Dried Figs and Wooden Spools

digging in

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Thu, 23 May 2013 17:25:00 +0000

Oh the garden. It seems like it's been a looooong time in coming. And it's still not done. Not that it will ever really be done. Or big enough. But I mean done enough to plant. We've got plants and sets to go in and I think we are past our frost date. I think. I hope.

Because we've got so many things that need to be done in the spring- grass to plant, flowers to put in, trees to chop down, firewood to get in and stack, chickens to chicken dance with, the garden will be smaller than I'd like this year an the paths are just hard ground with patches of mulch here and there where we filled low places. But still, there's soil and walls to keep it (sort of) in. So we are almost there. Ready to plant.

Since we've got a lot (a LOT) of fallen rotted wood and leaf mulch laying around, we are trying something new this year. Hugelkultur, which I found while puttering around Pinterest looking at woodland gardens. The idea, as I understand it, is to fill the bed up mostly with rotted wood and then composted leaf mulch and then soil on the top. The plan being that the wood both rots into nice, mulch soil eventually and in the meantime it hold water from the rain, releasing it to the plants as needed. At least that's the plan. We'll see if it actually works once we have all the soil in and the plants planted.

Where are you in your garden plans for the summer?

fur pants on a wednesday morning

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Wed, 22 May 2013 16:38:00 +0000

You never know where motherhood will take you. In a single day you might be wiping noses, helping with algebra, baking snacks for a school party and sending out emails to the soccer team reminding everyone of the next game on top of making sure everyone gets fed and dropped off at the right place at the right time. It's how motherhood, parenthood roles. Never a dull moment. You might be cleaning rooms (borderline disgusting when you have a pre-teen) or reading with a class or filling out camp forms or, you know, sitting at home on a beautiful Wednesday morning making fur pants for your ten year old.

Have I talked much about my children's school? It's the kind of place that former teachers dream of sending their kids. It's an amazing place. A sort of waldorfy, montessouriy, crazy Vermonty public school where the nicest lady in the world makes HOME MADE BREAD every day for lunch and grows most of the vegetables for the school's meals. Where my kids have skiing lessons AND swimming lessons as part of the curriculum and where I have never once heard, not even from my ten year old, "I don't want to go to school." They paint and sing and go fishing and build forts and still manage to do all the normal school things. It's a pretty awesome place.

The first week of school I attended a parents meeting for the upper grades to learn about their systems, their reliance on kids being responsible for most things and just generally how things worked, and at the end of the meeting one of the teachers said "And the kids are not even allowed to ASK about The Battle of Sparta until after Christmas."

This left me a little, flummoxed, but I just went with it. I decided it was like the best piece of advice I got prior to heading off to the U of O for my freshman year "If anyone asks if you've read the worlds funniest joke book say yes and IMMEDIATELY WALK AWAY." It's the kind of advice that you don't really understand until the moment it becomes relevant, and then you're glad you know it (I used that, by the way, within my first few hours of being on campus) So I put Sparta out of my mind.

And then came spring and The Greek Unit. The kids are divided into Greek City States and are battling it out (mostly with costumes, food and knowledge, no actual fighting) for top honors a la the Hogwarts House Cup. Yes, it's awesome. And time consuming. But also fun. SO far we've made, two togas (chiton, actually, not that I know the difference, but he does) full Spartan Armor our of mostly duct tape with a wreath form and a little cardboard thrown in for support, baked Greek bread in the shape of a lyre, gone through two cans of bronze spray paint and one of red, and read a lot of Greek Mythology. There have been models of ships and usable battle carts and many types of food, all leading up the the banquet of the gods where Briton will be playing the roll of Pan. Hence the fur pants.

Now I just need to go make some horns and dye a t-shirt skin tones (he wanted to go bare chested but I'm thinking that's not really the best plan) and clean up the stray fur off my dining room floor. It looks like a particularly vicious fisher-cat fight happened in there at the moment.

the ladies

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 20 May 2013 13:34:00 +0000

Our little chicken are, predictably, getting a lot of love and attention (how could they not with all that fluffiness?) and so they are very used to us already. They eat quite happily out of our hands and hop up onto our fingers and cheep loudly until we open the door to the bathroom (their temporary home) when the stop and look at us expectantly, hoping for food or playtime, which we generally offer up with smiles and coos.

The older ladies, also predictably, are a little more standoffish. They were raised among lots of other hens in a large farmyard with no kids around. Although they had lots of dogs and are absolutely not afraid of Nigella. In fact, this weekend, as everyone but the cats puttered in the garden, it became pretty clear who is in charge of the backyard (it's not the dog, in case you were wondering) But little by little, they are getting used to us. They don't run to the other side of the coop when we approach anymore and once we catch them when they are roaming (still a little tricky, but we're getting there) they are happy to be held and pet and generally loved on.

It's been a long time since we had chickens in our yard. In Charlottesville, of course, we had the neighborhood coop, but it wasn't quite the same. Having them clucking and boking away as I check the bees or watch the kids or just walk to the car makes me smile. Every time.

Two eggs a day doesn't hurt either.

green green mountains

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Thu, 16 May 2013 12:34:00 +0000

It happened all of a sudden. For so long it's been everything but green. Reds and yellows and ambers in fall. And then the brown of stick season and the white of winter. And the yuck of mud. It felt like the green would never come back and then one weekend, it was. Green, green as far as you can see. Every drive is breathtaking. Every view is beautiful. Zipping down the highway puts me in awe, once again, that I get to live here. Green is my favorite color and this week I have been remembering how enchanted I was with all it's shade when we first moved here. It hasn't worn off. In fact, I think it's only gotten worse.

there was a little girl

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Wed, 15 May 2013 12:27:00 +0000

Who had a little curl.

Well, not in the middle of her forehead, but right at the nape of that kissable neck. She has, suddenly, gotten so tall and grown up it seems. Not too grown up for cuddles, but still...

Every time I see that curl I want to run over and kiss her. In fact, most of the time. That's just what I do.

chicks and bees

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 13 May 2013 13:58:00 +0000

It occurred to me yesterday afternoon, as I stood in a grubbier than normal barnyard wearing my new summer tunic (finished that morning because I can't seem to sleep in, even on Mother's Day), my best wool pants and my favorite strappy heels picking out chickens that, in our 17 years together, Will's best surprises have all been marked by me being inappropriately dressed for the situation.

There was that time in college when he woke me up before dawn, handed me a backpack and talked me into walking halfway across Eugene in my Pajamas to surprise me with a train trip to Seattle. In my pajamas.

Or there was the night he proposed to me while I was wearing a pair of his old jeans held up with a rope belt and my oldest, grubbiest sweater because I thought we were going crabbing. Actually,w e did go crabbing, but only after the proposal.

And then yesterday, when he and the kids plotted to surprise me with chickens for Mother's Day.

All awesome, wonderful, totally perfect for me surprises. The inappropriate dress is just part of the game I think.

We have had a very busy weekend here at our house. Or gosh, maybe I should start calling it a farm, the way we're going. Bees and chicks and hens and a finished (barely in the nick of time) coop and progress on the garden and lots of hand drawn cards from my sweet babes. The bees arrived safe and sounds, although half a day late so that we rushed to get them in before the sun went down. The only hiccup in transferring them to their new home was me forgetting to change my shoes from sandals (another instance of inappropriate dress, clearly it's me) and getting a wee little sting on one foot when I stepped on a bee. My fault entirely. Otherwise they were gentle and well mannered and much more interested in bumming around together and eating than what I was doing. I did order Italian bees for a reason. This morning I opened the hive again to check that the queen had escaped her cage, which she had. I did not manage to spot her but the bees were busy building comb and were clumped around one spot so I imagine she was in there being pampered.

The chicks, three Buff Orpington named Rose, Dorothy and Blanch, aka "The Golden Girls" and two Americanas named Feather and Princess Leia, are safely ensconced under a heat lamp in our bathroom, peeping their little hearts out and their elderly sisters, two adult Barred Rocks who are a little camera shy but are named Henny Penny and Minerva Louise are whooping it up in the coop from the sound of their clucking this morning. Hopefully we'll have a few eggs by nightfall.

So, whew, busy. And lovely. And perfect.

a little nervous

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Fri, 10 May 2013 13:59:00 +0000

I've wanted bees for years. Honestly, I'm not exaggerating, years. I think I took my beekeeping class three years ago, and at that point I was SERIOUS about bees. But for as long as I can remember, the beekeeping pages of my dad's (and then later my own copy) of John Seymour (yes, it's very strange that I enjoyed reading that as a teenager, I know, what can I say?) were among my favorite.

But now that we are one day away from the bees actually arriving, I'm nervous. Because the thing is, after all the reading and classes and videos, I still feel like I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. Actually I know I have no idea what I'm doing. Will and I watched the slightly hilarious DVD that came with our hive and at the end he looked at me and asked "you know how to do all that?"

"Sure!"

"Yeah!"

NO! I do NOT know how to dump 3 pounds of buzzing, stinging, live bees into the hive that may or may not be in the right place in our garden. No I do not know how to make the right sugar solution to feed them while they get established and I DEFINITELY do not know how to check and see if my colony is healthy. I don't. I've read about it and watched countless videos and asked lots of questions....but still....

Deep Breath.

Nothing like learning on the job, right?

prepping

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Tue, 07 May 2013 16:32:00 +0000

Thank goodness spring evenings are long. Time enough between dinner - which has lately been eaten hurridly on the porch instead of at the table, the better to get it doen quickly and get outside - and bedtime to have a few precious hours of time in the yard. I won't say garden, because it isn't, yet, but we're getting there. There are so many things I want to do to the yard, too many. Landscaping and grass for playing and tree thinning here and planting there and the vegetable garden and the bee yard and the chicken yarn and a place to sit and eat and laze the summer days away. Too many to realiztically get it done this year. I keep reminding myself that there will be other springs and summers to turn our little bit of neglected woods into the something we have in mind.

Right now we are focusing on the impending needs. Seedlings that need to go into the ground in the next week, bees that will arrive in a matter of days, chickens that need to be bought before it becomes too hard to find what we want. So it's a few beds, instead of many. And if the coop is unpainted for a while, well, so be it. There is no pretty path to the bee yard, just an area wide enough to walk where the blackberries have (I hope) been whacked back into oblivion (the rest have been left alone because...well...blackberry honey sounds pretty good, doesn't it?) There is a lot of bare earth where the bread oven or the flower beds or the grill or the grass will go, when we get to it. In time. I just have to keep chanting that. All in good time.

liberty (fabric)

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 06 May 2013 13:31:00 +0000

I've been sewing more lately. I think now that the weather is warming up and I don't need a sweater and socks and a blanket and a pile of knitting on me all the time to keep me cozy it's opened up a little of my time for sewing. Evelyn, Eliza (or Eleanor) and I have all gotten a new outfit or two out of my sewing bender. I'm on my third incarnation of this tunic, which gets better each time I make it. I used the leftover fabric that I bought (way to much of) for Evelyn's school uniforms last year to make one and am currently in the middle of a buttercup yellow linen version, hopefully to be finished before the weekend so I can wear it in the sun.

But it's not the tunic that's driving this current sewing obsession. It's the Liberty.

I've known about Liberty fabric for a long time. When I was thirteen we spent Christmas visiting family in London and I bought myself a Liberty print notebook that I still have, tucked up in my old trunk. I'm not really a floral kind of girl but there was something about Liberty floral that I loved, even then. My raincoat is lined with Liberty print, which is a sort of secret treat because no one really sees it but me, but I've never sewn with it until recently and I'm absolutely in love.

This summer Evelyn is going to be a flower girl in my best friend's wedding and before I make her dress out of the official flower girl yellow polka dot fabric (so cute) I wanted to do a trial run to make sure the pattern fit. And a good thing too because my skinny minnie is going to need a 4T top and a 6x bottom to have it be the right length. This test run seemed like a good excuse to buy a little Liberty, which I've been petting every time I visit Nido in Burlington. It's honestly a little swoon-worthy. The nicest fabric I've ever sewn with. I'm not sure what it is about it. It's so soft and smooth and is sews beautifully and washes even better. The trial dress has become her favorite thing to wear. In fact, I'm tempted to make another out of some more Liberty. Just so I can sew with it some more.

Eleanor/Eliza got a dress out of the scraps and then another out of another little chunk I bought - Evie picked the blue and I didn't really love it at first, which is why I bought the other to "try" on the doll. But in the end the blue turned out to be so very...Evie, that I love it. I'm not sure if I would ever wear a dress made out of it. Not that I could ever bring myself to pay for the amount of Liberty it would take to make me a dress. Little girl dresses are just barely under the threshold of "how much is that fabric?" as it is. But oh I'm tempted. It's so ridiculously fun to sew with.

lake days

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Fri, 03 May 2013 13:24:00 +0000

We spent the evening at the lake, for the first time since early fall. Hauling fishing poles and knitting baskets and digging buckets and blankets and dinner down to the shore. It's funny, its such a small lake, almost a big pond really. If we wanted we could drive to Lake Champlain or the Green Mountain Reservoir, bigger, fancier lakes. But we don't, at least not often. We come here. To this little lake we love.

Briton, who has a hard time sitting still for much of anything, can fish for hours, standing silently on the edge of the water, watching his bobber for the slightest twitch. He and Will wander down the paths, through the tall grass, to the quite spots they know the fish like. I sit on the bank, knitting, reading, watching the ducks and geese and hawks. Evelyn traipses back and forth between. Fishing for a moment, and then back to the beachy edge to look for tadpoles. Last night she discovered a rock just a few feet into the water, just the right size for her feet and nothing else. It wasn't there last summer. It might not be there next week. Who knows. She waded out to it ans stood there, watching the waves, dancing, singing her new favorite song - "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" It looked a little like she was standing on water. My little nymph.

For a long time we were the only ones there, which is my favorite way to find our lake. Quiet and still. The kids like it when there is a crowd. Dogs and kids and canoes and people. But I love it when it's just us. It feels like the most beautiful place in the world. The lake. The sky. The tress. The four of us.

warm enough

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Thu, 02 May 2013 15:07:00 +0000

It's warm enough to play outside. For hours and hours and hours. To wade in the creek and catch the first baby minnows. To tromp down the bike path and find hidden treasures. Flowers we didn't know were there, wild strawberry plants, the fairy house porch with little plants growing in the flowerpots after the long winter. To play catch (away from the windows please!) and eat dinner on the front steps and come inside for the night exhausted and filthy and happy.

Glorious, wonderful spring.

busy days

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 14:50:00 +0000

We have a thermometer on the wall of our kitchen. It's been there (I think) since the house was first built, reporting on how cold or warm it is outside at that moment. When the needle is pointing directly up, it's 40 degrees. And for months, the needle has mostly leaned to the left. Or even pointed downward to the below zero numbers. Always to the left, barring a few warm afternoons here at there. It's become a kind of joke in our house. of the "is it ever going to warm up?" variety. "Maybe it's stuck!" we say, rubbing our arms or pulling on a sweater. "Maybe it only reads cold temperatures!" "Maybe it will never get warm again!"

So I was surprised, this morning, to glance at it as I made coffee and find that it was, just barely but quite distinctly, to the right of 40. And when I looked at the forecast I found that even at night, this week our temperatures will be staying to the right. Spring, it seems, has finally arrived.

And suddenly, we are busy with springy kinds of things. Soccer practices and gardens to build. A chicken coop that is outside but still not quite done. A beehive that needs to be in place in a few days for the arrival of it's residents. Porch windows need to be taken down, dead wood needs to be dragged off of paths, vegetables and grass and flowers need to be planted. The rainwater redirection project needs to be completed. The lake needs to be visited. We need to catch some peepers and look for tadpoles and get ready for spring concerts and cut the dogs hair because she's starting to get hot and grumpy with her winter coat. So much. So many projects. I feel a little like we've been hibernating, and now we are awake and starving after a long winter. Time to go and do and plant. It's hard, sometimes, to remember to slow down and enjoy the spring, to not be overwhelmed by the projects that are piling up all around us, because it's spring. But it is spring. Glorious, warm(ish) sunny spring. And it needs to be enjoyed.

well hello old friend

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 13:46:00 +0000

We have only been down to the resting log once since the snow started falling in earnest. The path down is a little steep and precarious at the best of times, and covered with ice and snow was downright dangerous. But the last of the snow has officially gone, even from the little shady spots where it seemed like it would last forever. So down to the creek we went.

The water is still icy cold. Too cold to stand in while you dig new channels or search for that perfect rock. But there is plenty of bank to play on, and flat stones to try to skip across the water. And the resting log is still there, waiting for us to stop and sit and stay awhile. Maybe not as long as we will this summer. The wind whips along the little ravine and we end up chilly after a short stop, ready to head home for hot chocolate. But it's nice to see our old friend the resting log again.

sunlight

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:52:00 +0000

I had forgotten, though the long winter months of watery sunshine, how intense the sun can be here. I'm not sure if it's the altitude or the latitude or the lack of pollution, or perhaps a combination of the three, but the sun, even on a day with still chilly temperatures, can seem scalding. It's deceptive because the temperature gauge on the wall might still be hovering in the forties but sweaters and hats are quickly shed and put back again as we move from sunshine to shade. Friday it was warm enough even for flip flops and sundresses. Bare skin that hadn't seen the sunshine for months was bared, shoulders got a little tan, shorts came out of the bottoms of drawers.

We spent most of yesterday outside digging the beginnings of a bioswale to help (we hope) make next mud season a little less....muddy...in front of our house. This is what comes of being married to an urban designer with sustainable leanings. Weekends spent on storm water management projects. We dug and shifted and played in the woods and felt almost hot. Glorious.

As long as it doesn't get too hot. That's why we live in Vermont after all.

walking through spring

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 12:23:00 +0000

Today it will be 72 degrees. I'm going to ignore the fact that we are still in for some below freezing evenings in the upcoming days and just focus on that gloriously warm number on the forecast for today. The kids went off to school is shorts and skirts and NO TIGHTS and sandals and I realized that I have needed to wear all three of these pairs of shoes this week. Snow, rain and sun. All together in a span of a few days. I suppose that's spring, though. Changeable. But still, I put the snowboots in the basement and I hope they stay there till next fall. I'll be ready to put them on again by then but for now....I'm ready for the sun.
Have a lovely, WARM weekend!

better late than never

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 13:34:00 +0000

This sweater is from two winters ago, knit up here and there after bedtime in order to surprise her when it was done by Christmas. The previous sweater I'd planned for her hadn't gotten finished in time so I was determined to finish this one. And I did. And she didn't like it.

It was far too big. The pattern had been translated from french and I think the sizing was wrong. The sweater I knit was meant to be a 4 T but even now, at six, it's still a little big. But what she didn't like, I later realized, was that it didn't close. I had thought she'd like a sweater that had one quick button at the top and could hang loose when she played. When I made her sweater this winter I made sure to let her pick out the pattern and she was very clear that she didn't want one that was "open".

This weekend I fished the sweater out of one of my yarn baskets and realized that it was at last (close) to the right size. But it was still open. Still not right.

I have a dread of zippers. I hate putting them into sewing and I've only done one other sweater - Will's - that had one, and that was only marginally successful. But it seemed worth a try. So off to the fabric store we went, in search of a separating zipper that was the right color and length (not that easy, the one we found was really too small, but the next up was too long, ah well) and in it went.

And wouldn't you know it, she loves it now. Only a year and a half late, but still. It's not perfect, but for a sweater that wasn't meant to have a zipper I think it turned out alright. And perfectly pink, just right for my pink and flower and layered skirt loving girl.

sun on wood

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 16:55:00 +0000

Have I mentioned how wonderful it is to have floors? Well if I haven't, it is. Wonderful. And much softer on the feet. Everyone seems to agree. It's all done now other than a teeny little troublesome narrow piece at the back of Will's closet which will get done, well, maybe never, but you can't really see it anyway. Ahhhh.

And now... I think it's time to paint the stairs.

maple syrup one, two, three

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 16:41:00 +0000

I can't get over the difference in color. A little lurking on a sugaring discussion board (oh yes, there is one, more than one actually!) shows that the very dark syrup is common this year, that a lot of people with a lot more experience and a whole lot more trees than our little project are getting dark dark syrup as well. Will thinks the last, which is the darkest, is the best. I can't decide, I think they are all equally good, but all slightly different tasting. The darkest is definitely the sweetest. I think we may get one more boil out of our trees. We thought it was going to get too warm but since it is currently below freezing and sleeting to boot today, well, I think another round might be possible. I hope so. Because even though it takes ages and is kind of a pain, it's so fun to see those jars full of our own syrup on the shelf. And it's going fast. In fact, I think we'll have pancakes for dinner tonight!

the kitchen now

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 14:52:00 +0000

The kitchen is...not done. But it's made some serious progress since we moved in almost 9 months ago, when it looked like this.

There are still so many things to do. New counter top on one side, new drawer and cabinet fronts (or painting the existing ones), a new sink and appliances (oh please, please manky refrigerator, last until we can replace you!) But of course, it can't come all at once. Set aside the cost issues and the fact that we have a long list of other, more pressing projects to do around the house and we still have the little thing of needing to cook two or three meals a day for two hungry kids to work around. But slowly and surly, a little bit by a little bit, it's getting there. This weekend it was new lights, last week we started replacing the handles and pulls, a few weeks ago it was tile (still to be completed once we find the perfect pencil tile trim for the corners). It's coming. And it's so much nicer, half finished though it is. The walls are brighter. The lights are brighter! The open shelves are easier to use than the shallower cupboard. The pantry is full of mouse proof jars. It's spiffed up and a little more modern without being hard and cold, at least it seems that way to us. But mostly it just feels better. Feels more us.

spring dash

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 13:31:00 +0000

We are a little bit overrun with sap at the moment. I collected it throughout the week last week for a weekend boil which got pushed to Monday. And by that time the buckets were overflowing again on the trees. The sap that I had from earlier in the week came out of the trees dark and boiled down to an almost molasses brown maple syrup. Today I'm boiling again, this time the sap is clear again so I'll be curious to see what we end up with. Delicious whatever the color though. I love the smell of the house when the syrup is finishing off, intensely mapley and sweet.

It is officially spring here. The beech trees are starting to bud out and the days are alternatly sunny and drizzly. April showers, which I hope will bring May flowers. Although we don't really ahve many flowers planted here yet. The snow receeds more and more each day, which is good for the garden but unfortunate if you are ten and like to spend yoru afternoon hours pretending that your backyard is the Hoth Rebel base. He's going to have to switch from TonTons to Ewoks (we are heavily into Star Wars at the moment).

Although it seems like it's been forever in coming, it also seems to have turned to spring overnight. The woodstove hasn't been lit in days, the kids try to sneak out the door in shorts and short sleeves. When the sun is out it's a bright yellow, not the white light of winter and the sky is blue blue. I remember being kind of fascinated by the blue of the spring sky when we came to visit before moving here. So blue. So clear.

sun to snow to sun again

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 14:06:00 +0000

We've had a little bit of everything, weather-wise this week. It snowed, it hailed, it rained, but then again it was sunny and warm too. I spent most of yesterday trying to sleep off a sore throat and pounding sinus headache and watching documentaries on how they found Richard the Third in a car park in England (very interesting), bundled under blankets with cups of tea. When I pried myself off the couch to go pick up the kids, low and behold the sun was shining. And it was, almost, warm out. Warm enough, at least, to sit outside the general store in the village, eating an after-school pretzel and working on homework next to the brook that was, for the first time in what seems like ages, actually running. There were two older ladies sitting on the next bench eating ice cream sandwiches. We drove with the windows down on the car and I think the fresh air cleared my sinuses more than any sleeping or decongestants did. Ah sun. It's still muddy and grey out, but when the sun is shining, I care less about that. When the sun is shining, spring seems almost within reach.

barren

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 14:43:00 +0000

I think this is the first week since we moved to Vermont where I've looked out and not admired the landscape around me. This week, unlike the nearly year of weeks before, it is not particularly beautiful. We started with a thaw and mud and perpetually having streaks of dirt on the back of our pant where our legs hit the edge of the (very dirty) car while climbing in and out and now are in the midst of another cold snap. The sap is frozen in the buckets. The mud has turned to icy ruts. The kids are back in snowsuits. The wind whips the trees around and stings out cheeks when we go outside for another armload of logs from the dwindling pile.

I was listening to a local poet on the radio yesterday talking about April being a month of hope. But not hope in the "spring is here" kind of way. More of a hope that spring will eventually be here. Of patience that if we wait a little while longer, there will be flowers and buds on the trees and warm days. I know it will come. We were here for it last year. Gloriously balmy days, hydrangias blooming all over town, kids leaping wildly off the big rock and plunging into the river. It will come. I keep telling myself it will come.

And then I put another log on the fire. Because it's not here yet. Burrrr....

floors (at last!)

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 15:41:00 +0000

After seven months (seven months!) of plywood floors (and one with nasty smelly carpet) covering most of the house, we are finally finally finally walking on lovely smooth new floors. At least upstairs. In the den. Because the bedrooms aren't done yet.

But still!

Floors!

Downstairs we're still rocking the painted and sanded plywood. Which is fine. We've got all sorts of decisions to make (new woodstove or old, new wall heater or radiant flooring, what kind of hearth, what size of hearth....my head spins just thinking about it) before we can pick out and install flooring downstairs. Plus the sanding and painting of the downstairs plywood made it relatively smooth and presentable. But the upstairs plywood, blarg.

Halfway through installing it we looked around and realized that it's so shiny and smooth and new that it almost looks...fake. Or maybe it's just that in all the places and houses and lived in we've never had new flooring. Ever. Ever, ever. We've refinished old floors and lived with truly decrepit ones and even had nicely kept up old floors, but never had new ones. And it's really, really nice.

We've still got two more rooms to do and then the stairs before we're finished but I keep finding myself wanting to hangout up there in the den so I can just smile at them. Ahhh. One project (almost) down. Only...um... right, too many to count really, to go. Small victories though. Yes?

and now eleanor

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 16:55:00 +0000

She's really the reason I started this project, this little knitting pattern design business. Of course I love to come up with knitting patterns in general. I'm a maky-maky kind of girl after all. I like to make things, because it makes me happy. So I'm loving thing project (how could I not love to sit around thinking up and knitting things from my head?). But it all started with the doll.

When the original Eliza doll was published, I was thrilled. It was exciting having something I made appear in a magazine. Even thought I've done quite a bit of freelance work for all sorts of publications, both in print and online, I still get a little thrill when I see my name at the top of some article I've written or photograph I've published. And Eliza was a double-whammy, both an article that I wrote and a pattern I created, all in one.

But I've been frustrated, almost from the start, at how hard it was for knitters to get access to Eliza. After all, I made her up so that people could knit her. Which brings us to Eleanor.

Eleanor looks very similar to Eliza, they wear the same size clothes, the same kind of hair and felted body, but the pattern is different. Better, I think. She's knit in the round the way you would knit a raglan bottom up sweater (something I didn't know about when I knit Eliza). She's also stuffed densely with wool batting instead of the more complicated way I did it the first time around. And she has feet (yay for short rows!). But at heart she's still what Eliza was. Something for my girl to cuddle and love that I could make for her. And, as I said, making things makes me happy.

She's up on Ravelry and can also be found at my new, very beautiful - thanks to my oh so talented husband - website, Birch Hollow Cottage. We've got a blog over there and a facebook page and a pinterest account and it's all feeling pretty exciting and new around here. Please hop over and check us out, troll around, and let me know what you think. There are even a few little secret links on there too, if you can find them :)

here comes the sap

noreply@blogger.com (Gillian) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 15:28:00 +0000

I was starting to panic, just a little, about the whole sap flow thing. The magic three or so week window where the trees will give up their sap before healing up has pretty much passed but other than one warm week before our first boil, it's been too cold for the sap to rise. Not that we can't live without more of our own syrup, but...yeah. (I want syrup!)

So yesterday, when the temps were warm enough to drive with the windows down I hoped, hoped that there would be just a leeetle sap in my buckets. But low and behold, in one day we collected 3 gallons of sap. Holy cow. And yay! And HOLY COW! (Because my big bucket only holds 7 gallons. I need another!)

I need a bigger pot.