Sweetfern Handmade ~ Crafts, Recipes, Creativity

Coming up for air

2012-01-31T10:25:00.003-05:00

Fffffwwwwushhh. I'm not sure, is that an accurate representation of the noise a whale makes when it comes up for air? Oh man, the deadlines! They conspire. They burgeon. They... are very much something I'd like to sweep away before we hop on that plane for Florida. Right now, I write mostly for quarterlies, and they all have similar editorial schedules, and so... four times a year, it is CRUNCH TIME. The good news is, progress is being made. It feels good. It also feels good to get back here and write something for free.

In between clicking away on the keyboard, I've been hopping up to spray paint a frame here and there, or cut a mat, or something like that. This is definitely a slow project. In between the spray painting and the accumulating and the mat-cutting... I have to say, I don't know how other project blogs move fast enough to keep it interesting. Do they forgo sleep?

Over the weekend, we hung a small assemblage in the "lair." The man-lair. A small collection of old posters and old photos and prints and pet pictures just perfect for Patrick. I planned out the arrangement, and Patrick set the anchors. It was the perfect little project, and a good trial run for the more ambitious stairwell gallery still in the works.

Not sure I'll get a chance to update again before we take off, so the next time you hear from me will likely be from the beach. Gah. So surreal. Cheerio!

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Still lifes

2012-01-23T16:23:00.000-05:00

Rain drops are hanging from the gutter outside the window. Our yard has gone from snow-covered to naked and muddy over the course of the afternoon, while I paced and thought and watched from the upstairs window, and wrote in fits and spurs.

I'm beginning to despair of having a proper winter this year. Whenever I receive snow gear for Christmas, winter fails to show itself. This year, Patrick and I received snow shoes, which are languishing in the garage.

In two weeks we will be getting ready to leave for Miami. I'm trying to wrap my head around that fact.

We'll be camping, so it'll be nothing decadent, but still... Miami... in February. Oh my.

The gallery wall is still in progress. I want to hang everything at once, when I'm ready, so can strike a good balance of big frames and small frames, white frames and brown frames. I bought a new rug for the office, which is on its way. Putting down said rug will necessitate me cleaning everything up off the floor, though, so it's a mixed blessing.

We have friends coming for dinner the next two weekends, so I have to hold off from diving into any big ambitious projects for the time being. To keep the house presentable. It's good, in a way. It's forcing me to be quiet and collected, and to not take on too much. Two months ago I had four projects going simultaneously, and right now I have just the one. It feels good to be able to focus.

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Coming along

2012-01-19T10:34:00.000-05:00

This project is turning into the perfect winter companion. It's good to have a companion project to see you through the winter. In the past, it's been a quilt, or a reupholstery project. It helps make the time pass, and it's important for me to have something growing during the winter, indoors, when nothing whatsoever is growing outdoors.

So, here my little collection of things to hang is growing. The mat cutter is working out ok-- I'm using these instructions, and a little hand-held mat cutter I got for $7 shipped on Ebay. White matboard is definitely a good choice for beginners-- it doesn't show the small moments of untidiness that are so hard to avoid.

Initially I thought I was going to stick to white frames for this project, but the more I poke around on Pinterest, the more I like mixed frame arrangements that are cohesive but not matchy. So I'm bringing in some dark wood tones, and maybe some black, and oil-rubbed bronze. The little owls were embroidered by my mother-in-law, and they hung, for many years, in Pearle's house. They're very 70s, but in a charming sort of way. The black and white photo is my mother, at nineteen, looking sort of like a model I think. The flower embroidered runner we had hanging in our bathroom in our old house; I just painted the frame to make it fit a little better with this arrangement. The print in the top right corner is Acadia National Park, where we had our honeymoon. I found it in a stack of ephemera at an antiques shop. The little turtles I cut out of a magazine and mounted on cardstock. Sometimes found art is the most fun kind.

I love how this is turning out to be a mix of artifacts, family treasures, and random not-too-precious things. It's turning out exactly how I wanted it to, so far-- we'll see how it goes when I start hanging things up!

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Kale and breadcrumb-stuffed squash

2012-01-18T12:16:00.000-05:00

I love delicata squash. Is anyone with me here? They taste butternut-like, with none of the graininess of acorn squash or the fibrous nature of spaghetti squash. And the skin is edible. Wonder squash.

This recipe gets made at least once each winter. It's incredibly cheap, incredibly delicious, and just fancy enough to feel special. It's good for one of those let's-open-a-bottle-for-the-heck-of-it kind of nights. Beans. Kale. Garlic. Breadcrumbs. A dusting of parmesan. It's alchemy. My favorite recipes are like that: humble ingredients coming together in just the right way to make delicious magic.

Kale and Breadcrumb Stuffed Delicata Squash

2 delicata squash, halved and seeded.

Rub with salt, pepper, and a little oil, and bake cut side up in a 350 degree oven for an hour.

Meanwhile...

I big clove garlic, sliced

4 packed cups chopped kale

1 can white beans, OR 3/4 dried white beans cooked with garlic until tender

1 tbsp minced fresh sage

Saute the garlic in a little oil until golden brown, then add the kale. Cover and cook until well-wilted, adding a little water if the pan seems dry. Stir in the beans and heat through to let the flavors mingle. Then add the sage and remove from the heat.

1/2 cup breadcrumbs, preferably homemade

1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese

Combine in a small bowl. This time I got a little extra decadent and toasted the breadcrumbs in a tablespoon of butter before proceeding. Unnecessary, but delicious.

Mix half the breadcrumb mixture into the bean filling. Raise the oven temperature to 425. Pack the baked squash halves with filling, mounding it up in places, then sprinkle the remaining breadcrumb mixture over. Bake 15 minutes.

Enjoy! Makes four servings.

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Hello sunshine

2012-01-16T13:20:00.001-05:00

We had a beautiful weekend full of friends time. We had brunch with local friends and dinner with local friends and dinner with some not-so-local friends. I made curried coconut green beans and oatmeal pumpkin bars and facilitated sticker play. I ate amazing mango chutney, and aged salami, and even drank a dainty little glass of Frangelico. I didn't take a single picture.

I never thought January would be my favorite month, but this year, it's turning out to be. It's the month where we catch up on the most important things. Everyone needs a month like that, right?

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Some artifacts

2012-01-12T16:36:00.001-05:00

The mat cutter I ordered is taking its sweet time arriving, so in the mean time I've been fiddling. I picked up two 8 x 8 square canvasses at Michael's last week, because I really love the look of a spare canvas in the middle of a frame wall, and because I'm forever collecting "bits" of things to display. The handful of artifacts on the canvas is from the beach at Long Point State Park, where we had our second date and then later got engaged. Not on the same day. The little metal button, and also the piece of purple beach glass (in the tiny frame) I specifically remember from our second date. Sigh.

Those tiny frames are ones I picked up at the thrift store months ago. They had a package of the four cheapo little frames for $1.25, I think. The box was so flimsy and the packaging so cheap that they actually glued the box to the frames... but that was nothing a little sandpaper couldn't fix. I primed and spray painted them glossy white. The bottom frame holds a skeleton key we found in this house when we bought it. I love artifacts like that.

Obviously I took the glass out of the tiny frames, and put in a piece of white cardstock and a piece of corrugated cardboard in its place.

I like to do things like this, projects that use thrifted materials and take forever to complete because there's always the waiting... waiting for the perfect materials to find their way to you. It makes the process more enjoyable, and gives you time to think the thoughts you need to think to make it right.

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Dapper

2012-01-10T13:47:00.001-05:00

Patrick and I spent part of our Saturday rummaging through an old barn full of antiques nearby. It was the jumbled, messy, chaotic sort of antiques place-- dust on everything, piles covered with sheets, water spots where the rain had come in through the corrugated steel roof. In the very top of the barn, fat stacks of framed photographs and artwork waited quietly next to a small mountain of ruined lampshades. Because I've lately been in a framed art state of mind, I dove in. Actually, Patrick dove in. He found a covered bridge print (below) from about ten miles away from where I grew up. And then I dove in, too.

Within ten seconds, he pulled out the bottom band photograph, and ten seconds later, I found the top one. Its mate.

Look at these guys.

Look at these dapper, earnest guys with their shiny instruments and smart bow-ties. This pair of photographs is going to look so terrific in Patrick's room, I can't believe how easily we found them.

Just as easily, we scooped up three covered bridge prints by the same artist, all from my home county.

To thank us for carting away some of the dusty mess cluttering up the barn, the owner (who I sense may be feeling slightly stuck with a big dusty mess not of his making), cut us a serious deal. Those photographs above he gave us for $2 apiece. Damn.

I think we'll be going back sometime soon.

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Winterwoods

2012-01-09T16:49:00.000-05:00

Patrick hasn't had a gig since December. The restaurant where I waitress is closed until February. Can I just take a minute to tell you wonderful it has been?

This weekend was one long, sweet, quiet date. We had a dinner date out and a dinner date in, a breakfast date in the car and a lunch date at the dining room table. We had a antiquing date and a driving date and a sitting-and-listening-to-NPR date and a movie date. I am cramming as much date time as possible into this month, because oh, it is so fleeting. The rest of the year, he will be gigging and I will be waitressing every Friday and Saturday evening (and even some Sundays too) but for right now it is the January lull, and I am sponging up as much husband time as possible.

These pictures are from a hiking date Sunday afternoon. As we drove north, the driving sleet softened into the perfect sort of floaty, romantic snow... magic snow... and we stepped into the woods among towering spruce trees and just let the quiet fill us.

(You can barely see the snowflakes falling in my photos, but the air was full of them all around us. Patrick had snow in his hair. I did, too.)

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Currently in progress...

2012-01-05T11:31:00.001-05:00

This is my first week as a full-time writer. I've divided my days into blocks for working on different assignments, but somehow there always seems to be room in between for a little "project time." Somehow sitting down to two hours of reviewing interview notes seems way more palatable if I can put a coat of spray paint on something first. So, I've been working on this. It's the beginning stages of a gallery wall, and I got my inspiration from here.

Source.

A pile of Things to Frame has slowly been gaining members for years: vintage postcards, old photos, art from friends, prints from Etsy. A small frame pile has been growing alongside, whenever I found a good one for less than two bucks in a thrift store or antiques store.

And here is where it will live:

We have yet to paint that awesome skylight/clearstory thing, but when we do it'll probably be glossy white, and maybe we'll hang a ton of mirrors up there to maximize the wee bit of natural light the space gets.

Tomorrow, I think I'm going to buy a mat cutter and lots of white matboard. It's good to have a project.

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A little village

2012-01-04T13:56:00.000-05:00

I'm developing a habit of doing Christmas crafts after Christmas. (Remember this table runner?) What can I say-- I spend the whole month of December watching other peoples' projects go up around the blog and Pinterest world, and by the time the holiday comes I'm so amped up and so inspired and so... out of time. I don't let that stop me, though, oh no. I pull flatted garment boxes out of the recycling and begin building a snow village.

In many ways the time after the holidays is the best time of year for crafting. The house is full of handmade ornaments and cheery decor. If you're looking for raw materials and things to repurpose, look no further than the recycling bin. I made a whole town from one garment box, and salvaged glassine for its windows from another. The doors are colored cardstock. Everything else is just paint.

By the way, the templates are from here, and the inspiration is from here. Inspiration + templates is my favorite formula.

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Patrick's lair

2012-01-03T16:10:00.000-05:00

Patrick spent all day in here yesterday. I'd asked him to "move in" to the armoire I'd painted for him for Christmas, in the process emptying a big purple tub I was going to need to put Christmas decorations away. (Our decorations, you see, have multiplied quite a bit in the past two months.) Simple enough. I expected it would be an hour's work, and instead he was at it all day. I heard drills squealing. He went to the hardware store. I heard him hauling things around, and I was beside myself with curiosity. I wanted to watch, to see, to offer helpful and probably extremely annoying observations.

In the end, he built a shelf out of two discarded table leave from the garage. I got all spinny-eyed, and maybe a little moony, too. He kept something out of the landfill and gave it a new purpose, and the resulting shelf is beautiful in a punk industrial sort of way (perfect for Patrick) and awesomely functional. The leaves were exactly the right length for that little bit of wall, too. Fate, I say.

Someday, I might get really finicky and buy new brackets for underneath, but hey, baby steps.

He also hung things on the walls. Good heavens. Mr. Les Paul (below) and that awesome antiques shop score from what feels like forever ago finally have a home.

Really starting to look good in this old house. Oh, and for a wee trip down memory lane, remember this room a year ago?

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Cozy

2012-01-02T16:15:00.002-05:00

It's finally snowing. Patrick has the day off, so we've both been puttering today: a little writing or picking, a little crafting or cooking or tidying, watching the flakes fall. All our decorations are still up, which is as it should be, I think. January is too dark for anything but light.

I fixed whatever issue was making my blog take ten minutes to load for a month, which was deeply satisfying. And now to get on with the business of the new year... Hope it's a good one, friends.

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2011 in Review

2011-12-30T11:40:00.000-05:00

Today, I get to look back at the incredible driven-ness of the past year, and remember every challenge we met and pulled through, and puff my chest for the last time. And then, I get to tear the page off and look forward again. Refreshed. Balanced.

2011 was not a year of balance. It was a year of springing out of bed at a quarter to seven on summer Saturdays and hauling implements of destruction around the yard, of creaking out of bed on autumn Sundays with an internal refrain of must... finish... house.... must... get ready... for Christmas... It was also a year of so many blog posts here trumpeting our accomplishments with a frankly obnoxious We! Are! This! Awesome! tone. We are this awesome. I've proved it now, and can rest.

The laurels have been laid, and it is time to relax. This winter, I plan on savoring the home we've worked so hard to make here. I plan to spend quality time with the fireplace, and make lots of soup in the kitchen. I'm eagerly awaiting the green leafy BOO YAH of seeing the asparagus and the raspberries and the fruit trees unfurl and begin to thrive. If I feel like it, maybe I'll paint some cabinets or sew a quilt for snuggling by the fire. I'll make some progress on my flower wall.

2011 was a blank slate, a void to be filled, a house full of blank walls. We have hung things and made things and done things and given the house our life to hold. The scramble is over. Home has been established. Home is here.

Here's to the peace and satisfaction and balance of home. I hope you all have a wonderful New Year's!

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It was Christmas

2011-12-28T12:43:00.000-05:00

I had pretty amazing Christmases, growing up. We lived three hours north of our entire extended family, in the snowy wilds of rural upstate. On Christmas eve, cars would pull into the driveway. Dad would go pick grandma up at the bus stop. The house would fill with relatives I didn't see often enough, and presents, and enticing cooking smells. I became a sugared-up whirling dervish, spoiled and scooped up by aunts and grandparents. The huge back room of our house turned sweltering from the roaring fire my dad laid in the hearth; I ran around the dining table half-naked. My mother was a frazzled blur of efficiency and wonderful food, always with a turkey baster in one hand. She didn't just host Christmas, she ran a three-day, three-night bed-and-breakfast, complete with presents, Santa, and--oh right!-- my birthday thrown in for good measure.

It was always perfect. The food, the abundance, the presents, the house full of family appreciating a reprieve from city life. The bar was seriously high as I started thinking about hosting my first Christmas this year.

This time, the family would be coming to me. We're a little smaller now, even, than we were then. I invited my friend Alexis and her fiance to balance out the age dynamic, and because I love them, and because they are family. I planned Christmas eve dinner and Christmas morning brunch, and got the house together. I made beds and collected blankets.

Something about spending the night. It was an essential element. Sharing a meal is happy and fun and enjoyable, but somehow, sharing shelter is even more meaningful. It's kinship. It's feeling like-- being able to pretend-- that you're all part of the same village, the same tribe, even just for one night. The same people. Does that make sense? I don't know. That's how it felt, after we tottered home from caroling and meeting Santa at the park-- a Gilbertsville tradition-- and had wine and dessert and more wine, and basked by the fire.

Everyone thanked me, in the end, for good food and warm beds. But I'm really the lucky one. Here's my family, delighted, eager and willing to make a tradition out of Christmas in Gilbertsville. The biggest, most meaningful gift of all.

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Yup, we're ready

2011-12-21T09:13:00.002-05:00

I hope you are, too.

Happy holidays!

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Behind the scenes

2011-12-19T09:46:00.000-05:00

We came home from running errands yesterday morning to find Patrick's dad working on our house.

You know how some people wish for elves to take care of difficult or unpleasant jobs in their lives? Well, we don't need elves, because we have Patrick's dad. Have I mentioned that he's a saint?

First he spent a couple months installing new banisters and railing in our stairwell. Now we come home and he's installed our antique reclaimed mantle in the Great Room.

It had been sitting in our garage all summer, poor thing. It seems unreal that we purchased it back in April, when it seemed logical to expect we'd be able to install it in a month or so. Ha.

Not sure if you remember, but this has been our plan all along for this room. We had a terrific brick fireplace in our Binghamton house (with a gas insert-- so easy!) and became quite fond of spending howling cold January evenings sitting before it with a bit 'o wine. This house was fireplace-free, but it did have a fine empty expanse of wall in the Great Room that seemed ready to accept one...

About midsummer, I measured and taped off a ghostly outline of where I hoped the fireplace would someday live... flanked by custom bookshelves on order from my dad. (My dad is also a saint.)

After we came home Sunday, Patrick and his dad strode about purposefully, wielding industrial adhesive and mega-clamps, while I dithered about in the background, periodically wringing my hands (watch the floor!) and dancing celebratory jigs.

Patrick went off to rehearsal in the evening, and I sat on the couch and smiled gleefully. It just looks so freaking cool. I gave our baby a bath (she was mighty sooty) and then I lit the insert (no faux-logs yet, but they're coming soon).

B-b-b-baby.

Of course there are still a dozen little trimming-out and finishing-up steps before it's truly done... and, of course, a wide mantle shelf to sit on top, which we didn't want to set in place until after the glue was dry on the uprights. But the big tricky stuff is out of the way, and when my family comes on Saturday they can sit on the couch in front of the fire, and that is amazing.

Here's a view of the new light fixture we have overhead, which I mentioned on Friday.

Really coming along.

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Spruced up

2011-12-16T11:09:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but: I'm finally beginning to feel satisfied and contented in this house. Things are shaping up. In the past two months, we've gotten a dishwasher, installed new light fixtures, received new railings in our stairwell, bought a big shelf for my office, and painted and spruced up the downstairs bathroom. We have a nice ceiling fan in our bedroom instead of an ugly gold boob light. The net result of all this is I no longer walk into a room and cringe inwardly. All summer, it was, Oh, this'll be nice after... or, just wait until I hang/install/buy this...thing... I'll no longer be cringing.

It's far from done, of course, but so many of the big-ticket cringe items are off the list now. It's a beautiful thing. A liberating, beautiful thing. It's feeling like home.

The new light fixtures were the biggest thing. Every day, I'd walk into our front room and look around, and feel content with things... until I looked up. The whole downstairs came with cheap dated-looking ceiling fans, which I plan to refinish and install in our upstairs (because ceiling fans make more sense in bedrooms, anyway, right?) but to replace them downstairs I wanted something nice. I eventually ended up at Rejuvenation, justifying the order I placed by agreeing it would be my birthday present to myself, from myself, this year.

I have a habit of justifying expensive purchases that way. Anyone else?

The good news is, both fixtures are in, and I love them. Love love love. The one in the great room is bigger than the one shown above, with four lights dangling from a curvy oil-rubbed-bronze canopy. It's almost exactly like the fixtures we had in our Binghamton house, except those were actually from the 20s, and these are reproductions.

The downstairs bathroom, too, has seen big upgrades.

The paint really helped, (remember before?) and then I went and added curtains, a funky Venetian blind, a new set of towel bars etc, and (luxury of luxuries!) a new toilet seat. Oo la la, right? Hey, it's the little things.

(Pardon the missing switch plate. Apparently some things are still too little to be dealt with in time for photographs.)

This room was so dingy when we moved in, and now there's nice new towels hanging from brushed chrome towel bars, and funky new curtains (I sewed em, natch) and a sleek oil-rubbed-bronze curtain rod... everything is suddenly feeling very put-together. Surprisingly put-together.

Well now. I think the house just might be ready for Christmas. How do you like that.

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O, Christmas Tree

2011-12-14T11:53:00.000-05:00

Thursday evening, I sat down with a box of ornaments and a box of tissues.

Last month, I had received, via my mother, a box of my grandpa's old glass Christmas ornaments. Sitting down with that box of his brought him back to me the way nothing else really has.

My grandpa went after life with both hands. He patented a sort of explosive, near-gagging laugh that showed the fillings glinting in his back molars. He carved the turkey every year: there is a category of photograph of him, carving knife in hand, face red from Chianti and the roaring fire, about to cut into the bird. I'm pretty sure there's one for each year we had Christmas at my parents' house, 1986 to 1997.

The other category of photograph is pictures of him holding me. He reliably wears an expression that most people reserve for the dessert case. I'm going to eat this thing, this beautiful, delectable granddaughter of mine, it says. He loved me fiercely. For my first eleven years, I was his only grandchild.

He had an eye for art, and he knew and understood and practiced beauty in a way most men I've met shy away from. He took me flower picking when I was a girl, carefully selecting and arranging the stems in his hand as we went along, holding each one at arms' length before choosing its place in the bundle. In my mother's childhood, he was a giver of colored pencils and paper tablets, an art director and critic as her talents for sketching and painting emerged.

There is so much of him, I realize, in how mom talks with me about my writing. About how she's always been there, giving me paper for book-making (when I was younger) and attending poetry competitions, and now, reading rough copy and offering comments.

These ornaments shone on the tree throughout my mom's and uncle's childhood. She remembers each individual one, sometimes even where he bought it and where it hung. A Christmas tree is a deeply personal thing, a tree laden with memories and charms for the things we wish for and love and remember best. Sitting there in its glow last week, I felt a little piece of family history had come to stay with me for keeps

.I wasn't alive yet when he purchased these, but I know how it went: holding each one at arms' length standing in the department store aisle, imagining its place on the tree before making his selection.

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Christmasing

2011-12-07T09:04:00.001-05:00

This corner was made for a Christmas tree. Seriously, when I walked into this room for the first time, I thought, Christmas tree there.

We haven't decorated it yet-- Patrick claimed November 30th was too early for husband participation-- and besides which, I need to buy more garland. Tomorrow night the ornaments will come out en masse.

Something about that first Christmas in a new house. I'm ordinarily pretty into merry-making, but this year has brought seasonal spirit to new heights. I drove over hill and dale to collect the Christmas tree, which I found on Craigslist. I went to JoAnn Fabrics and Michael's and spent hours, hours, looping yards of garland over my arm like a female Clark Griswold.

I'm going back again tomorrow. I'm worried.

I told my mother-in-law that hosting Christmas gives women a special kind of mental illness. This I said to a woman who hosts a lavish Christmas day dinner in her house where quaint snow villages and caroler figurines occupy every horizontal surface. Strangely, she didn't seem offended.

I think I understand it, now. I'm beginning to long for snow villages and caroler figurines of my own.

If I somehow find the time to squeeze in a craft project before the actual day, I might make toilet tube owls. Or a light bulb hot air balloon. Or a single, perfect, glittered snow house.

Sigh. What holiday preparations are underway at your house?

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Remembering

2011-12-05T11:07:00.001-05:00

Pearle L. Strain
October 6, 1919 - November 30, 2011

The best part was, almost the whole family was there. For someone who devoted her entire life to her kids and grandkids, it was about as perfect as a passing can be.

About a week before Thanksgiving, she stopped eating. As simple as that, it seemed she was letting us all know, enough. So the family came and gathered. We sat in her living room. We slept by her bed. We helped her to be comfortable. We ate pumpkin pie in her kitchen. As best we could, we helped her transition. We helped each other transition.

Though I've been a part of this family for six years, going through this journey with Patrick's parents and aunts has brought them closer in a way I didn't expect. Experiences like this change people. Empathy deepens. Understandings emerge where they never existed before. For a week we waited and watched.

I was standing in the room with her two daughters when she slipped, peaceful as fog, from one side to the other. It was honestly beautiful-- a release she'd been wanting for some time, I think. Patrick's parents came just minutes after. Patrick came, too, from work. We all stood around with tears glittering on our faces, shocked in spite of ourselves.

Later in the day, we gathered in her sunroom to open a bottle (perhaps two) and share stories. We talked about Thanksgivings and Christmases, and the year she single-handedly drained a bottle of Bailey's before coming over for dinner. We joked about her tongue, which had loosened considerably in old age. We lovingly retold some acutely embarrassing stories of when that tongue had been unleashed in public places, complete with pitch-perfect imitations. Patrick's dad and his sisters shared stories, some near-legend quality, from their childhood: The Great Chicken Massacre. Shooting Groundhogs from the Attic.

I'm pretty sure she was right there with us all the while, listening and laughing along.

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Weekend scenes

2011-11-28T09:04:00.001-05:00

Patrick and I spent lots of time out enjoying the glorious sunshine. Then we came inside and did our best to ignore the sunshine while we started decorating for the holidays. November, month of paradoxes.

I hope your Thanksgivings were warm and peaceful and delicious.

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Gratitude 2011

2011-11-23T09:04:00.001-05:00

It's the day before Thanksgiving, and that means gratitude. For the past three years, I've set myself the ambitious goal of "no repeats," but this year, I'm going to cut myself some slack. Here we go.
1. GILBERTSVILLE. Really, how could that not be first?2. Everything we've accomplished, together, in the past year.3. Sunchokes4. Genevieve's eggs5. Pete tearing around like a maniac, outside.6. That cozy feeling settling in.7. A new dryer that dries clothes in one cycle.8. Having a dishwasher again for the first time since May.9. Our dads: handy, dogged, generous, kind.10. Our moms: creative, enthusiastic, generous, kind.11. Our quaint little post office12. Our quaint little general store13. Weekly phone consultations with my best friend and bride-to-be, Alexis14. Every freelance assignment I've been given this year. So grateful.15. Maker's Mark bourbon16. Homemade pickles17. My neighbor's porch swing.18. The same neighbor's early Christmas decorations.19. The same neighbor's excellent cookie-baking skills.20. Land.21. A different neighbor's horses, which I can see from my office window22. Our friends with babies.23. Our friends without babies. 24. Old buttons.25. Roasted Brussels sprouts26. Gillian Welch & David Rawlings27. A Dirty Life, by Kristin Kimball, which has been entertaining and inspiring me lately.28. Clean sheets.29. Feeling pretty.30. Fabric-covered embroidery hoops31. Plate wall32. Nesting33. Glee. (Yes...)34. Supportive family35. Local meat36. Mentors37. Putting down roots in our new home38. Meeting new people who live on our street39. Gorgonzola-stuffed olives40. Chobani yogurt41. Spotted Duck honey42. My growing garden43. Feeling like I have more storage than I know what to do with44. Hiking with Patrick45. Goofing off with my husband46. Borscht47. My "chicken boots."48. Dutch Bucket System49. Singing along to my husband's guitar50. Decorating51. Driving the truck52. Dunderberg Brook.53. Sourdough pretzels54. Campfires55. Looking back56. Looking ahead57. Old spools58. Anna Maria Horner59. Resiliency60. Pumpkin bread61. Pumpkin beer62. Trick-or-treaters63. Closure64. Hosting65. Porches66. Galpals67. Lilacs68. Arugula69. Orioles70. Old cemeteries71. Craigslist72. Antiques shows73. Lockets74. Pedal steel75. Old mirrors76. Repurposing77. Working from home78. Old photographs79. Getting organized80. Feather duvets81. Family heirlooms, old and new82. Flannel shirts83. Blog comments84. Colored pencils85. Sam Adams Octoberfest86. Portabello mushrooms87. Ducklings88. DIY blogs89. Pinterest90. Being a band wife91. Milkshakes92. Potential93. Feeling that the toughest of the work is behind us94. Rag rugs95. Live music96. Making soup on rainy afternoons97. Creme fraiche98. Old keys99. Yellow tulips100. Plaid
Happy Thanksgiving, friends!
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Presto, chango!

2011-11-21T13:23:00.001-05:00

I don't think I'd ever showed you our downstairs bathroom, had I? Well, don't get attached to the view above, because now it looks like this.

Oh, what a difference a coat of paint makes. I did trim, walls, and ceiling. If the color looks familiar, it's because it's the same as our hallway. Behr Baked Brie. All else being equal, I'd rather have a gallon of actual baked brie than a gallon of baked brie-colored paint. Every time I think of the color, I start to salivate.

As far as plans go, I've been inspired by a couple of Pinterest pics. Namely,

And

..which means I'm thinking of painting the vanity... green, perhaps? Wrong! I'm actually envisioning a vibrant yellow, which will tie the shower curtain (made from a sheet, in case you're wondering) in nicely. Though I did just come home with some very punchy brown-and-white voile to make curtains from, and once those are hung I might decide it's just a little too much punch, and try bleaching the curtain to make it more muted. Who knows. Decorating is such an evolutionary thing.

Oh, and for reference, this is a close-up of the trim before.

YUCK! Kids, don't smoke. This is what happens. Smoking will turn your crisp white window trim to dinge in no time.

So, here's another thing crossed off my before-Christmas punch list. ~~Paint downstairs bathroom~~. Check!

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How I A-door

2011-11-16T08:40:00.001-05:00

There's a long list written on a yellow legal pad in my dining room, and yesterday I got to cross off two things:

Paint kitchen ceiling (check!)
Hang headboard

It's the to-do-before-Christmas list. This is my first time hosting Christmas, and also our first Christmas living here. It's important to do it up right, and apparently to me doing it up right involves a 71 1/4" door hung on the wall in our bedroom. The door came from our Binghamton house, where it had moldered in the attic for who knows how long. At some point somebody hacked the upstairs of that house into pieces, and there was one door too many. So we've brought it here to live with us, a nice reminder of our old house.

It wasn't an overly difficult project, but it did involve a table saw at the last minute. Fortunately, both dads own table saws. How crazy is that? You know you're in a DIY family when...

All I did was trim a few inches off one end (to center the panel), paint it (three coats), and then follow these crazy ingenious instructions to hang it on the wall, all while holding my breath.

Our bedroom continues to make progress. Now for a new bedspread and a rug and some rearranged art and to hem the curtains... and a full length mirror... oh, it's still a very long road ahead. One step at a time, one step at a time.

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Last hike

2011-11-14T09:21:00.001-05:00

November has been kind, weather-wise. After September's two hurricanes and October's snow, we were overdue for some kind weather. It's been in the fifties and even sixties for two weeks. The rarity and wonder of this fact is not lost on me.

I know this time is fleeting. November is a flighty month.

This year, we've already set out on three hikes we thought would be "our last" of the season, but yesterday we found ourselves striking out on yet another.

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, and more snow predicted this week, I was pretty sure this would be our real last hike. I savored more than usual: wrinkled berries hung like ornaments on winter-ready bushes, great drifts of crispy oak leaves, milkweed pods setting their down adrift in the breeze, the sapphire blue of reflected sky. The bravery of one extremely cold-tolerant frog.

November's colors we often miss entirely in this month of freezing drizzle and knife-edged wind.

Now we have the whole winter ahead to sit and dream and anticipate next year's hikes. A whole season of mornings to sit inside with oatmeal and wool socks and watch, and be thankful I don't have anywhere to go away from my oatmeal and my wool socks. At least on those mornings, twice a week, when I get to stay home. The more I think about it, the more I'm looking forward to it. Can you tell?

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