Jonah's Christmas Quilt

When my children were young, I made them each a Christmas Quilt. When they had children of their own, I gave the quilts to them. Austin now has Aaron's quilt and Emmett has Kate's quilt. Emmett loves "his" quilt and was not inclined to share it with his younger brother, Micah. Honestly, I didn't think he should have to share so I made a quilt for Micah. A week or so after I finished Micah's quilt, my daughter and son-in-law announced they were having another child. First I knit Jonah a Christmas stocking, then I began his quilt.

Jonah's quilt contains many of the same motifs as his brothers but unlike the others, I set the blocks together with sashing. After arranging them, I merrily cut and sewed the green vertical pieces to blocks, forgetting to square up the blocks. I fudged and fumed as I ripped out long and short seams. Eventually I lined up the blocks as best as I could and sewed the top together. My excuse is that I was sewing while taking antibiotics. Or maybe I'm just getting forgetful. It's a good thing I love these little guys like crazy.

I had the top machine quilted by a local woman. Her work is meticulous and she is really a quilting artist. She matches thread color to compliment each motif and piece. She combines stippling and designs in a way that makes a quilt sing. On this quilt, the red border is quilted with red Christmas trees. She quilted around each tiny snowflake in the plain bright blue fabric blocks. On the light blue fabric blocks she quilted a large snowflake. She also saved the angel by quilting a wing that I had forgotten.

Each Christmas quilt includes something unique for each child. When I made Aaron's quilt, he requested "stars that twinkle." Aaron/Austin's quilt is pieced stars with sashing that meets in a small star at the corner of each block. The three brothers have motifs I traced from an old coloring book. Kate/Emmett's quilt has a boy and a girl hanging up their stockings. Both Kate and Aaron's quilts have a poem/message written to them. Micah's quilt has an extra lamb as he has a beloved 'baa baa." Jonah won the snow and snowman lottery for winters in the northeast. The quilts are set together differently.  Each quilt contains a sprinkle of mistakes topped with a heaping scoop of love. Little Jonah will have a Christmas quilt when he moves out of his crib. Meanwhile, I have to figure out the best way to get this quilt from Nebraska to the East Coast. Perhaps a hand delivery and a hug would be best.

P.S. I realize the quilt photo skims off the top of my head. It was either me or the quilt. I opted to show the quilt.

Summer Moments

As July winds down, I'd like to slow the passage of this summer. We have stayed close to home, enjoying the garden, reading, knitting, sewing, and spending time with our three grandsons. Here are a few highlights from July:

My book group met at A Novel Idea, a local used bookstore with a good inventory of fiction and nonfiction. We spent a pleasant few hours browsing books, enjoying cold drinks, and chatting with two bookstore employees. Both are avid readers so it was fun to compare notes. Part of the charm of this bookstore is finding the unexpected. I happened onto The Last Gift of Time: Life Beyond Sixty, a book of essays by Carolyn Heilbrun. The author was a professor at Columbia University during a time when women struggled to be accepted in academia. I particularly enjoyed "Unmet Friends," an essay about the kinship she felt with poet Maxine Kumin. Since the two women never met, Heilbrun's sense of kinship with Kumin allowed her to explore the relationship between reader and writer. Some essays are dated but they remind me of the strides women have made in my lifetime. Helibrun lived about the same time as my mother which may have been another reason I enjoyed reading her work.

Now and then, our four-year old grandson and I take a field trip around town. Late Spring, Lincoln hosted a public art project to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Lighthouse, a program that benefits middle and high school students during after school hours. Large lightbulbs have been decorated by community artists and installed around town. E. and I are driving around to look at them. We have fun locating them on a city map, planning a route, and then finding them. Now when either of us says, "I have an idea . . ." we joke that a lightbulb has gone on. I will remember this"lightbulb summer" for a long time. I hope he does too.

His younger brother, soon to be two, doesn't have the patience for lightbulbs but he loves to read. Currently truck books are his favorite. This sweet little guy will pick out a book, pat the couch and say, "sit down, read" meaning he wants the adult to sit down so he can snuggle up with his favorite books. I am grateful to the creator of "Little Blue Truck" as it gives us lots of time together.

We had a surprise visit from our Texas daughter-in-law and grandson. We took A. and E. out to A's favorite breakfast spot for waffles and hot chocolate with sprinkles and whipped cream.

Early this month, my husband and I attended the funeral of an elderly gentleman. He lived a good long life, worked hard, and loved his family. He was ill and his death was not expected. At his request, pizza and salad were served after the service. Having grown up during the Depression, I doubt he complained of the customary cold cut/macaroni and jello salad lunches often served at funerals. Still his request for pizza brought smiles to the faces of his family and friends. Later in the day I stopped at a local fabric store to buy some buttons for a baby sweater. The little lime green sweater seemed to call for ladybug buttons. I found some just the right size.  As is my custom, I parked a distance from the store in order to walk extra steps. Not too far from my car was a sweet patch of wildflowers. I had never seen them before and they were certainly prettier than cedar bark mulch under traditional landscaping plants.

These summer days filled with ordinary moments have been quite wonderful.  More please.

Happy Thanksgiving

This year, Thanksgiving marks the end of a glorious autumn. Perhaps because southeast Nebraska had adequate rainfall in May and June and fewer 100 degree days, the fall colors were gorgeous. In October I took several walks in a wooded park.  Although the area is different from the evergreens and forests of north central Minnesota and Wisconsin or the Rocky Mountains, these woods, with oak, elm, and hackberry trees, have a rustic beauty of their own.  

Early in October, I examined the last chicory blossoms which I have long admired while driving on highways. One quiet afternoon, I stood still and identified a flicker, a downy woodpecker, and several red-bellied woodpeckers hopping up and down large trunks. I still wonder how birds, without binocular vision, dart through a wooded area without flying into trees.  I finally understood how purple can be an autumn color and wondered if I could find yarn in a similar color.  At the end of the month, I savored the smell of decaying leaves and the last golden light of October.

My favorite walk was the one I took with my daughter and grandsons. The three year old was exuberant with his discoveries. When we came upon a downed tree, he explored the hollow trunk and thought hard about what kind of animal might shelter inside. After he bent over to study a fuzzy caterpillar, he watched it "go home to its mama" and chose a broken stick for a treasure. He eagerly walked to the next bend in the woods looking for a deer but was happy to find a milkweed pod. We paused on the trail while he worried it might sting. After we assured him it was a plant not an insect, he worked up the courage to touch the rough exterior of the pod and laughed as the soft fluff and seed grazed his hand. The baby slept in a front pack carrier on his mother's chest. He woke up as we were returning to the car so she took him out and held him so he could see the afternoon light coming through the trees.

Now, it is late November. I will miss the scarlet and butterscotch leaves of this glorious autumn. Something in the west wind tells me it is time to draw in, grind up cranberries, roast a turkey breast, and wrap up in wool. The first dusting of snow fell last week and my grandson called to ask if I liked to go sledding. Echoing one of his favorite responses I replied, "Sounds fun." As some wise person (whose name I can't remember) said, "Thanksgiving is about what you have." I am so thankful for all that I have and wish the same for you. Happy Thanksgiving.