Sweetfern Handmade ~ Crafts, Recipes, Creativity

The little desk that could

2009-11-11T15:43:00.005-05:00

...done! And I'm delighted. Considering I mixed the paint in the basement, dumping together a little of this and a little more of that until I shrugged and gave up... I think I got pretty lucky.

It seems to be a color that's pretty friendly towards bright yellow walls, and also to red apples in white bowls. A good thing.

Unfortunately, my whole motivation for the project was to have a place to put my bread machine... but now that the desk is done, I'm not sure I want to cover it up with an appliance. Anyone have any clever small-appliance concealing tricks?

Cool and sunny, with a chance of apples

2009-11-09T11:12:00.004-05:00

It was a good weekend.

There was sweet old cemetery-walking.

Bright apple-gazing.

Delicious dinner-eating. (Thanks Mom!)

And heated Pictionary-playing.

Where did the days take you this weekend?

A saga: silk slipcovers that nearly killed me

2009-11-06T10:21:00.008-05:00

My first mistake, looking back, was buying silk.

Who hasn't been there: it's the nameless racks and aisles of a giant, corporate fabric store. Whatever surety you had about what you wanted to make has fizzled at the sight of bolts and bolts and bolts of luscious fabric.

You round a corner, somewhere between Interfacing Infinity and The World of Wool, and there you behold the Clearance Section. A dangerous place.

If you're like me, you uncover buried treasure: a bolt of copper-colored dupioni silk, its label a happy procession of sucessively lower prices. You gasp: $6 a yard!

In my defense, I did hesitate before folding it under my arm and marching to the cutting counter. Silk slipcovers, really? My practical side pointed out its faults: delicate, hard-to-work-with, and, curse of curses, dry clean only. Was I convinced? No. My inner cavalier bought three yards.

What followed was a ridiculous and trying series of events. I can laugh about it, now that they're done, but for awhile it was touch and go. It took me three whole days just to make a pattern for the project, even before I cut into the material. When I did cut, I cut wrong. I sewed together a tapered form that had no hope of ever fitting over the back of the chair.

I cursed and pulled out seams. I re-drew the pattern. I realized I was going to need more fabric.

I realized I was going to need more fabric...

No one ever wants to come to that realization. Especially when the fabric in question was clearance, and is probably gone, and if not gone, expensive.

This was the only ray of sunshine in the entire journey of this project: I found it, there amid the towering piles. I heard harps. I felt the presence of divine intervention. There were three yards left. I bought them all. And then a choir of angels picked me up and carried me to my car.

The rest of the project proceeded in ordinary fashion: more screw-ups, more sewing things on backwards and inside out. More cursing and pulling out seams.

With about 45 seconds' worth of stitching left to go, my sewing machine started sucking great wads of thread down into the bobbin case. The needle broke.

It was the end of a long day. I calmly turned off my machine and walked away. In the morning, everything was fine. I finished my seam, clipped my threads, and did a happy dance. Done, done, done!

They have met with Pete's approval. (Always important.)

And my favorite thing: they have bows in back. Yeee.

Now off to sew something ridiculously simple and let my craft ego recover from this battering.

Lessons from Liz

2009-11-05T10:20:00.003-05:00

I get blog crushes. Does anybody else do this? Periodically I'll zero in on one of the many (many many) blogs I follow, and become a wee bit stalker-ish. My already undying bloggy admiration will morph into something a little more awed and insistent. I'll walk around for two weeks filling Patrick's poor head with "Oh and her paint colors, blah blah blah, and she does the cutest embroidery, yeah, that too. AND she made the most delicious looking pancakes last week!" And, because Patrick is a good husband, he will nod patiently, pretend at a sweet (though slightly patronizing) interest in paint, embroidery, and pancakes, and wait for the storm to pass.

Anyway, my blog-crush-of-the-moment is Mabel's House. Autumn is the season for nesting, and this being autumn, well, I am nesting. Each year brings a procession of little projects I am stirred to complete before settling down to winter. Inspired to paint by my new-found love (ha ha), I covered a very scratched (yet highly adorable) nightstand in a color called Corduroy.

(Corduroy? What the heck kind of name for a color is that? And why is it gold? Most of the corduroy I've seen in my life has been brown. Maybe whoever named the color saw that episode of Sex and the City with Steve's gold corduory suit. Does anyone know what I'm talking about?)

Anyway, this project is done, and I'm pleased. As luck would have it, I have a (also very scratched) dresser that would match perfectly with this... and I think I have enough paint to cover that as well. Maybe someday they'll make the perfect spare-bedroom furniture set. Which would be for when we actually have a spare bedroom big enough for more than just a bed and nightstand. Someday.

Kitchen update

2009-11-04T13:32:00.003-05:00

Three weeks to go. Progress has been slow lately, mainly due to Halloween and its attendant festivities. New desk has a fresh coat of snowy white primer, and is in the process of donning a mantel of shimmery green. The nightstand has been relocated to the guest room. It is waiting for me to make it the star of its very own blog post. Soon, friend, soon.

Last night, I broke out the step ladder and the cleaning rag. At least this only happens once a year.

Early evenings, and mom's soup

2009-11-02T14:15:00.005-05:00

You know what I love? The start of daylight savings time. Oh sure, reality will hit me when I drive home with my headlights on tonight, but for right now, the romance is sweet. Did anyone else go to bed at 9:30 last night? Our usual lay-in-bed-and-watch-a-movie time begins around 10:30, but last night we hoodwinked ourselves into bed an hour early. Because even though it said 9:30, it was really 10:30.

And waking up at 6 am only to face the delight of a bonus hour of sleep? Heaven.

Yesterday evening, to celebrate the changing light (and detox after a beer and junk-filled weekend) I cooked up a pot of my mom's lentil soup, and baked a loaf of seedy bread.

Watching my mom make lentil soup was my best and most serviceable kitchen lesson as a child. She never sat me down and instructed me in the process, but I saw her do it so many, many times, I didn't need a recipe when I moved into my own place.

As I settled in with my cutting board and a counter-full of vegetables, I reflected. It's a pretty big gift I've been given-- not just the soup, but the resourcefulness and pride in a tidy kitchen, a warm, loving house, and a meal made from scratch. As I stood stirring, I was back again in the low-ceilinged kitchen of my parent's house, bare feet on the linoleum floor with my back to the woodstove. I was sitting at the table, feeling warm and cared-for, oblivious to the lesson I was learning, the osmosis of all domestic arts I was taking in.

When the soup was done, I made a place at the table for myself and my husband, and we lit candles in the early dark. The soup was delicious. Thanks mom.

Mom's Lentil Soup

1 tbsp olive oil

2 medium onions, peeled and chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

3 stalks celery, sliced

1 15-oz can stewed tomatoes

1 bay leaf

1 tsp dried oregano

1/2 tsp dried thyme

1 cup dried lentils, rinsed and picked-over

4 cups vegetable broth

2 large carrots, sliced into half-moons
A few grinds of black pepper

salt to taste-- start with 1/2 tsp and go from there

Optional-- a few tablespoons of marinade from a jar of marinated artichokes. Or you can substitute a dash of balsamic, red wine vinegar, or lemon juice.

Warm the olive oil in the bottom of a big soup pot. Toss in the onions, garlic, and celery, and saute until tender, about 10-12 minutes. Add the seasonings, tomatoes, lentils, and vegetable stock. Cover and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook 15 minutes, or until the lentils are almost tender. Add the carrots. Cook another ten minutes. Taste and adjust the seasonings, add the artichoke marinade if using, ladle into bowls, and serve.

Have you seen my sheep?

2009-10-30T10:26:00.004-04:00

I'm not someone known for brilliant, exciting Halloween costumes. I tend to aim for something instantly recognizable (god forbid someone doesn't "get" my costume), which often lands me on the mundane side of the fence. Also, I don't do ghouls or goblins. I want something comfortable (maybe even flattering) and feminine. Last year I was a country singer. Two years ago I was a girl scout. This year I am Little Bo Peep.

If trends continue, I could see a long procession of fable-y characters beginning.

Another plus: costumes like this tend to be pretty easy to pull together. I had a frilly blouse and a frilly skirt, stockings, and shoes. I made myself a little bonnet, and picked up an old cane at an antique shop for $5 (because what's little bo peep without a shepherd's crook?) What are you or your kids' costumes this season?

This weekend finds me headed to Ithaca tonight for some pre-Halloween mayhem and gal time with one of my favorite people. Saturday I'll be working at the cafe--in costume-- and am eagerly anticipating the creatures and characters I will encounter while I'm there. It promises to be a busy one. What are your Halloween plans?

The new desk, or, getting over wood

2009-10-29T10:10:00.003-04:00

It's waiting for me when I get home from work tonight. The new desk, freshly sanded, and also a quart of greenish grayish paint ready for brushing.

I'm trying to get over my love affair with wood. Wood is prissy and high-maintenance. Just when you've found a perfect little desk and hauled it homeward, you're hit with a massive undertaking: the sanding, the stripping, the re-finishing. That is, if you're a die-hard wood lover, like me. There is not one single piece of painted furniture anywhere in our house. Die hard. See?

Helping me in my withdrawal from wood are the following:
1) The fact that I was able to mix a color I love from paint I had on hand
2) Mabel's House
3) The ominous and ever-shortening distance between now and aforementioned impending holidays

Four weeks. It's time to break out the brushes, folks.

Thanksgiving update

2009-10-28T10:21:00.005-04:00

Thanksgiving progress update: four weeks out.

Some pretty corners beginning to emerge around the house.

Ceramic birds perching on ledges. To-do lists overpopulating on the dining room table. Hours spent laying in bed, eyes squinched shut, trying desperately not to run through every proposed menu item and the work it will require...

Dubious progress on back kitchen.

Last week:
This week:

Dubious. Yes. The nightstand has been painted, and after this evening's touch-ups it will hopefully find a home in our guest room. I've begun to sand the desk. The windows, visible in the earlier picture, have been re-glazed, re-painted, and re-hung.

What's keeping me awake at night is the two copper-colored dupioni silk slipcovers I'm supposed to make, the bedroom floor that's supposed to get redone, and the miles of white window-trim to be scrubbed and shined.

Four weeks to go. Eeep.

A Sunday hike

2009-10-26T10:57:00.003-04:00

I'd begun to lose hope that we'd get another day like this. October was unusually cold, dark, and rainy in these parts (this seems to be the theme for the year...), and once we got past mid-month, I'd about given up hope for a sunny reprise, a bit of indian summer.

Thank goodness, a bright and warmish fall day. A day for a hike.

Hooray for state parks. And for October sunshine, and wizened witch hazel flowers, and for geese.

And appropriately Halloween-ish fungi.

And fearless determined log-walking terriers.

And peaceful car rides homeward.

Post-Industrial Household Artifacts, with quilt

2009-10-23T12:31:00.005-04:00

This was the scene on my dining room table yesterday evening. It isn't always clean and tidy. (Rarely, in fact.) Oftentimes it's the scene of an epic battle between sewing projects and squashes, periodicals and paint cans. All is cleared away for dinner, but in between mealtimes, chaos reigns supreme.

Click on the photo below for an interpretive view:

Oh well, at least it's colorful.

Most excellent mushrooms

2009-10-22T12:09:00.004-04:00

So, you know what we haven't had in awhile? A recipe. Remember back when food used to be one of the things this blog was about?

A few things conspired to push me away from kitchen-blogging:
1) I was in the midst of one steamy-windowed canning session after another
2) The light began to ebb out of early evenings (see above) causing all photos to have either a weird fuzzy yellow glow or be sort of washed-out and grayish.
3) I made several extremely-un-photogenic meals. Bread puddings, and casseroles in general, are not blogworthy foods.

But. The light isn't going to get better until, April, say, and meanwhile its autumn, hands-down my favorite time to cook. There's squashes and swarthy root vegetables to contend with, thready carrots and voluptuous onions and the heralded return of soup season. Thus, I bring you the above, a most excellent autumn meal.

The "main course," a roasted portobello cap with black beans and a sprinkling of blue cheese, tastes far more delicious that you would think. The textural contrast between the moist, earthy mushroom and the nutty beans is almost enough on its own. Add cheese and it's otherworldly. This has become one of Patrick's and my special occasion dinners, one to look forward to all week long. If you don't like blue cheese, feta would make a fine substitute.

Black-bean stuffed Portobellos with Blue cheese

6 hefty portobello caps, stems removed
2 cups black beans (preferably home-cooked, though beans from a can will work in a pinch)
4 oz crumbled blue cheese

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Arrange your portobellos gill-side-up on a cookie sheet. Fill each with a generous spoonful of beans, and an equally generous sprinkling of cheese. Bake as close to the top of your oven as you can for about 15-20 minutes, until the mushrooms are adequately cooked and the cheese is slightly melty. If desired, you can finish them under the broiler for a minute, to imbue the cheese with a nice toasty color.

Anything and Everything Roast Vegetables

Assorted vegetables, suitable for roasting:
Beets
Carrots
Potatoes
Turnips
Parsnips
Sweet potatoes

Yellow onions

Whole garlic cloves

Brussels sprouts
Cauliflower

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees.

Cut things into similarly-sized chunks: peel beets and the like beforehand; cut the onions into wedges; halve the brussels sprouts; divide the cauliflower into florets. The vegetables in the top group are firmer and need to roast for 45 minutes. Mix them together with a tablespoon of olive oil and a half-tablespoon of balsamic vinegar per pound of vegetables. Spread them out on a cookie sheet or roasting pan, salt and pepper liberally, and let them roast.

After about twenty minutes, you can add any other, softer vegetables you desire. Toss them with oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper, too.

When the vegetables are all soft enough to eat, pull them out of the oven and try to keep your husband from grabbing them right off the tray.

Enjoy!

A pause in the action, and a return

2009-10-21T12:23:00.003-04:00

Would you like to hear an excuse for where I've been the past three weeks? I could come up with one, I'm sure, but it would sound pretty pathetic. Blah blah blah, family events, blah blah blah, dirty kitchen, blah blah blah, wrapping up canning and freezing and getting sucked in to Christmas present-making, but really? Really I just needed a break. A wee one. I had the past week off from my day job. In that time, I focused a mighty momentum on our little house, and busted out a string of projects that felt good to accomplish.

This is a busy time of year. Everyone knows. Not only are there the preparations for winter, the end-of-harvest food preservation doings, there's Christmas looming large as well, with Thanksgiving tucked in there for good measure.

In the past two weeks, I've taken a very serious look at our house, and appraised the five remaining weeks left in the calendar, and gotten a little queasy. I hosted Thanksgiving for the first time last year. It was a big deal. At the time, I was not working. I was, truth-to-tell, a little bit bored. What better cure for boredom than the excuse to pour heart and soul into a whopper of a meal plan, a menu worthy of Nobel-prize commendation? (They should have a category for that, they really should.) This year, I have two jobs. Things will be different. The next five weeks are going to be very very full.

So in the calm-before-the-storm, I had to step back and ready myself. I went and enjoyed the aesthetics of chickens:

The Farmer's Museum, Cooperstown, NY

I baked hamburger cupcakes.

I handily beat Patrick at Scrabble.

I did some peaceful cemetery strolling.

I did some shopping.

Quite a lot, actually.

I bought a little cottage-style nightstand, and an antique desk in need of refinishing. As a result, the back of our kitchen now looks like this:

Suffice to say, it's going to be a busy five weeks.

What projects are you undertaking this autumn?

In the season

2009-10-05T18:14:00.003-04:00

The pictures tell the story better than words ever could. So I'll leave you to them:

It was everything an October hike should be.

Preparations: baking bread

2009-10-02T12:43:00.002-04:00

Nothing like coming home to a 58-degree house to inspire one to turn on the oven. Since this week has brought us lows in the 30s, there's been a lot of baking going on at our house. A lot of baking, and roasting, and card-playing, and generally hanging out in the warmest room of the house: the kitchen.

This time of year, it's always a battle of willpower to decide when we'll wimp out and turn on the furnace. October 1st is usually the point at which we cave in, but with sunny mid-60s weather on the way this weekend, there's the motivation to stretch our furnace-less time a few more days. Why not? There's plenty of baking to do.

And there's nothing nicer than a warm and aromatic kitchen on a raw autumn day. When I came back from a twilight stroll to the garden with a handful of muddy carrots, stepping through the door and into a bright and bread-scented house was divine.

A hot mug of tea, quilt-covered knees, and many pieces of warm seedy toast with butter later, the house was a habitable 62 degrees, and I almost relished putting on flannels for bedtime.

Preparations

2009-09-30T15:03:00.002-04:00

Autumn brings an irresistable urge to bake, and treats to go with it. Behold, for my kitchen has been taken over by oven mitts, brown sugar, and cinnamon-y goodness. This was the pear-cranberry crisp I made last night, using Molly Katzen's recipe from the (newly acquired) Sunlight Cafe. I love that it's a brunch and breakfast cookbook, and that it contains recipes for fruit crisps and cobblers. Because we were all secretly looking for an excuse to eat dessert for breakfast.

Preparations

2009-09-28T18:29:00.002-04:00

Stockings-- one of my favorite things about fall.

I love them coiled all snailish and sweet. They'll be keeping the knees of this die-hard skirt-wearer warm on many a chilly autumn night.

Preparations

2009-09-27T14:47:00.002-04:00

This is one of the best things: a cold rainy fall day, a warm kitchen with a whistling tea kettle. I just spent the better part of the day in there, puttering away and humming, listening to some of my favorite autumn music (Uncle Earl, Jo Serrapere), and just basically being in love with being home.

In spring and summer, we thrill in getting out, exploring, adventuring, seeing the new and being seen. Come fall, we turn inward. All of a sudden, it's a September Sunday and I'm laying in bed fantasizing about spending the day with my kitchen. It's the best possible date: there is music, and good smells, and hot tea and a floor to dance on if the mood strikes.

Now I am picking sage. Now I am chopping an onion. Bit by bit, there's the release of the wild expectations of summer, the humble simple acceptance of fall. It's like a drug. I've been grooving to it all week.

I hope fall is finding you similarly enchanted.

Preparations

2009-09-25T17:04:00.003-04:00

Putting squash in baskets. That's just one of those autumn things, isn't it? At least around these parts.

Also, I got my favorite table runner out of its drawer. I own exactly four table runners, and they change with the seasons. This is one of my rituals: the old one gets washed and folded, the new one gets pressed and spread out.

Preparations

2009-09-24T16:59:00.004-04:00

Today I filled jars and freezer bags, stuffing in as much summer as I could. By noon, scarlet jars lined the countertops, a sauce-pot sputtered on the stove, and every window in the house was covered with a thick, runny layer of condensation. Patrick's glasses fogged immediately when he came home from work and ventured into the kitchen.

Returned

2009-09-23T16:20:00.004-04:00

We are back from the beach, and ready to launch ourselves headlong into autumn. It felt like a good transition point, three sandy days to take in the sun and reflect on our summer.

Back home, the leaves are trickling down from our black walnut tree, the asters are in full swing and the sedums are fading away. I was only too happy to rise early and get down to business: canning 50 pounds of tomatoes, and making preparations for a new season.

Thanks to my wonderful inlaws for warmth and good cheer, and wine on the balcony.

Headed off

2009-09-19T20:46:00.002-04:00

Jersey shore, here we come. For the next three days, I plan on emulating this guy as much as possible.

Sunshine? Check.
Immotility? Check.
Smile? Check.

Back Wednesday.

My new apron

2009-09-16T15:08:00.004-04:00

It was a fitful night. I suppose I should've known better than to spend time poring over old Anthropologie catalogs and this gorgeous blog while in bed, but suffice to say it was a bad idea. My brain was filled with beautiful and irresistible visions of things to sew, and no matter how many times I rolled over, no matter how many times I let my mouth fall open and made peace with the puddle of drool on my pillow, I still couldn't sleep. The fitfulness culminated with the two-am decision that I absolutely could not let the sun go down on another day without finishing my Emmeline apron, the pattern for which has been sitting in my craft room since last November.

So. This was the only possible course of action. To absolutely haul through the project, from pressing the pattern pieces to clipping the last pesky threads, and to not rest until I could tie it on. I was a driven woman, head bent to my mission, squinting at that shiny needlepoint.

In retrospect, I would say: do not try this at home. This is not a one-day project. Though it is, emphatically, the absolute most adorable apron I have ever worn (or will ever wear), and despite the fact that I now look cuter in my kitchen than I do in any other room of our house... well, it was still a godawful lot of work. I should not have rushed it. I should've let myself be calm and meditative, not driven.

But damnit, sometimes enough is enough. Sometimes you've just let an unfinished project linger so long it shows up and proceeds to drive you out of your mind at two am.

Well, I've put it to rest now. Whew. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to don a very adorable apron and make me some borscht.

Old cemeteries

2009-09-15T14:00:00.004-04:00

What is it about old cemeteries? Patrick and I have a bit of a fascination. We like to head for them on Saturday mornings, choosing one or two we haven't yet explored from one of the tucked-away crossroads that used to be a town. The older the better. Tumbling stone walls are sweet and endearing, as are towering old cedar trees. Happily we putter down the snaggledy rows of graves, calling out the more interesting names to each other:

"Mehetable Jones!"
"Orange P. Phelps!"
"Content Kingsley, 1803."
"Nehemiah Briggs, hey, Revolutionary War."

Of course, underneath their outright interestingness and gentle creepiness, there's something peaceful and almost romantic about them. So many lives no one remembers, so many husbands resting next to their wives under the hydrangea blossoms. So many little tombstones, all in a row. If I let myself, I can get carried away with the traces of stories in these places, so many of them unspeakably sad. What would it have been like, living back then? Life was a lot riskier then, and death a much bigger part of everyday life.

This past weekend we went exploring in New Berlin, NY. I couldn't resist taking a picture of this very unusual grave marker:

Yes, that's a tree trunk, carved out of marble, complete with ferns, bark, and twining ivy. And a cross, lashed onto the pretend-tree with pretend-rope. This one isn't so much on the gentle side of creepy.

It's on the creepy side of creepy. The family plot is demarcated with matching pretend tree stumps, each bearing a carved O for Oatley, the family surname.

Why a tree? Was this guy a nature-lover? A wood cutter? A gnome enthusiast? Is there symbolism here, and why, in all the old-cemetery-sleuthing we've done, have we never come upon anything similar before?

I guess old J. Clark took these secrets with him to a spot under his very own pretend tree trunk.

Edit: This link explains everything. Woodmen of the World. Who knew?

A simple ritual

2009-09-10T10:20:00.002-04:00

This is Wine Night. When the weather is benevolent, it looks like this: upstairs porch, feet on the railing, twilight. After it gets dark, we turn on the twinkle lights (which you can't see in the picture) for some glowy ambiance. In colder months, we camp ourselves in front of the (electric) fireplace, dim the lights, and generally savor the roof over our heads and the four sturdy walls of our house.

Regardless of the season, no matter what life hands us, we almost always manage to find one evening a week for this: a bottle of wine evenly divided between two glasses, and some quiet couple time.

The wine loosens our minds a little, makes us able to say things to each other we wouldn't ordinarily say. Good things. Things that are important for us to say, and to hear. Sometimes we talk about money, or food, or an interesting story on NPR. More often than not, though, we talk about our dreams. We sit together, sip our wine, and look into our future.

It's just a simple little ritual. But it gives us something to look forward to in the week: a little calm and clarity, time together that's sweet and meaningful. As busy as our lives may get, I'd like there to always be time for this.

What are your household rituals?