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When our daughter passed away, in 2014, all her craft and quilting supplies were put away. This summer, in an effort to scale down some of the fabric stash and clutter in my craft area, I came upon the boxes and bags filled with her work.

Yes, I grieved again, while trying to decide what should be done with all this. Embroidery, crewel work and quilt blocks. Part of them went into a box to be passed on. I do not do embroidery or crewel work and never will. A disabled friend of a friend does and I know it will be appreciated there.

The quilt blocks and fabric remained, staring at me every time I went in the room. Finally, inspiration struck. I got out some of the blocks and started quilts for each of her three grand children.

I truly worked long and thought hard, since the children are three, four and six years old. Will they understand and cherish them? I do hope so.

But there were other blocks left, a small wall-hanging or lap quilt for each sister? Yes. Those are  in the works. And one for each of her two sons ‘on the drawing board’.

It hurts some to think of trips to buy fabric and all the fun we had in the planning, knowing she never got to see the fruit of this lavor. There are more than a few teardrops on some of the blocks.

Ir’s hard work, but it is bringing me comfort, as I hope it will to the recipients.


100_0179

Dear Morgan,

This frame holds some of your history.

I will tell you what I can, the quilt blocks were pieced by your great-great-great-grandmother.

She used those cardboard cutouts to make the smaller pieces to sew together by hand as you can see from the one I left upside down. those pieces and the cutout are from a pattern called double wedding ring.

The full block and its pieces are called Dresden Plate.

You might notice your great-great- great grandfather’s name and address on the pattern pieces I included.

The fabric in the back was from her ‘fabric stash’ as quilters call the fabrics saved or purchased for making their treasures.

The red flowers is from an old feed sack, the way many ladies got their fabric. Often they would make a child a dress or shirt and then use the remainder for quilts.

I came by this from someone who had purchased it at an auction and passed it to me. I saved some of the old fabric and blocks, because they are treasures.

Your Great-great grandmother, Bettie, told me they were made by her mother-in-law and asked if I would fix some for you. So here it is, I do hope that you will find it a ‘treasure’ and as you grow up something you will always love.

Mary Shipman

Work Day


Yesterday was ‘Work Day’ at the near-by rural cemetery where several friends, acquaintances and family members rest.

Armed with rakes, shovels, weed-eaters, mowers, chainsaws and trash bags, a fair number of community members showed up to make this resting place look good and set out flags on veterans graves and along the fence. Some were there to help clean and then decorate the graves of their choice.

Decoration day, Memorial Day is next weekend and there will be folks coming to pay their respects to those resting here.

At the business meeting, held in the pavilion, several projects were discussed that hopefully can be implemented in the next year. New fencing, replacing the old outhouse, and better marking of graves.  A recent burial invaded an unmarked child’s grave from longer ago than anyone could remember. New officers selected and a lunch was available.

It seemed to me, that the average age of the participants in this collective work was around 60, a few were well into their 80’s and a couple of 20-somethings might change that figure somewhat.  Mostly, it was the of young people, that were there 30 years ago.

Walking through the resting places, old stones made of concrete mix with granite ranging from simple to fancy. Babies lost to old folk who have shed their pain and so many in between.

 

 

 

 


This morning, Hubby and two grand-boys went off to an auction, leaving me home to  enjoy a day of laundry, cleaning and such with no interruptions.

They pulled in about 4:30, after I had all the animals taken care of for the day.

Hubby walks in, asks for a glass of tea, hands me the auction stubs and says, “I spent about a hundred dollars.”

I start looking through the ticket stubs, let out a yelp, grabbed my camera and ran to the truck!

100_0042

There it was, 100_0040a beauty and a treasure!

All the attachments, extra bobbins and needles. the key to the top drawer, an extra belt, spools of thread marked 18 cents and some cardboard quilt templates were found inside the drawers.

100_0041The boys have it in the sewing room, I have plans for it!

 

 

 

Years ago, I learned to sew on one of these, and I have a gang of kids, grand and great that should learn to use one too.

Maybe, down the road, someone else will be pleased to own this treasure!

 


Prompt picture is from the incomparable CEAyrFF 05-13-16

I must admit that this photo and  random comments from some newscasters led to the following take on this weeks prompt from the shining Rochelle Glowworm for Friday Fictioneers. Every week she challenges us our troop to tell a story in approximately 100 words, where ever the picture takes us.

To see where the glowing lights took others just click on the link below.

http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=631887

REPEAT – until you get it right!

Charlie watched in awe, the glowing object hovered just above the surface of the city. It had arrived a week ago, amid fighting, screaming accusations from many voices, now silent.

Booming, “We the People, in order to form a more perfect union…” repeated over and over.

The Constitution, the Declaration of Independence sounded.

Inside, pods held politicians, multi-millionaires and newscasters. Mouths and media held in comatose captivity.

The Entities would not release them until they learned their position .and returned to the concepts of government ‘for the people’, not their pocket.


https://oldentimes.wordpress.com/2011/03/10/pearl-the-kitchen-girl-good-things-last/

It could be worse! Pearl is still around, doing her job.

Sadly, the vintage bowl is no more.  An accident took it away today.

I wish I had some idea of how many times this appliance and accouterments has been used over the years.

Perhaps somewhere out there in the ether world, a replacement can be found. Thankfully the technology of computers, Google and such is available. Off I go to begin the search!


Much has been said over the past week about playing the ‘woman card’.

Today’s news showed us the one ostensibly carried by a political candidate. I found it to be lacking, but that is just my humble opinion.

A friend mentioned we all could use one, listing some of the attributes we feel make us who we are. After all, we are lifetime members of the unique guild.

And then, why not a ‘Man Card’ for the rest of the world? Let’s not be guilty of bigotry, all lives matter!

I present mine here: One of my photos and a few words, quite simple.

the woman card

What would your card say?


Once again, the charming Rochelle, path finder extrordinaire, has issued a map, the challenge for Friday Fictioneers.  This week the prompt is from one of my photos.

Here, in 100 words, is my little walk in the park. Lane and Jemma have appeared before and seemed to want to wander back.

Wedding Dress

Arrive Taras. gHOST TOWN 092

“Thirty five cents a yard,” The clerk was impatient. Leaving Jemma looking at the calico print, he turned to another customer.

Jemma glanced again at the ready made dresses hanging  in the rafters. Oh, to have twelve dollars to spend.

After all, it was a wedding dress!

Lane had offered  half his pay, ten dollars, but they needed that for the new house and she must have dishes, pots and pans.

Teaching school for fifteen dollars a month and board would not  stretch enough.

Counting carefully, she sighed, “I’ll take seven yards.”

“That will be $2.45”.

*****

Other players have taken different paths, to see where they went click here.

 


It’s a wonderful Spring Friday, sunshine, blooming lilacs and a bit of R&R as the busy-ness of a traveling week winds down.

On Wednesday our champion bronc rider, Rochelle Two Ropes, posted a photo for the rodeo known as Friday Fictioneers. The photo, this week, from Madison Woods is supposed to start our horses on to the event, to tell a story in around 100 words.

Not the easiest of challenges at times, sometimes that 8 second ride results in a buck-off. Mostly though we make it and hit the score card.

This week, a couple of down on their luck cowboys are preparing to do a days work.

RIDIN’ THE WIRE

Coffee. Lane clanged the tin cup against the battered pot. That was all there was.wire ff 4-22 Madison Woods

Hard work between rodeos!

High above, a hawk screamed a jackrabbit fighting in its talons.

“Food!” Clay thought, picking up his six-gun and shot.

The red tail dropped his prey, flying fast.

Lane shook his head, “Let’s get this done, back to the ranch for dinner”.

 

For more, from other cowboys, riders and clowns  Click here http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=625937

Fellow Fictioneers, some of that busy-ness (translate to health issues and travel) may keep me from the usual round of comments. I will attempt to at least read and ‘like’ all the posts. M

 

 

 


Hubby was watching the weather this morning. “It’s supposed to snow in the Rocky’s, up to two feet.”

This led my mind on a tangent, back many years. We had made a road trip with young children to California in late April. Our trip back included driving through Colorado.

We took an extra day, to visit places Hubby remembered from his childhood. A lovely day, so fine in fact, that we purchased some camping essentials to spend the night at a camping area we found.

Hubby purchased a fishing pole and license then headed to a nearby stream for some trout fishing.

The kids and I hiked around the camping area, enjoying the mountains and glimpses of animals.

About noon, the temperature began to drop, and snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon, a ranger came by, advising us to ‘leave, unless you are prepared to stay several days’.

We packed up, not being in a position to do be ‘snowbound’.

The snow followed us past Denver, piling up 6+ inches on slick winding roads, assuring us that leaving was the right decision.

Today, I think back, all because of a weather report.

 

 

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