This week’s assignment was Scissors—a natural sequence to rock paper scissors. I thought about getting out all of my scissors and putting them in a pile–or perhaps taking a photo of a pair and then doing something weird with them in Photoshop–twist them or make them odd colors or in watercolor. Instead I opted for a closeup of my pinking shears–a birthday present from my parents when I was 17. So they are quite old–and I’ve used them a lot—back in the days when nearly all fabric was cotton and my dresses and blouses and pants were all cotton. Although I became quite adept at flat-fell seams and mock flat fell seams, these shears made my fashion wardrobe a much easier process.
Now they reside in a hand-made scissors sheath in a drawer next to the other scissors and rotary cutters.
Down the street a few blocks over is a garage. Not just any garage for parking cars or lawnmowers and bicycles or Christmas lights but a garage set up to work on CARS or MOTORCYCLES. Built to specifications as outlined in our historic district.
One lovely sunny morning in recent months we spent an hour or so there, my husband consulting and investigating various aspects of the project on hand–while I took photos of things that intrigued me. Mechanical parts, bits and pieces, work processes and their detritus—and a bit of whimsy.
Here they all are: https://sylviaweirphotos.smugmug.com/Family/A-day-in-the-garage/
My mother always used to ask what we were doing on Sunday afternoons when I would call. She was in Wisconsin and I was either in balmy Augusta Georgia (read frequently sweaty) or in upper coastal Texas where we have a few more ocean breezes (read hurricanes and tornadoes on a too frequent basis).
In January the daffodils and the snowdrops would start poking their heads out of the ground. Sometimes there would be blossoms in early January–those blossoms were surprisingly hardy as one year we had freezing rain–the blossoms were coated with ice and I thought I would have just brown withery things–but the ice melted and the blossoms still smiled and waved gently in the breezes.
This year has been an odd year–I have one azalea already blooming next to the camellia (which did not bloom for either Thanksgiving OR Christmas)
But now the snowdrops are blooming-=-they are usually first and pretty much gone by the time the daffodils burst into bloom–but I now have both daffodils and snowdrops in bloom–with more of them blooming in the next few weeks.
I”m posting this for all of my friends who are still dealing with snow and ice and dreading the mud and flood season.
No, not the edible variety or even the trees—but ROSES
Today the rose garden at Mcfadden Ward house is being thoroughly pruned–and the cuttings are given away to neighbors and others interested in roses. It is not warm outside–not even 50 degrees. Here is the pruner:
and here is the older gentleman who is cutting off pieces of brown kraft paper for us to wrap up our goody bundles to take home:
And here is what I brought home:
I pruned and clipped and stuck them all in a bucket, filled it with water and put it near the dining room window where most of my orchids seem to flourish. Hopefully I will have one or two rosebushes but if not–it was fun chatting with the garden workers and the other hopeful rose gardeners.
Tomorrow will be some photos of the spring bulbs in my yard–
There are nights in which I do not sleep well. Some of that reflects my twenty plus years as an ER physician with lots of late night doings–and the necessity for getting up at 3AM for the drive to work. And then there is the back pain that persists despite several surgeries (although vastly improved). And so I steal downstairs to read my email, process photos, let the dogs out, and press the button to start the coffee pot.
After a bit, the dogs want back inside–treats await them. But after that treat Toby usually goes back to sleep but Dora makes her way up the stairs, nudges open the bedroom door and finds Glen still attempting to sleep. She pushes his arm repeatedly–she needs belly rubs–see her smile at her success.
What would we do without these dogs to enliven our days?
My mother had a small wardrobe–everyday house dresses covered with an apron initially followed by pants and a blouse also covered with an apron. Her Sunday wardrobe was white and black dresses–never pants to church. She sewed all of these garments including shirts for my brothers and my dresses until I revolted on her choice of colors, style, and fit and made my own.
My grandmother–her mother–passed on the frugality of the Great Depression to her (and to me). She saved all those scraps from her dresses, the shirts, aprons, and my garments wrapping them all up in little bundles and fastening them with a straight pin–or even more frugally–a piece of selvedge.
When Mom died after years of dealing with ovarian cancer, there was no question about who was going to deal with all the sewing materials she left behind. There were some selections meant for quilts–one set was used in a donation quilt and sewed by members of my quilting bee. But then there were all those little bundles.
I unrolled them, pressed them, and cut them into strips. There were some ready cut blue squares—leftover from another project and a length of the red plaid–I think it was taken apart from a skirt as there was a hem line I had to work around.
This is a glimpse of that project on the Gammill. It is already bound but I am adding hand stitching around the edges–Mom hand quilted all of her quilts.
our weather in this part of Texas can only be described as dreadfully dreary. Gray skies, misty rain, and sometimes deluges with yards like soaked sponges. Tonight it will be cold so in come the orchids, the poinsettias, the Christmas Cactus, the Night blooming Cereus, the prayer plant. The pineapple is covered with a plastic pot and the tiny mums are covered with a plastic bag. The grass is brownish in most spots and the peach tree and the fig have dropped their leaves. The ferns are curled up brown feathers and it is just dismal.
But then as I drive away to a morning appointment I spy this.
A gardenia blossom.
It smells wonderful and reminds me of the large bush growing outside our covered porch in Augusta Georgia. The fragrance would waft it’s way through the house and we contemplated naming a daughter Jasmine after this sweet smelling flower.
Alas, no daughters–I had to wait for the daughter-in-laws but they are just as sweet as those pure white flowers.
Twelve days of Christmas–and while I have never aspired to even think about getting all those lords a leaping or maids a milking–I have thought about the hens a laying—and maybe the partridge in the pear tree. Except I have a peach tree that produced exactly one peach this year about the size of my thumb.
The hens might be a reality later this year as we are researching out chicken coops and plotting where might be the best spot–and thinking Toby and Dora will be greatly intrigued.
How-some-ever I am still processing and uploading a few photos from Christmas. Here is my favorite from Christmas Day–although there were some others that can be seen here:https://sylviaweirphotos.smugmug.com/Family/Christmas-2016-at-Joeys-inlaws/
Meet Rosie–a rescue from a shelter who is now living with our oldest son in Burleson TX. She is a sweet dog that is not nearly so active as Toby. She learned that tennis balls were things to pick up and carry around–especially the squeaky ones. Frisbees were a chew toy though–but she is not even a year old yet.
I painted his new office/study/library—can you guess what school he went to?
The paint store clerk matched it from his notebook.
The hot water heater had a broken element—drained water heater–without neighbors calling water department to report a leak.
Rosie discovered two little girls next door and broke through the fence to go play with them—so a woven wire fence went around the base of the fence amd the neighbor replaced some pickets as well.
We talked about a garden and I suggested some pots with some wire around it until he could figure out where the best place for it would be.
Our two dogs–Toby and Dora were very well behaved on the trip up and back–Toby was sure she was supposed to be top dog even though she knew she was a guest—so a few kerfluffles but no blood drawn, just a lot of rolling around and a lot of bits of grass on their fur.
I am a morning person–partially because my work involved me getting up at 3:30 in the morning to be on the road to be at work by 7.I always had a breakfast before I got in my truck to drive off—with a cup of coffee snuggled next to me–the cupholders not fitting my Starbucks thermos mug. Then I would have second breakfast when I arrived.
In earlier years I would get up at 5 on Thursdays to make a batch of sugar cookies to send to my son’s school for their snack–it was fun to choose different cut outs themed for the time of the year. But on other days my husband and I would listen to Radio Reader while drinking our first coffee of the morning, It was a half hour of entertainment and blissful quiet togetherness.
Last month I captured these two photographs on two separate days in Virginia where we visited my mother-in-law.