightning-fast little paw (and my surprised whinny) all the way across the room. Beeeeee!!! Why you gotta be that way??? We made up shortly after (after I apologized profusely). Getting roundly scolded by the Bee is always very nervewracking. It's hard not to want to pet her, because she's so dang cute. Well. Maybe cute isn't the right word. Cute like a baby goblin is kind of cute? Cute like the thing might . . . I don't know . . . suddenly decide to grab you by your nostril and not let go? Cute like that.

Reading How to Know the Wild Flowers by Mrs. William Starr Dana. It's so sweet. It was first published in 1893. I found this 1989 copy at Powell's yesterday when I was browsing around there as a little treat to myself yesterday afternoon, having finished the taxes, sent the sampler pattern off to the printer, and received word that our supplies for the kits should start arriving on Thursday. I have a new idea for a new embroidery project. These botanical drawings I've been spending time with are so beautiful. They are really inspiring me lately. My poor cyclamen. I guess it needs more sun than it is getting in our house? Or perhaps in the Pacific Northwest in general. It's like a visual manifestation of Portlander Vitamin D levels, somehow [swallows 5,000 IUs, stat].

Mudpuppies

Breakfast at Wapato Greenway, 2/18/12.

Oh, my sweet little poet. I think she's writing villanelles in her mind. She's very serious. Sensitive. So sincere. My Clover Meadow. I love her so.

Winterblooms

We had such a nice day yesterday. I had some girlfriends over for a Valentine's pancake and then Andy and I spent the rest of the day making bread and soup and watching the rest of Downton Abbey. Andy has had the past five days off, which has been wonderful. I have a hard time when he goes back to work after being home for quite a while. Hospital shifts are 12-hours, so generally a full-time week is three days, overtime is four. Sometimes one week's days off lead into the next week's days off, and we get five days together in a row. Pretty awesome. We've had this schedule for seven or eight years now. It works really well for us and I love it. I have to admit that the first day he goes back to work is always hard. But then when he goes back to work I have long days to dig into, and I like that they're long, because I am kind of slow to get going. Once I get going, I can stay going for long periods of time. I don't really get distracted when I am by myself. Time passes quickly and when I look up, I'm always surprised at how much time has gone by. Another thing I like about our schedule is that our days together are frequently weekdays, when it's so much less crowded out and everything takes about half as long to get done as it would take on a Saturday.

I put the roses on the fireplace a long time ago, maybe ten or eleven years ago. I saw someone do this on HGTV. My mom helped me mix up some plaster of Paris and we poured it into plastic chocolate molds shaped like roses and leaves. Then I just hot-glued them onto the bricks, and piped the "stems" with the pastry bag and a round tip. Then I painted over all of it with flat, khaki-colored paint (I don't know the name of it). I will tell you that the hot glue worked very, very well. Someone told me once how to get the glue/roses off but I can't remember. The fireplace had been painted white before we moved in. I like the roses, though in dim light Andy thinks they look like someone threw wads of toilet paper at the fireplace. He's not wrong. They kind of do.

(We have the sheep "painting" over our television. It's called Spring at the White House Farm by Billy Jacobs. I love it. Usually I get tired of whatever is hanging on the walls but for some reason I never get tired of this one. Did you see the Cardigan corgi at the Westminster dog show on Monday night? He was so cute!!! Stubby, fluffy little legs. Oh how I love them!)

Weekend WIPs

Crocus blooms : : A big pancake : : A bosom friend : : Yarn I don't like : : Taking the chair cushions in : : Making garden plans : : My Aestlight, finished a year ago, well-worn, just photographed : : Late nights up talking : : Watching American Pickers : : Pretty plant names : : Rose mallow, feverfew, hollyhock, sweet pea, foxglove, Kiss Me Over the Garden Gate : : Gray light and candlelight : : A new knitting basket for me : : Just to name but a few.

My Heartwarmers

"Why is this dog bed so small?" Precious girl.

My Tess Durbeyfield heartwarmer. Have hardly taken it off since I finished it. Making one inspired by this now, in those same colors. Next I'm going to do this one. And just look at what Nadia made. I wonder if I could do that. In sport weight, like she did. She is my knitting hero. Beautiful Nadia.

Busy Day for the Hallways

We got home late last night after the Wilco show, then woke up bright and early this morning for the crew from Rejuvenation coming over to shoot our hallways for their catalog. I'm so hoping that Clover made it into the catalog! We tried to take a few shots of her sitting at the end of the hall in the kitchen but she was pretty nervous. Also I had a treat in my hand while I was telling her to stay from way down the hall. This is a sure way to 1) kind of get her to stay but also 2) ensure that every muscle in her body (including her eye muscles) is focused sharply on my hand. Not exactly a relaxed pose. She had a wild look in her eye. Possibly not the emotion they were trying evoke in the hallway: vaguely obedient yet wigging. I think they were going more for serenely industrial Amish-chic (with organic undertones). But that's a guess. We'll see.

Have you ever seen a ten-person photo crew (and a catering crew) squeezed into a small house with a bobillion pounds of gear? It's quite awesome. The process of taking serious photos like this is pretty amazing. In this case, the photo was all about the hallway, and not our hallway but an imaginary hallway that is just using the bones and structure of our hallway to hang out in. The first thing they do is take pictures of all of your stuff. Then they take it all away — take our photos off the walls, our coats off the hooks, change the hardware on the cabinet doors, have an electrician change out the light fixtures, replace the switch plate covers, remove our kitchen stuff that could be seen at the end of the hallway and add all of their own props (though I will tell you that I was secretly very excited when I saw the stylist taking a couple of our newly potted herbs and tart tins off their windowsill in the dining room to use in the back hallway shot). It can be kind of nervewracking. People are coming and going every which way. Equipment is everywhere — enormous cords, enormous cameras, seriously enormous lenses, lights, cases, tripods, computers, accessories. Coats. Bags. And even with all of this going on, everyone involved was totally professional, totally chill, totally fun, and totally cool. I wasn't sure that I even wanted to do it when they approached us (someone there saw the photos my sister took), but I'm glad I did. They couldn't have been nicer or more respectful of us or our property (and yes, they put everything back exactly as we had it before they came). I love getting peeks at how professional stuff like this comes together. I can't wait to see the finished photos — the catalog will be out in April, so watch for it. Really just a super fun day. Very pleased.

Recipe Box

Many years ago, maybe ten years ago, my mom gave me her 5" x 8" wooden recipe box. It was always in our River Forest house and then when my parents moved I think that's when she gave it to me. I've used it for my big pile of smaller-sized handwritten or printed-out-and-glued-to-a-5- x-8"-index-card recipes. I've had this pile for about as long as I've had the box. Commercial recipe cards are usually 4" x 6" or even 3" x 5". I've never really understood that, because those are just way too small for me — and I even have small handwriting. My mom's card size, 5" x 8", works so much better, in my opinion. But obviously making this recipe box really work has meant rewriting pretty much all of my recipes. And I never did it. For some reason I would get the urge to do it every year around New Year's. I'd usually pull the box out and immediately sort of collapse with fatigue, just imagining all that writing. Then I'd put the box back.

I'm trying this new thing, though. I call it Do Things in Winter You Don't Do in Summer. Or sometimes I call it Take Advantage of February (Which Is Sort of Like Extra January). Or, like, yesterday I called it If You Don't Get This Done Now You Never Will So Sit Down and Write. Because if I can knit bobillions of rows of garter stitch in fingering weight yarn without batting an eye (much), I can do this.

And it's important to me. I love to cook. My recipes are precious. I make them over and over. Andy makes them over and over. Our history together is, in its own way, in this box. I hadn't really realized, until I started rewriting them (on the proper size cards), how much I would remember. The blue table with Ann and Martha on Eighth-and-a-Half Avenue in Rock Island, and no-knead bread with honey. Our first apartment's miniature kitchen in the Rozale, painted top to bottom wedding-cake white, and our little lasagnas. The shrimp crostini we made for the big Christmas party we had the first Christmas after my accident. Memories, memories — it was weird how easily they came. The places we've lived, parties we've had, friends we've fed, friends who have fed us and passed along their recipes. My favorites were childhood things I remember but rarely make (applesauce muffins, chicken and dumplings) and things I often do (Mom's sauce, my dad's chilli). I'll keep my few original recipes that are in other people's handwriting, but not in this box.

This box will be totally functional, and that's what I want. And need. I have a binder with page protectors that contains recipes I've printed off of the internet. I have a small library of my favorite cookbooks. But this box is going to contain all of our personal recipes, family recipes, and our most-used internet and cookbook recipes (I'll rewrite them onto the cards, because I can't tell you have many times I've tried to remember something I want to make and can't remember if it's in the box, or the internet binder, or a cookbook [which cookbook?], etc.).

I wrote out a list of categories: Breakfast Things; Appetizers, Drinks, and Dips; Soups and Salads; Pasta, Pizza, and Bread; Side Dishes; Main Courses; and Desserts. Then I went through some of the recent photos I've taken and resized them to fit on a 5 1/2" x 8" space (so, a little taller than the index cards), added the text, printed them on photo paper, then cut them out and took them over to Julie's to laminate them (should have known Julie would have something cool like her own laminator; we were laughing about this one time when she was absolutely incredulous that I didn't have my own sticker maker — [snort!]). Anyway, they came out just like I was hoping they would, so that was so nice.

For the past few days, every time I walk past the table I try to sit down and write a recipe. It's a big project, but actually going faster than I thought. I might be 1/3 done. It's obvious to me that I now need a laminator of my own, because I'll be laminating every single one of these, too. In my kitchen, recipes on paper get trashed. I can't tell you how many recipes I was trying to copy that I couldn't read because the ink was blurred off by water spills, or whatever. These little guys are getting protection. I've gone through three pens so far. But I kind of enjoy writing things by hand, especially when I'm taking my time. And I'm now thinking, Yeah. February! It's like an Extra January.

Blustery Night

We went up early and snuggled in. Making oatmeal for breakfast right now. Hoping for a quiet day. I have a million little loose ends I need to get organized so we'll see. I'm never particularly good at tying up loose ends. I spend a bunch of time running around in figure eights trying to clutch at the flailing loose ends, and then suddenly I find that I'm . . . knitting. Er.

Not even a metaphor. Actually knitting.

Blustery Day

It's so windy today. Very unnerving. I have never liked wind. My puppers does not like it either. Usually she cries a little bit at a big gust. Usually I clench my teeth, I notice. I have to remind myself throughout the day to stop doing it. Kind of weird. They say it's going to get windier tonight, too. Andy's working. I have four more episodes of Downton Abbey to watch until I'm caught up, so I think puppygirl and I will go get under the covers upstairs and watch a few on the bedroom TV early tonight. That show is so good! Intense! (And I love Daisy's apron. I want to make one.)

I wanted to show you another option that I use for organizing embroidery floss when working with lengths of floss, as come in kits, instead of skeins. My mother used to work on a lot of embroidery kits when I was a young 'un, and I remember that she always made these: cardboard strips with notches cut into them, labeled with each color name, color number, and the number of lengths included. You can separate the strands and put the remainders back in the notch. My strips are cut from a few extra pieces of mat that they gave me at the frame shop this morning when I went to pick out a frame for the sampler. I just measured out spaces 1 1/2" apart, cut the notches about 1/2" deep with my old paper scissors, then labeled each notch in the order the floss colors will be used. It's a really nice way to keep the lengths organized, and if your cardboard is heavy enough, it's a pretty sturdy little system. Nothing falls out. Matting works really well for this!

I have no idea how I got anything done before we had this table. (To those who have asked about them, all of my enamel kettles are vintage from local secondhand and antique shops, but there are lots of cute ones on Etsy if you are looking for one. The teacup is from my sissy.)

Winter-Spring Things

I made a little still life yesterday afternoon of my winter-spring things. The wind is blowing like crazy this morning. My fabric sample finally came so I have a lot of cross-stitch to do this weekend. I think I'll watch movies. Or maybe try to catch up on Downton Abbey. I've only seen the first two episodes (of season one) but I really liked it. I love the color palette they've got going. Pale mustard, gray, warm peach, midnight blues, rose, mushroom, mouse-y browns. Pretty.

Maybe

As usual, trying to become better about plants. I'm often a neglectful, capricious gardener. Collecting inspiration these days. Maybe this year I'll do better. Hmmmm. I think I say that every year.

A Stirring

No doubt about it, I have had a lazy winter. My very cells felt tired. I tried to let them rest. There were many mornings when it was so dark and cold at wake-up time (and to know us is to know we generally rise around 5 a.m. — nurses' hours), I'd head downstairs to make up a thermos of coffee and bring it back up to bed after Andy headed out to work. Deep under the covers with a little black Cloverdog heavy on my legs (no, our animals have no concept of personal space — they barely let you position yourself before they are claiming some part of your body; I recently bought Violet one of those heated kitty beds, and have barely seen my cat since, so I know this cozy act is not personal, but purely thermostatic [though I like to think they do love me, too, maybe, a little]), I'd drink up my coffee and watch the news until the sun (or, more typically, clouds) came up. Last night I stayed up late having dinner and eating part of a small cake with dearest Amy, and this morning slept in until dawn, and wake now to see that the local weather report is, as I'd hoped, full of warmish, springlike things for the next few weeks. This will do nothing for my intention to be lazy, still. No. Supposedly, anyway, I have a job. Fabric for two thousand cross-stitch kits was ordered yesterday, so it is on. Upwards of forty-six thousands of yards of embroidery floss for us to cut and package will soon be on its way to the dining-room table. Excited. I truly relish this work, and am so grateful for it. It suits me. I don't know when we'll finish the kits, but I'm not going to rush it this time; things are happening. Eileen Beatrix and Nanny Katie, who worked so cheerfully and tirelessly on the ornament kits this fall, will be here to help again. I love having them here with me. I love that Clover Meadow loves them both so much and sleeps under the table on their feet while we work. Our crew. I feel ready to get busy.

Goodbye, January.

Having a friend over for dinner tonight myself. I always set the table and make my dessert first thing in the morning, or the night before. Those are my favorite parts so I like to take my time with them. My pretty new dishes are a birthday present from Andy's parents. I just love them. They're called "Pie Crust" from Anthropologie. I have to find a place where I can get these chair seats reupholstered. They're too squishy. I don't want to spend a lot of money on them because are in pretty rough shape, from an antique mall. But they are charming. I think they were recovered very quickly, just to sell. Upholstery is something I have absolutely no talent for or interest in. It's like doing alterations. (You know how whenever anyone finds out that you know how to sew, they start listing all of the pairs of pants they would like you to alter for them? Since you love to sew?) The thought makes me twitch.

Spring fever has hit me. Once January is over, I figure Mr. Snow has had his chance and I get pouty. I ain't got no more use for that guy. Spring comes early in the Northwest. Our plum trees will bloom in February. I've redone my mantle with a fern and weensy daffodils, bought some shamrock-looking things (sorrel?) for the dining room, sat at Powell's for several hours drinking chai and looking at pretty pictures in gardening books, started receiving my seed catalogs, and put a bunch of herbs on my windowsill. Weird how the fever hits. It's like you really just can't help it. It's still too early, but I can't help it.

Pasta Man

Andy made fresh pasta and tossed it with some sauteed arugula, a bit of cream, and a dusting of Parmesan for Sunday dinner. So excellent. We only get to eat dinner together about half the week. We've been trying to make new things these past few months, branch out a bit. There is something so awesome about having someone make dinner for you. Boy have I ever been spoiled lately. Ridiculously.

In the Woods

A night, a morning, a day, a night, and a morning at a little cabin in the woods.

Winter Spring

Thank you for all the nice house tour comments! You guys are all so sweet. So sweet. Thank you. I guess our house has changed quite a bit since we started redoing things last year. Redoing the windows and then the bathrooms was a pretty major event for us. We were not redoing-type people but now maybe we are a little bit. Not much, but a little bit, I guess. Good changes. It kind of made me want to do a before-and-after photo kind of thing. I have a photo album of the very first pictures we ever took of our house twelve years ago when we bought it. It was early spring — March and April — when we moved in. We were so happy. The first day we got there there was no furniture yet or anything. There was a fireplace and an area rug. Neither of us had ever had a fireplace before. I remember Andy built a little fire and I took a nap on the floor in front of the fireplace. When it was time to go back to our apartment for the night, we didn't know what to do with the fire, which was still going, so Andy picked up the burning log and ran with it through the living room and out the front door and then threw it into the front yard. Then hosed it down. I was still lying on the floor the whole time laughing so hard, thinking, I don't know what you're supposed to do with it but I'm pretty sure that's not it. Oh man. Still cracks me up so bad.

A Little House Tour

Photo by Julie Smith

My sweet sissy did a little house tour and interview with Andy and me the other day for a home design web site she is working with called Houzz. I loved the questions (and I love Andy's answers) and I love the the pictures she took. She tape recorded the interview we did and said our voices (hers and mine) sounded so similar that it was like listening to one person talking and laughing — and not either of us, but our other sister, Susie. Hah! I busted out laughing when she said that. Awesome. Anyway, always so much fun working on stuff together. Click on the link in her post to get to the tour. Thank you, Julie! xoxoxoxoxo