~Scrappy Jess~

Christmas Teacher Gift

2011-11-27T22:27:00.001-06:00

Thanks to a wonderful long weekend I have finished my DD's class treats and teachers' gifts! I picked up this fun bucket in the dollar section at Target. I ADORE this line of papers by Echo Park, I think the colors and prints are so cute! I also tried out Ranger Liquid Pearls for the first time. I'm sure there is an application trick for making a perfectly round pearl, but I love them anyway! Check back tomorrow, I have some cool Christmas cards using the same line :)

Thanks,

Lollipop holders

2011-11-25T23:05:00.000-06:00

Hi my crafty friends! I am getting a jump start on my Christmas classroom treats :)

I created a file in Cricut Craftroom that will cut 4 of the Cristmas tree holders at one time so I can just cycle my mats through. (I need to cut 90!) You can download the file HERE. Just simply score in the middle, add your layer, and decorate to your hearts content :)

I added holes to the butterfly file so you can add ribbon and tie it closed. You can get the file HERE.

Both files use the FREE Cricut Craftroom Basics cartridge so EVERYONE will be able to cut it :D

Please enjoy these FREE files to your hearts content, but DON"T share them! Let your friends come here to download their own copies. Thank you :)

Cherry pie with cherries on top! :)

2011-11-25T20:08:00.001-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope everyone enjoyed their Holiday. I am blessed to have a four day weekend! I have avoided the black friday crowds and hunkered down in my studio to tackle some Christmas projects. I will have some fun stuff to show you soon :)

But first...

I wanted to share my fun cherry pie from Thanksgiving! I used the Hello Kitty cartridge to cut these cherries at 2.5 inches. Pie crust is super simple to run through your cricut cake. Simply roll it out thin on your mat, freeze for 5-10 min, cut and decorate! I hope this will inspire you to dress up your next pie!

Thanks for visiting!

Page Pals

2011-11-12T18:43:00.001-06:00

Emma at My Creative Time has challenged everyone to make a child theme project for her Throwback Thursday contest. Inspired by the new Cricut Craftroom exclusives, we decided that "Page Pals" would be a fun treat. I decided to fiddle around with the idea and here is what I came up with...

To create your own Page Pals you will need:

Cricut Craftroom file

Fold the flaps in to form a square and secure with a strong adhesive like Terrifically Tacky Tape. Then ink your edges, apply your chosen embelishments, and enjoy!

MPS blog hop 11-11-11

2011-11-12T01:12:00.001-06:00

Hi my crafty friends! I'm so excited to share a layout with you! This is my Lexi the first time she played in the snow at 18mos! I'm so glad Robyn challenged us to get some scrapping done. I have about 500 pics printed off and ready to be scrapped. I will try to get some more done this weekend!

My layout is very simple- I used this pretty paper I picked up at my LSS last year, and some Hero Arts stamps to add to the theme.

I hope you will join in the hop. Start at mypinkstamper.com and link up your project :)

Harry Potter card

2011-10-07T19:26:00.001-05:00

Random project for today :) Hubs brought home a new Kodak printer because our old model is about dead, and it came with Harry Potter design gallery software. It took about 5 min of playing around to create this background paper and sentiment.

Thanks for stopping by!

Birthday invite using CCR

2011-10-06T22:49:00.000-05:00

Carts used:

Plantain Schoolbook

Damask Decor

Life is a Beach

Serenade

Cricut Sampler

Cricut Craftroom is a new online design tool offered by Provocraft. The software is still in Beta testing, and there are still several quirks to be worked out.

I finally got my invite to Craftroom about two weeks ago. I have had a hard time using the print/cut feature with my Imagine, but the print only, and cut only features are working really well! I used CCR to design this birthday invite, and then I used the print-only feature to print it in one layer. I then used my paper trimmer to cut it down to size. I'm very happy with how it turned out and I can't wait to see what features will be available soon!

Cricut Cake

2011-10-01T21:00:00.001-05:00

I am the happy new owner of a bright red, sleek, Cricut Cake machine! :) I am really excited to run her through her paces and report back. So far I am doing some trial and error. As you all know I live in the middle of nowhere, and have one LSS and a walmart to my name, so getting the proper materials has been a chore. I will pick up the makings for gumpaste this weekend when I hit Michaels. So far I am working with homemade fondant and cookie dough.

Pros:
I am really looking forward to making professional looking cakes for birthday parties and holidays. I'm already dreaming up different treats to send to school :)

It is very easy to get started! I made a batch of marshmallow fondant to get the kinks worked out and after about an hour I have some usable cuts.

Cons:

There is a learning curve. I won't become a professional cake decorator any time soon lol!

It is more time consuming than papercrafting. I plan to buy 2-3 packs of mats next weekend so I can keep fondant and cookie dough rolled out on them. I am an "on the fly" baker and don't have a ton of patience.

So far I'm really happy with my new machine. I got it for a steal on ebay, so as long as I use it for 2 birthday cakes it will be worth it. I plan to use it a lot more than that! If you are thinking about a Cake, or have one you don't use much, check out the tips Jinger gives in the beginner Cake class. I learned a lot about the different mediums, and how to get the 3-d effect I wanted from the video.

Have a great weekend!

Silly Spooky :)

2011-09-18T22:04:00.001-05:00

My card stash is getting seriously low so I hope you don't mind a ton of card posts this week. Today I wanted to share my little Halloween card I made using Mini Monsters Cricut cartridge.

Recipe:

PTI Kraft cardstock

American Crafts cardstock

Cricut: Mini Monsters

Studio G stamps

Thanks for stopping by!

Cricut vinyl home decor

2011-09-18T00:11:00.001-05:00

Hello my crafty friends! I know it has been F>O>R>E>V>E>R since I last posted! I'm sorry. I spent some time focusing on family, and realized that I really missed posting my creations for you to see. So here is my lastest project...

Lexi and I spent some good quality mom/ daughter time creating some decor for her new room. We used the new cricut craftroom software to lay out our images to save on vinyl, then we simply painted the canvas, let it dry, and applied the artwork!

We used a ton of cricut carts, most of the images are from Tinkerbell, Hannah Montana, and Quarter Note. If anyone wants the file shoot me an email and I will get back to you. I have a fun Halloween card all ready for tomorrow so check back then :)

Winner! :)

2011-06-13T19:42:00.002-05:00

Lisa R. said...

Fabulous LO! I have to make one for my girls for their softball pics! TFS

Lisa- email me your address at jessrlee@hotmail.com Congrats! :)

School's out for summer blog hop!

2011-06-10T07:47:00.002-05:00

Good morning my crafty friends! I'm so excited that you are following our hop! If you just left Byrnn you are on the right track! Your next stop is going to be Linn. If you get lost, or want to start from the beginning our hostess is Jessica.

Blog Candy!

Leave a comment under this post with your email address, AND your favorite thing about summer and you will be entered to win "You're my best Buddy" stamps from My Creative Time!

The things I think about when I'm daydreaming about summer are... lemonade and hotdogs at baseball games! We don't have any ball players in the house right now so it has been a while! I miss sitting on the bleachers, working in concessions, and the joy of the kids after every game.

For my project today I used Snapshot: Everyday, for the really cool background paper, Everyday Paper Dolls for my little ball player, and Opposites Attract for the title. The Imagine has come in really handy for patterned paper, custom RGB colors, and of course the cute images on the carts!

Thanks for joining me! Don't forget to leave a comment to win! Feel free to follow me if you would like! :)

Jessica- http://thecreativestamperspot.blogspot.com/
Nancy-http://blog.fancywithnancy.com/
Wendy- http://wleitel.blogspot.com/
Anita-http://www.anitaandbugs.blogspot.com/
...Nadia http://www.nadiasbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/
Jenny http://www.papercutcreations.blogspot.com/
Sarah http://www.simplyshaddock.blogspot.com/
DoBea http://www.dobeaalberts.blogspot.com/
Kristin http://scrappingmamahen.blogspot.com/
Jen R http://www.memorieswithjen.blogspot.com/
Julie Ranae http://juliesopenwindow.blogspot.com/
Brynn- http://www.flairandfrillscreativity.blogspot.com/
Jess- http://scrappyjess.blogspot.com/ You are here :)
Linn - http://linnsscrapshack.blogspot.com/

Food for thought

2011-06-07T18:52:00.000-05:00

Hello my scrappy friends! I hope things are going well for you! The end of school has come, and along with it I have full enrollment in the daycare, my kids are home and need to be entertained, AND all of the daily tasks still need to be done. I have fallen behind on my crafting, but I wanted to share this story with you. I read it HERE a few weeks ago, and it really struck a chord in my heart. How often do we work and work to not get much done because our spirits aren't in our tasks? I am often guilty of this! I hope you enjoy the story, I will see you soon!

"When Queens Ride By"
~Agnes Sligh Turnbull~

Jennie Musgrave woke at the shrill rasp of the alarm clock as she always woke—with the shuddering start and a heavy realization that the brief respite of the night’s oblivion was over. She had only time to glance through the dull light at the cluttered, dusty room before John’s voice was saying sleepily as he said every morning, “All right, let’s go. It doesn’t seem as if we’d been in bed at all!”

Jennie dressed quickly in the clothes–none too clean–that, exhausted, she had flung from her the night before. She hurried down the back stairs, her coarse shoes clattering thickly upon the bare boards. She kindled the fire in the range and then made a hasty pretense at washing in the basin in the sink.

John strode through the kitchen and on out to the barn. There were six cows to be milked and the great cans of milk to be taken to the station for the morning train.

Jennie put coffee and bacon on the stove, and then, catching up a pail from the porch, went after John. A golden red disk broke the misty blue of the morning above the cow pasture. A sweet, fragrant breath blew from the orchard, but Jennie neither saw nor felt the beauty about her.

She glanced at the sun and thought, “It’s going to be a hot day.” She glanced at the orchard, and her brows knit. There it hung. All that fruit. Bushels of it going to waste. Maybe she could get time that day to make some more apple butter. But the tomatoes wouldn’t wait. She must pick them and get them to town today, or that would be a dead loss. After all her work, well, it would only be in a piece with everything else if it did happen so. She and John had bad luck, and they might as well make up their minds to it.

She finished her part of the milking and hurried back again to the overcooked bacon and strong coffee. The children were down, clamorous, dirty, always underfoot. Jim, the eldest, was in his first term of school. She glanced at his spotted vest. He should have a clean one. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t get the washing done last week, and when she was to get a day for it this week she didn’t know, with all the picking and the trips to town to make!

Breakfast was hurried and unpalatable, a sort of grudging concession to the demands of the body. Then John left in the milk wagon for the station, and Jennie packed little Jim’s lunch basket with bread and apple butter and pie, left the two little children to their own devices in the backyard, and started toward the barn.

There was no time to do anything in the house. The chickens and turkeys had to be attended to, and then she must get to the tomato patch before the sun got too hot. Behind her was the orchard with its rows and rows of laden apple trees. Maybe this afternoon—maybe tomorrow morning. There were the potatoes, too, to be lifted. Too hard work for a woman. But what was she going to do? Starve? John worked till dark in the fields.

Jennie pushed her hair back with a quick, boyish sweep of her arm and went on scattering the grain to the fowls. She remembered their eager plans when they were married, when they took over the old farm—laden with its heavy mortgage—that had been John’s father’s. John had been so straight of back then and so jolly. Only seven years, yet now he was stooped a little, and his brows were always drawn, as though to hide a look of ashamed failure. They had planned to have a model farm someday: blooded stock, a tractor, a new barn. And then such a home they were to make of the old stone house! Jennie’s hopes had flared higher even than John’s. A rug for the parlor, an overstuffed set like the one in the mail-order catalog, linoleum for the kitchen, electric lights!

They were young and, oh, so strong! There was nothing they could not do if they only worked hard enough.

But that great faith had dwindled as the first year passed. John worked later and later in the evenings. Jennie took more and more of the heavy tasks upon her own shoulders. She often thought with some pride that no woman in the countryside ever helped her husband as she did. Even with the haying and riding the reaper. Hard, coarsening work, but she was glad to do it for John’s sake.

The sad riddle of it all was that at the end of each year, they were no further on. The only difference from the year before was another window shutter hanging from one hinge and another crippled wagon in the barnyard, which John never had time to mend. They puzzled over it in a vague distress. And meanwhile, life degenerated into a straining, hopeless struggle. Sometimes lately John had seemed a little listless, as though nothing mattered. A little bitter when he spoke of Henry Davis.

Henry held the mortgage and had expected a payment on the principle this year. He had come once and looked about with something very like a sneer on his face. If he should decide someday to foreclose, that would be the final blow. They never would get up after that. If John couldn’t hold the old farm, he could never try to buy a new one. It would mean being renters all their lives and poor renters at that!

She went to the tomato field. It had been her own idea to do some tracking along with the regular farm crops, but like everything else, it had failed of her expectations. As she put the scarlet tomatoes, just a little overripe, into the basket, she glanced with a hard tightening of her lips toward a break in the trees a half mile away where a dark, listening bit of road caught the sun. Across its polished surface twinkled an endless procession of shining, swift—moving objects. The State Highway.

Jennie hated it. In the first place, it was so tauntingly near and yet so hopelessly far from them. If it only ran by their door, as it did past Henry Davis’s for instance, it would solve the whole problem of marketing the fruits and vegetables. Then they could set the baskets on the lawn, and people could stop for them. But as it was, nobody all summer long had paid the least attention to the sign John had put up at the end of the lane. And no wonder. Why should travelers drive their cars over the stony country byway, when a little farther along they would find the same fruit spread temptingly for them at the very roadside?

But there was another reason she hated that bit of sleek road showing between the trees. She hated it because it hurt her with its suggestions of all that passed her by in that endless procession twinkling in the sunshine. There they kept going, day after day, those happy, carefree women, riding in handsome limousines or in gay little roadsters. Some in plainer cars, too, but even those were, like the others, women who could have rest, pleasure, comfort for the asking. They were whirled along hour by hour to new pleasures, while she was weighted to the drudgery of the farm like one of the great rocks in the pasture field.

And—most bitter thought of all—they had pretty homes to go back to when the happy journey was over. That seemed to be the strange and cruel law about homes. The finer they were, the easier it was to leave them. Now with her—if she had the rug for the parlor and the stuffed furniture and linoleum for the kitchen, she shouldn’t mind anything so much then; she had nothing, nothing but hard slaving and bad luck. And the highway taunted her with it. Flung its impossible pleasures mockingly in her face as she bent over the vines or dragged the heavy baskets along the rows.

The sun grew hotter. Jennie put more strength into her task. She knew, at last, by the scorching heat overhead that is was nearing noon. She must have a bit of lunch ready for John when he came in. There wasn’t time to prepare much. Just reheat the coffee and set down some bread and pie.

She started towards the house, giving a long yodeling call for the children as she went. They appeared from the orchard, tumbled and torn from experiments with the wire fence. Her heart smothered her at the sight of them. Among the other dreams that the years had crushed out were those of little rosy boys and girls in clean suits and fresh ruffled dresses. As it was, the children had just grown like farm weeds.

This was the part of all the drudgery that hurt most. That she had not time to care for her children, sew for them, teach them things that other children knew. Sometimes it seemed as if she had no real love for them at all. She was too terribly tired as a rule to have any feeling. The only times she used energy to talk to them was when she had to reprove them for some dangerous misdeed. That was all wrong. It seemed wicked, but how could she help it? With the work draining the very life out of her, strong as she was.

John came in heavily, and they ate in silence except for the children’s chatter. John hardly looked up form his plate. He gulped down great drafts of the warmed-over coffee and then pushed his chair back hurriedly.

“I’m goin’ to try to finish the harrowin’ in the south field,” he said.
“I’m at the tomatoes,” Jennie answered. “I’ve got them ‘most all picked and ready for takin’.”
That was all. Work was again upon them.

It was two o’clock by the sun, and Jennie had loaded the last heavy basket of tomatoes on the milk wagon in which she must drive to town, when she heard shrill voices sounding along the path. The children were flying in excitement toward her.

“Mum! Mum! Mum!” they called as they came panting up to her with big, surprised eyes.

“Mum, there’s a lady up there. At the kitchen door. All dressed up. A pretty lady. She wants to see you.”

Jennie gazed down at them disbelievingly. A lady, a pretty lady at her kitchen door? All dressed up! What that could mean? Was it possible someone had at last braved the stony lane to buy fruit? Maybe bushels of it!

“Did she come in a car?” Jennie asked quickly.

“No, she just walked in. She’s awful pretty. She smiled at us.”

Jennie’s hopes dropped. Of course. She might have known. Some agent likely, selling books. She followed the children wearily back along the path and in at the rear door of the kitchen. Across from it another door opened into the side yard. Here stood the stranger.

The two women looked at each other across the kitchen, across the table with the remains of two meals upon it, the strewn chairs, the littered stove—across the whole scene of unlovely disorder. They looked at each other in startled surprise, as inhabitants of Earth and Mars might look if they were suddenly brought face-to-face.

Jennie saw a woman in a burgundy tweed coat that seemed to be part of her straight, slim body. A small pink hat with a rose quill was drawn low over the brownish hair. Her blue eyes were clear and smiling. She was beautiful! And yet she was not young. She was in her forties, surely. But an aura of eager youth clung to her, a clean and exquisite freshness.

The stranger in her turn looked across at a young woman, haggard and weary. Her yellowish hair hung in straggling wisps. Her eyes looked hard and hunted. Her cheeks were thin and sallow. Her calico dress was shapeless and begrimed from her work.

So they looked at each other for one long, appraising second. Then the woman in burgundy smiled.

“How do you do?” she began. “We ran our car into the shade of your lane to have our lunch and rest for a while. And I walked on up to buy a few apples if you have them.”

She stood staring at the stranger. There was an unconscious hostility in Jennie’s eyes. This was one of the women from the highway. One of those envied ones who passed twinkling through the summer sunshine from pleasure to pleasure while Jennie slaved on.

But the pretty lady’s smile was disarming. Jennie started toward a chair and pulled off the old coat and apron that lay on it.

“Won’t you sit down?” she said politely. “I’ll go and get the apples. I’ll have to pick them off the tree. Would you prefer Rambos?”

“I don’t know what they are, but they sound delicious. You must choose them for me. But mayn’t I come with you? I should love to help pick them.”

Jennie considered. She felt baffled by the friendliness of the other woman’s face and utterly unable to meet it. But she did not know how to refuse.

“Why, I s’pose so. If you can get through the dirt.”

She led the way over the back porch with its crowded baskets and pails and coal buckets, along the unkept path toward the orchard. She had never been so acutely conscious of the disorder about her. Now a hot shame brought a lump to her throat. In her preoccupied haste before, she had actually not noticed that tub of overturned milk cans and rubbish heap! She saw it all now swiftly through the other woman’s eyes. And then that new perspective was checked by a bitter defiance. Why should she care how things looked to this woman? She would be gone, speeding down the highway in a few minutes as though she had never been there.

She reached the orchard and began to drag a long ladder from the fence to the Rambo tree.

The other woman cried out in distress. “Oh, but you can’t do that! You mustn’t. It’s too heavy for you, or even for both of us. Please just let me pick a few from the ground.”

Jennie looked in amazement at the stranger’s concern. It was so long since she had seen anything like it.

“Heavy?” she repeated. “This ladder? I wish I didn’t ever lift anything heavier than this. After hoistin’ bushel baskets of tomatoes onto a wagon, this feels light to me.”

The stranger caught her arm. “But—but do you think it’s right? Why, that’s a man’s work.”

Jennie’s eyes blazed. Something furious and long-pent broke out from within her. “Right! Who are you to be askin’ me whether I’m right or not? What would have become of us if I didn’t do a man’s work? It takes us both, slaving away, an’ then we get nowhere. A person like you don’t know what work is! You don’t know!”

Jennie’s voice was the high shrill of hysteria, but the stranger’s low tones somehow broke through. “Listen,” she said soothingly. “Please listen to me. I’m sorry I annoyed you by saying that, but now, since we are talking, why can’t we sit down here and rest a minute? It’s so cool and lovely here under the trees, and if you were to tell me all about it—because I’m only a stranger—perhaps it would help. It does sometimes, you know. A little rest would...”

“Rest! Me sit down to rest, an’ the wagon loaded to go to town? It’ll hurry me now to get back before dark.”

And then something strange happened. The other women put her cool, soft hand on Jennie’s grimy arm. There was a compelling tenderness in her eyes. “Just take the time you would have spent picking apples. I would so much rather. And perhaps somehow I could help you. I wish I could. Won’t you tell me why you have to work so hard?”

Jennie sank down on the smooth green grass. Her hunted, unwilling eyes had yielded to some power in the clear, serene eyes of the stranger. A sort of exhaustion came over her. A trembling reaction from the straining effort of weeks.

“There ain’t much to tell,” she said half sullenly, “only that we ain’t gettin’ ahead. We’re clean discouraged, both of us. Henry Davis is talking about foreclosin’ on us if we don’t pay some principle. The time of the mortgage is out this year, an’ mebbe he won’t renew it. He’s got plenty himself, but them’s the hardest kind.” She paused; then her eyes flared. “An’ it ain’t that I haven’t done my part. Look at me. I’m barely thirty, an’ I might be fifty. I’m so weatherbeaten. That’s the way I’ve worked!”

“And you think that has helped your husband?”

“Helped him?” Jennie’s voice was sharp. “Why shouldn’t it help him?”

The stranger was looking away through the green stretches of orchard. She laced her slim hands together about her knees. She spoke slowly. “Men are such strange things, husbands especially. Sometimes we blunder when we are trying hardest to serve them. For instance, they want us to be economical, and yet they want us in pretty clothes. They need our work, and yet they want us to keep our youth and our beauty. And sometimes they don’t know themselves which they really want most. So we have to choose. That’s what makes it so hard.”

She paused. Jennie was watching her with dull curiosity as though she were speaking a foreign tongue. Then the stranger went on:

“I had to choose once, long ago; just after we were married, my husband decided to have his own business, so he started a very tiny one. He couldn’t afford a helper, and he wanted me to stay in the office while he did the outside selling. And I refused, even though it hurt him. Oh, it was hard! But I knew how it would be if I did as he wished. We would both have come back each night, tired out, to a dark, cheerless house and a picked-up dinner. And a year of that might have taken something away from us—something precious. I couldn’t risk it, so I refused and stuck to it.

“And then how I worked in my house—a flat it was then. I had so little outside of our wedding gifts; but at least I could make it a clean, shining, happy place. I tried to give our little dinners the grace of a feast. And as the months went on, I knew I had done right. My husband would come home dead-tired and discouraged, ready to give up the whole thing. But after he had eaten and sat down in our bright little living room, and I had read to him or told him all the funny things I could invent about my day, I could see him change. By bedtime he had his courage back, and by morning he was at last ready to go out and fight again. And at last he won, and he won his success alone, as a man loves to do.”

Still Jennie did not speak. She only regarded her guest with a half-resentful understanding. The woman in burgundy looked off again between the trees. Her voice was very sweet. A humorous little smile played about her lips.

“There was a queen once,” she went on, “who reigned in troubled days. And every time the country was on the brink of war and the people ready to fly into a panic, she would put on her showiest dress and take her court with her and go hunting. And when the people would see her riding by, apparently so gay and happy, they were sure all was well with the Government. So she tided over many a danger. And I’ve tried to be like her.

“Whenever a big crisis comes in my husband’s business—and we’ve had several—or when he’s discouraged, I put on my prettiest dress and get the best dinner I know how or give a party! And somehow it seems to work. That’s the woman’s part, you know. To play the queen...”

A faint ‘honk-honk’ came from the lane. The stranger started to her feet. “That’s my husband. I must go. Please don’t bother about the apples. I’ll just take these from under the tree. We only wanted two or three, really. And give these to the children.” She slipped two coins into Jennie’s hand.

Jennie had risen, too, and was trying from a confusion of startled thoughts to select one for speech. Instead, she only answered the other woman’s bright good-bye with a stammering repetition and a broken apology about the apples.

She watched the stranger’s erect, lithe figure hurrying away across the path that led directly to the lane. Then she turned her back to the house, wondering dazedly if she had only dreamed that the other woman had been there. But no, there were emotions rising hotly within her that were new. They had had no place an hour before. They had risen at the words of the stranger and at the sight of her smooth, soft hair, the fresh color in her cheeks, the happy shine of her eyes.

A great wave of longing swept over Jennie, a desire that was lost in choking despair. It was as thought she had heard a strain of music for which she had waited all her life and then felt it swept away into silence before she had grasped its beauty. For a few brief minutes she, Jennie Musgrave, had sat beside one of the women of the highway and caught a breath of her life—that life which forever twinkled in the past in bright procession, like the happenings of a fairy tale. Then she was gone, and Jennie was left as she had been, bound to the soil like one of the rocks of the field.

The bitterness that stormed her heart now was different from the old dull disheartenment, for it was coupled with new knowledge. The words of the stranger seemed more vivid to her than when she had sat listening in the orchard, but they came back to her with the pain of agony.

“All very well for her to talk so smooth to me about man’s work and woman’s work! An’ what she did for her husband’s big success. Easy enough for her to sit talking about queens! What would she do if she was here on this farm like me? What would a woman like her do?”

Jennie had reached the kitchen door and stood there looking at the hopeless melee about her. Her words sounded strange and hollow in the silence of the house. “Easy for her!” she burst out. She never had the work pilin’ up over her like I have. She never felt it at her throat like a wolf, the same as John an’ me does. Talk about choosin’! I haven’t got no choice. I just got to keep goin’—just keep goin’, like I always have!”
She stopped suddenly. There in the middle of the kitchen floor, where the other woman had passed over, lay a tiny square of white. Jennie crossed to it quickly and picked it up. A faint delicious fragrance like the dream of a flower came from it. Jennie inhaled it eagerly. It was not like any odor she had ever known. It made her think of sweet, strange things. Things she had never thought about before. Of gardens in the early summer dusk, of wide fair rooms with the moonlight shining in them. It made her somehow think with vague wistfulness of all that.
She looked carefully at the tiny square. The handkerchief was of fine, fairylike smoothness. In the corner a dainty blue butterfly spread his wings. Jennie drew in another long breath. The fragrance filled her senses again. Her first greedy draft had not exhausted it. It would stay for a while, at least.

She laid the bit of white down cautiously on the edge of the table and went to the sink, where she washed her hands carefully. The she returned and picked up the handkerchief again with something like reverence. She sat down, still holding it, staring at it. This bit of linen was to her an articulated voice. She understood its language. It spoke to her of white, freshly washed clothes blowing in the sunshine, of an iron moving smoothly, leisurely, to the accompaniment of a song over snowy folds; it spoke to her of quiet, orderly rooms and ticking clocks and a mending basket under the evening lamp; it spoke to her of all the peaceful routine of a well-managed household, the kind she had once dreamed of having.

But more than this, the exquisite daintiness of it, the sweet, alluring perfume spoke to her of something else which her heart understood, even though her speech could have found no words for it. She could feel gropingly the delicacy, the grace, the beauty that made up the other woman’s life in all its relations.

She, Jennie, had none of that. Everything about their lives, hers and John’s, was coarsened, soiled somehow by the dragging, endless labor or the days.

Jennie leaned forward, her arms stretched tautly before her upon her knees, her hands clasped tightly over the fragrant bit of white. Suppose she were to try doing as the stranger had said. Suppose that she spent her time on the house and let the outside work go. What then? What would John say? Would they be much farther behind than they were now? Could they be? And suppose, by some strange chance, the other woman had been right! That a man could be helped more by doing of these other things she had neglected?

She sat very still, distressed, uncertain. Out in the barnyard waited the wagon of tomatoes, overripe now for market. No, she could do nothing today, at least, but go on as usual. Then her hands opened a little; the perfume within them came up to her, bringing again that thrill of sweet, indescribable things.

She started up, half-terrified at her own resolve. “I’m goin’ to try it now. Mebbe I’m crazy, but I’m goin’ to do it anyhow!”

It was a long time since Jennie had performed such a meticulous toilet. It was years since she had brushed her hair. A hasty combing had been its best treatment. She put on her one clean dress, the dark voile reserved for trips to town. She even changed from her shapeless, heavy shoes to her best ones. Then, as she looked at herself in the dusty mirror, she saw that she was changed. Something, at least, of the hard haggardness was gone from her face, and her hair framed it with smooth softness. Tomorrow she would wash it. It used to be almost yellow.

She went to the kitchen. With something of the burning zeal of a fanatic, she attacked the confusion before her. By half past four the room was clean: the floor swept, the stove shining, dishes and pans washed and put in their places. From the tumbled depths of a drawer Jennie had extracted a white tablecloth that had been bought in the early days, for company only. With a spirit of daring recklessness she spread it on the table. She polished the chimney of the big oil lamp and then set the fixture, clean and shining, in the center of the white cloth.

Now the supper! And she must hurry. She planned to have it at six o’ clock and ring the big bell for John fifteen minutes before, as she used to just after they were married.

She decided upon fried ham and browned potatoes and applesauce with hot biscuits. She hadn’t made them for so long, but her fingers fell into their old deftness. Why, cooking was just play if you had time to do it right! Then she thought of the tomatoes and gave a little shudder. She thought of the long hours of backbreaking work she had put into them and called herself a little fool to have been swayed by the words of a stranger and the scent of a handkerchief, to neglect her rightful work and bring more loss upon John and herself. But she went on, making the biscuits, turning the ham, setting the table.

It was half past five; the first pan of flaky brown mounds had been withdrawn from the oven, the children’s faces and hands had been washed and their excited questions satisfied, when the sound of a car came from the bend. Jennie knew that car. It belonged to Henry Davis. He could be coming for only one thing.

The blow they had dreaded, fending off by blind disbelief in the ultimate disaster, was about to fall. Henry was coming to tell them he was going to foreclose. It would almost kill John. This was his father’s old farm. John had taken it over, mortgage and all, so hopefully, so sure he could succeed where his father had failed. If he had to leave now there would be a double disgrace to bear. And where could they go? Farms weren’t so plentiful.

Henry had driven up to the side gate. He fumbled with some papers in his inner pocket as he started up the walk. A wild terror filled Jennie’s heart. She wanted desperately to avoid meeting Henry Davis’s keen, hard face, to flee somewhere, anywhere before she heard the words hat doomed them.

Then as she stood shaken, wondering how she could live through what the next hours would bring, she saw in a flash the beautiful stranger as she had sat in the orchard, looking off between the trees and smiling to herself. “There was once a queen.”

Jennie heard the words again distinctly just as Henry Davis’s steps sounded sharply nearer on the walk outside. There was only a confused picture of a queen wearing the stranger’s lovely, highbrowed face, riding gaily to the hunt through forests and towns while her kingdom was tottering. Riding gallantly on, in spite of her fears.

Jennie’s heart was pounding and her hands were suddenly cold. But something unreal and yet irresistible was sweeping her with it. “There was once a queen.”

She opened the screen door before Henry Davis had time to knock. She extended her hand cordially. She was smiling. “Well, how d’ you do, Mr. Davis. Come right in. I’m real glad to see you. Been quite a while since you was over.”

Henry looked surprised and very much embarrassed. “Why, no, now, I won’t go in. I just stopped to see John on a little matter of business. I’ll just–”

“You’ll just come right in. John will be in from milkin’ in a few minutes an’ you can talk while you eat, both of you. I’ve supper just ready. Now step right in, Mr. Davis!”

As Jennie moved aside, a warm, fragrant breath of fried ham and biscuits seemed to waft itself to Henry Davis’s nostrils. There was a visible softening of his features. “Why, no, I didn’t reckon on anything like this. I ‘lowed I’d just speak to John and then be gettin’ on.”

“They’ll see you at home when you get there,” Jennie put in quickly. “You never tasted my hot biscuits with butter an’ quince honey, or you wouldn’t take so much coaxin’!”

Henry Davis came in and sat in the big, clean, warm kitchen. His eyes took in every detail of the orderly room: the clean cloth, the shining lamp, the neat sink, the glowing stove. Jennie saw him relax comfortably in his chair. Then above the aromas of the food about her, she detected the strange sweetness of the bit of white linen she had tucked away in the bosom of her dress. It rose to her as a haunting sense of her power as a woman.

She smiled at Henry Davis. Smiled as she would never have thought of doing a day ago. Then she would have spoken to him with a drawn face full of subservient fear. Now, though the fear clutched her heart, her lips smiled sweetly, moved by that unreality that seemed to possess her. “There was once a queen.”

“An’ how are things goin’ with you, Mr. Davis?” she asked with a blithe upward reflection.

Henry Davis was very human. He had never noticed before that Jennie’s hair was so thick and pretty and that she had such pleasant ways. Neither had he dreamed that she was such a good cook as the sight and smell of the supper things would indicate. He was very comfortable there in the big sweet-smelling kitchen.

He smiled back. It was an interesting experiment on Henry’s part, for his smiles were rare. “Oh, so-so. How are they with you?”

Jennie had been taught to speak the truth; but at this moment there dawned in her mind a vague understanding that the high loyalties of life are, after all, relative and not absolute. She smiled again as she skillfully flipped a great slice of golden brown ham over in the frying pan. “Why, just fine, Mr. Davis. We’re gettin’ on just fine, John an’ me. It’s been hard sleddin’ but I sort of think the worst is over. I think we’re goin’ to come out way ahead now. We’ll just be proud to pay off that mortgage so fast, come another year, that you’ll be surprised!”

It was said. Jennie marveled that the words had not choked her, had not somehow smitten her dead as she spoke them. But their effect on Henry Davis was amazingly good.

“That so?” he asked in surprise. “Well now, that’s fine. I always wanted to see John make a success of the old place, but somehow—well, you know it didn’t look as if—that is, there’s been some talk around that maybe John wasn’t just gettin’ along any too—you know. A man has to sort of watch his investments. Well, now, I’m glad things are pickin’ up a little.”

Jennie felt as though a tight hand at her throat had relaxed. She spoke brightly of the fall weather and the crops as she finished setting the dishes on the table and rang the big bell for John. There was delicate work yet to be done when he came in.

Little Jim had to be sent to hasten him before he finally appeared. He was a big man, John Musgrave, big and slow moving and serious. He had known nothing all his life but hard physical toil. Work had pitted his great body against all the adverse forces of nature. There was a time when he had felt that strength such as his was all any man needed to bring him fortune. Now he was not so sure. The brightness of that faith was dimmed by experience.

John came to the kitchen door with his eyebrows drawn. Little Jim had told him that Henry Davis was there. He came into the room as an accused man faces the jury of his peers, faces the men who, though the same flesh and blood as he, are yet somehow curiously in a position to save or to destroy him.

John came in, and then he stopped, staring blankly at the scene before him. At Jennie moving about the bright table, chatting happily with Henry Davis! At Henry himself, his sharp features softened by an air of great satisfaction. At the sixth plate on the white cloth. Henry staying for supper!

But the silent deeps of John’s nature served him well. He made no comment. Merely shook hands with Henry Davis and then washed his face at the sink.

Jennie arranged the savory dishes, and they sat down to supper. It was an entirely new experience to John to sit at the head of his own table and serve a generously heaped plate to Henry Davis. It sent through him a sharp thrill of sufficiency, of equality. He realized that before he had been cringing in his soul at the very sight of this man.

Henry consumed eight biscuits richly covered with quince honey, along with the heavier part of his dinner. Jennie counted them. She recalled hearing that the Davises did not set a very bountiful table; it was common talk that Mrs. Davis was even more “miserly” than her husband. But, however that was, Henry now seemed to grow more and more genial and expansive as he ate. So did John. By the time the pie was set before them, they were laughing over a joke Henry had heard at Grange meeting.

Jennie was bright, watchful, careful. If the talk lagged, she made a quick remark. She moved softly between table and stove, refilling the dishes. She saw to it that a hot biscuit was at Henry Davis’s elbow just when he was ready for it. All the while there was rising within her a strong zest for life that she would have deemed impossible only that morning. This meal, at least, was a perfect success, and achievements of any sort whatever had been few.

Henry Davis left soon after supper. He brought the conversation around awkwardly to his errand as they rose from the table. Jennie was ready.

“I told him, John, that the worst was over now, an’ we’re gettin’ on fine!” She laughed.” I told him we’d be swampin’ him pretty soon with our payments. Ain’t that right John?”

John’s mind was not analytical. At that moment, he was comfortable. He has been host at a delicious supper with his ancient adversary, whose sharp face marvelously softened. Jennie’s eyes were shining with a new and amazing confidence. It was a natural moment for unreasoning optimism.

“Why that’s right, Mr. Davis. I believe we can start clearin’ this off now pretty soon. If you could just see your way clear to renew the note mebbe...”

It was done. The papers were back in Davis’s pocket. They had bid him a cordial good-bye from the door.

“Next time you come, I will have biscuits for you, Mr. Davis.” Jennie had called daringly after him.

“Now you don’t forget that, Mrs. Musgrave! They certainly ain’t hard to eat.”

He was gone. Jennie cleared the table and set the shining lamp in the center of the oilcloth covering. She began to wash the dishes. John was fumbling through the papers on a hanging shelf. He finally sat down with and old tablet and pencil. He spoke meditatively. “I believe I’ll do a little figurin’ since I’ve got time tonight. It just struck me that mebbe if I used my head a little more I’d get on faster.”

“Well now, you might,” said Jennie. It would not be John’s way to comment just yet on their sudden deliverance. She polished two big Rambo apples and placed them on a saucer beside him.

He looked pleased. “Now that’s what I like.” He grinned. Then making a clumsy clutch at her arm, he added, “Say, you look sort of pretty tonight.”

Jennie made a brisk coquettish business of freeing herself. “Go along with you!” she returned, smiling and started in again upon the dishes. But a hot wave of color had swept up in her shallow cheeks.

John had looked more grateful over her setting those two apples beside him now, than he had the day last fall when she lifted all the potatoes herself! Men were strange, as the woman in burgundy had said. Maybe even John had been needing something else more than he needed the hard, backbreaking work she had been doing.

She tidied up the kitchen and put the children to bed. It seemed strange to be through now, ready to sit down. All summer they had worked outdoors till bedtime. Last night, she had been slaving over apple butter until she stopped, exhausted, and John had been working in the barn with the lantern. Tonight seemed so peaceful, so quiet. John still sat at the table, figuring while he munched his apples. His brows were not drawn now. There was a new, purposeful light upon his face.

Jennie walked to the doorway and stood looking off through the darkness and through the break in the trees at the end of the lane. Bright and golden lights kept glittering across it, breaking dimly through the woods, flashing out strongly for a moment, then disappearing behind the hill. Those were the lights of the happy cars that never stopped in their swift search for far and magic places. Those were the lights of the highway which she had hated. But she did not hate it now. For today it had come to her at last and left with her some of its mysterious pleasure.

Jennie wished, as she stood there, that she could somehow tell the beautiful stranger in the burgundy coat that her words had been true, that she, Jennie, insofar as she was able, was to be like her and fulfill her woman’s part.

For while she was not figuring as John was doing, yet her mind had been planning, sketching in details, strengthening itself against the chains of old habits, resolving on new ones; seeing with sudden clearness where they had been blundered, where they had made mistakes that farsighted, orderly management could have avoided. But how could John have sat down to figure in comfort before, in the kind of kitchen she had been keeping?

Jennie bit her lip. Even if some of the tomatoes spoiled, if all of them spoiled, there would be a snowy washing on her line tomorrow; there would be ironing the next day in her clean kitchen. She could sing as she worked. She used to when she was a girl. Even if the apples rotted on the trees, there were certain things she knew now that she must do, regardless of what John might say. It would pay better in the end, for she had read the real needs of his soul from his eyes that evening. Yes, wives had to choose for their husbands sometimes.

A thin haunting breath of sweetness rose from the bosom of her dress where the scrap of white linen lay. Jennie smiled into the dark. And tomorrow she would take time to wash her hair. It used to be yellow—and she wished she could see the stranger once more, just long enough to tell her she understood.

As matter of fact, at that very moment, many miles along the sleek highway, a woman in a burgundy coat, with a soft pink hat and a rose quill, leaned suddenly close to her husband as he shot the high-powered car through the night. Suddenly he glanced down at her and slackened the speed.

“Tired?” he asked. “You haven’t spoken for miles. Shall we stop at this next town?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m all right, and I love to drive at night. It’s only—you know—that poor woman at the farm. I can’t get over her wretched face and house and everything. It—it was hopeless!”

The man smiled down at her tenderly. “Well, I’m sorry, too, if it was all as bad as your description; but you mustn’t worry. Good gracious, darling, you’re not weeping over it, I hope!”

“No, truly, just a few little tears. I know it’s silly, but I did so want to help her, and I know now that what I said must have sounded perfectly insane. She wouldn’t know what I was talking about. She just looked up with that blank, tired face. And it all seemed so impossible. No, I’m not going to cry. Of course, I’m not, but lend me your handkerchief, will you dear? I’ve lost mine somehow!”

Update

2011-06-02T22:52:00.000-05:00

Hello my crafty friends! I'm sorry for going AWOL on you! It is the last week of school and life has gotten too busy for crafting (can you imagine?!) I will be back to normal posting on Monday!

Birthday card using Snapshot: Everyday

2011-05-24T06:39:00.001-05:00

I am having so much fun with the snapshot cartridge! The images print out so crisp and pretty! For this card I used the balloon background paper cut at 5", American Crafts cardstock cut at 5.25x10.5, and five banners cut at 1.2 from the Yummy cartridge. I attached the banner to a strip of rick rack, and used dimentionals to pop it up.

Thanks for joining me! If you would, please stop by and vote for me in the Craftyest Mom contest!

http://apps.facebook.com/contestshq/contests/114794/voteable_entries/21187506?ogn=facebook

Please be a pal!

2011-05-23T18:46:00.000-05:00

Cricut is hosting the "craftyest Mom" contest. I would be soooo very happy if you hop over to Facebook and give me your vote. The grand prize is a Cricut E2. Here is the link: http://apps.facebook.com/contestshq/contests/114794/voteable_entries/21187506?ogn=facebook

Thanks everyone for being such amazing bloggie friends! You make my days so much fun :)

Fun rocketship card!

2011-05-22T01:15:00.024-05:00

Isn't this little rocketship card so much fun! Perfect for someone with a sense of humor :) (The little guy peeking out of the window doesn't look like he is having fun lol!)

Recipe:

Imagine More Cards art cartridge

Best Friends art cartridge

PTI Kraft cardstock

Tim Holtz- Vintage Photo

Peachy Keen Stamps- Everyday Character Asst.

Action Wobbles

Graduation card featuring Audrey

2011-05-21T01:00:00.000-05:00

Is anyone else shocked at how quickly time seems to be flying by? I still haven't mailed all of my Christmas cards! Still... the darn kids keep growing up... and now... graduating! So I figure as long as they put all of that effort into it I should show up with a card ;)

Recipe:

Audrey pattern cartridge

A Child's Year

MPS Happiest Moments

I printed a full print on red American Crafts cardstock, and trimmed it down to 3.75x5. I then layered it with a 4x5.25 white mat and a 4.25x5.5 black base. The cap is printed at 3.5" and I used my cutterbee sissors to trim around it. A couple dimensionals and some black stitching finished everything off!

Thanks for joining me!

Baby card using Snapshot: Everyday

2011-05-20T01:00:00.001-05:00

When I saw the duckie pattern on this cartridge I knew I had to have it! I'm so glad because it gave the perfect pop to a simple baby card! I simply flood filled the duck shape in the stock images, and then cut another one mirrored out of the white cardstock, and fastened them with a brad. My Pink Stamper- Happiest Moments stamps finish it off perfectly!

Recipe:

Snapshot: Everyday pattern cartridge

Imagine stock images

MPS Happiest Moments

Mommy- daughter crafting

2011-05-19T08:52:00.000-05:00

This is what I love most about crafting! Making my kiddos super happy :)

Last night over dinner Lexi and I started talking over summer plans, and activity ideas. One of her concerns was losing contact with her group of friends. We tossed around some ideas, and decided that what she really needs is an address book (score one for teaching my child about paper phone books and address books lol!) So we took a quick trip to Target to see if we could find one that made us happy. Well the only address books we could find cost upwards of $15 and were fit for an executive, so we decided that a small notebook would work perfectly well, especially with the adorable pens we found in the clearance section. When Lexi saw the small memo pads three for a $1 we decided that maybe it would be fun to alter them and hand them out to the group. Thus the birth of 8 mini address books for the girls to keep in touch all summer :) We used the Rock Princess cart to put the girls' initals on the pads using the skull font, and the animal print paper is from the Paper Company.

Recipe:

mini notebook

3"x 4.75" paper scraps

Rock Princess Cricut Cartridge

bling and pop dots

Milk carton box using All Wrapped Up

2011-05-18T08:20:00.001-05:00

I know the big draw for the Imagine is your ability to print and cut your images all at once. But don't forget... when you find that beautiful paper in the store, just perfect for your latest project, the Imagine does offer a cut only option!

Recipe:

All Wrapped Up art cartridge

Echo Park- Sunny Days

Thanks for joining me!

Wobbly Birthday card

2011-05-16T22:21:00.000-05:00

Hello my crafty friends! I am sooo tired today! I had a long full weekend, and a super busy Monday to boot :) I made a fun video for you on how to use multiple cartridges on your Gypsy. I'm wayyyy too tired to take a picture of my card tonight, but you will see the final product in the video. Thanks for watching!

Congrats card using Doodletype

2011-05-14T00:01:00.000-05:00

This week for Throwback Thursday Emma challenged us to use Doodlecharms, and the color blue. I don't own Doodlecharms so I substituted Doodletype and Everyday Paper Dolls. I used my Gypsy to weld the frame from Doodletype, a blank square, the "congrats" word art, and my doll base. The card measures 5.5" square, the word art is 1", and the doll is 3". I then layered a 5" green square on the inside for stability (The word art cuts a little fine). I used the nurse outfit and accessories for my doll, and finished the card off with a scalloped border punch on one edge (mostly because my scoring went off and I had overhang lol!)

I have a daycare mom getting pinned this Saturday, she has worked so hard for it that I belive congrats are in order! Now her kiddos have something sweet to give Mommy after her big moment :)

Well thanks for checking out my project! Hop over to http://www.creativetimeforme.com/ to join in the challenge with the chance to win ALL FOUR of Emma's newest releases!

Fun birthday card using Rock Princess

2011-05-10T01:00:00.000-05:00

Here is a fun birthday card using the Rock Princess cartridge. We have 3 daughters in the "tween" age group that are simply "too cool" for princesses and flowers anymore. Well this year is huge for sleepover birthday parties in the group, so I am stockpiling "emergency" last minute cards lol! I changed the image up a bit, leaving off a layer of the banner and the word "Peace". I then used My Creative Time stamps to stamp "you rock!" on the banner.

Have a great day!

~Scrappy Jess~

Christmas Teacher Gift

Lollipop holders

Cherry pie with cherries on top! :)

Page Pals

MPS blog hop 11-11-11

Harry Potter card

Birthday invite using CCR

Cricut Cake

Silly Spooky :)

Cricut vinyl home decor

Winner! :)

School's out for summer blog hop!

Food for thought

Update

Birthday card using Snapshot: Everyday

Please be a pal!

Fun rocketship card!

Graduation card featuring Audrey

Baby card using Snapshot: Everyday

Mommy- daughter crafting

Milk carton box using All Wrapped Up

Wobbly Birthday card

Congrats card using Doodletype

Fun birthday card using Rock Princess

More in-depth video on the magnetic paper dolls...