Blueberry Bits

Out on

our hill,

blueberry

plants

stand


in the three-below-zero cold this wintry morning.

Their

deep

red

buds

lie

dormant


awaiting – next spring's warmth and...




for

their

chance

to

burst

forth –



showing their green, oblong leaves and tiny, bell-shaped blooms


that will

form

beads –

of green,

and

pink –

and which, when mature, will become flavorful berries...


that

we

will

hand-pick

sort,

clean

and...



make into summer breakfast delights. Ah... Blueberry Bits.

November Morning

Sunrise











Moon set














Day's start

It Was Time...

for

Tickles'

kitties...












to

move

on...











with

their

life...












in

a

new

family...










on

a

horse

ranch.





Dad, the big boys and Moose were off pheasant hunting – leaving Noah and me with no dog kennel for the transport.

We improvised – lying down blankets in the car's back end, putting up the shelf, and using a blanket to cover the gap between the seat and shelf – to discourage the nearly three-month-old rascals from roaming.


One by one Noah put them down the hatch.

"You'll have to be the kitty police,"
I said.


"Make sure they don't escape while we're driving."

Noah giggled, "What if one jumps out on my head?"

"It's your job – to make sure that doesn't happen!" I said.


I drove slowly along the gravel road with no trouble.

Out on the highway, I picked up speed.


And then, the kitties began peeking out their heads.

"Watch out, Noah," I said glancing in the rearview mirror. "Somebody's sneaking up behind you!"

"Hey!" Noah said swinging his arm behind the seat. "Get back down there."

Several times, one of the five popped up to look out. Yet... no kitty attempted to break out.

So, Noah allowed the kitties to peer out the hatch-back window during this, their first, automobile ride.

And...
Mom allowed Noah to photograph the rascals because – It Was Time.

Winter's Whims

Along the

lake shore,

sheets

of ice

start to

form...




grabbing

onto

tall rushes,

and...





making

mysterious

shapes –

unto

Winter's

Whims.

Positively Potholders

Toast

Knife











Fork

Spoon






"Yes" is the reply to those wondering whether I do custom designs... in addition to my traditional patterns, including – but not limited to – hearts, fish, bear, moose, evergreen trees, cabins, tractors and coffee cups. (I loved the challenge of creating your contemporary-kitchen suggestion, B!)

This unique canvas easily accommodates outlines of simple shapes.

And in this process, I multi-task: creative outlet, fabric-supply depletion, and – most importantly – fund-raising to lead a small group of my father-in-law's cousins to see their immigrant grandmother's homestead in Norway next August. (I've a notion that this tour may become a separate blog.)

Ja, da! The ball is rolling... for now, it's Positively Potholders.

Giving Thanks...

... for the opportunity

to forego my usual routine during this
short school week,

I turn on a CD

of instrumental

Christmas hymns


and focus on fun



(that I'd boxed up,

put away

and given up on

long ago...)


snipping

and clipping,







pinning,

stitching,

turning,

pressing,

topstitching,









formatting

finishing

touches,













machine

embroidering,












and handling



(what many

would call)



a generous potholder...




or...


(what I consider)


a functional canvas

to be released.


"Tis the Gift to Be Simple"
starts the old Quaker song...


And for the simple gift of these three relaxing days, I Give Thanks.

Wishing you and yours a gracious Thanksgiving Day of peace and love.

Noah's Discoveries

"Hey, Mom! Look what I found," Noah said holding up a branch pulled from the forest floor.

"It's those giant pine cones that are really long. Can we take them home and make a wreath or something?"

Soon we were loading branches – of a timbered white-pine into our car's trunk – with Christmas in our minds.

We'd stopped at this particular trailhead to check out the ice forming on a pond we'd noticed during our Saturday-morning forest drive.

(Dad and the boys were away: pheasant hunting with family and on a church youth-group retreat.)

Then Noah and I walked down to the pond to see winter's first signs.

Across the thin, translucent sheet of ice, I admired slivers of tree-top reflections around a mossy log.

"Look at this!" Noah said holding up a couple leaves trapped in a small plate of ice.

As I focused my camera on his find, Noah said: "Hurry up! It's melting down my arm!"

On the trek back to the car, Noah noticed a fuzzy, hollow log. "That looks like a cozy, little place for somebody to hibernate."

As we wound along the forest road toward home, we discussed creative options for the pine cones: wreaths, outdoor pot arrangements and ornaments.

"Remember those gold spray-painted angels?" I asked. " We could try those. We'll need a some kind of nut for the head and milkweed pods for wings. "

We stopped near another water body to add milkweed pods to our car trunk collection.

"You know what?" Noah said.

"You should

make a

blog with

everything

we found

and call it "Noah's Discoveries." "That's a great idea," I agreed.




Sunday afternoon, Noah reminded me about the pine cone arrangements.

Light snow fell
flocking the spruce boughs
as we trimmed a few
from our tree line
at home.





In a plant pot weighted with stones, we stuck a few spruce sprigs and a couple branches of long, white-pine cones.

Viola!

Christmas –

including the Norwegian tradition of cat and pig –

amidst Noah's Discoveries.

Forest Finds

Today's


rose hip...













Yesterday's


wild rose...







How the seasons change Along Life's Road.

Pass On By

In that moment before sunset, I happened to be driving home – one eye on the road; the other on the western horizon.

A glance in my rear view mirror showed a truck tailing me on our usually quiet gravel road. Rather than speed up, I pulled over to the shoulder, let the driver pass, turned off the car, wandered over to the pasture fence and captured the day's end. Sometimes...
it's best to let the traffic just Pass On By.

Call It Progress

They

call

it

"progress"



as our local gravel roads are cleared, widened, straightened and prepared for blacktop to make driving a smoother trip. But I've wondered about this "progress" as I've watched the men and machines working... clearing the way during the past two weeks.

Today the crew worked farther north. I chose to drive by their now-quiet "progress" while en route into town on an errand.

I applauded their work taking down the bent-over pines – damaged in a spring ice storm years ago. Now more worries about when or upon whom they'll come crashing down.

But then I cringed at the loss of the roadside's wild plum trees and lilac bushes.

Whether the marsh marigolds – nestled in the roadside wetlands – survived the heavy machinery treads is a question only next spring will answer.

Driving up

the winding

foothills' road,

I saw other massive

pines dropped

and piled along the way

to make room

for the road's

realignment...

Here workers will shear down the hill and straighten the road – in hopes that icy conditions no longer will impair the school bus driver's ability to deliver students to their homes.

At this stage, the clearing for the new road was visible while the old road still cuts through the path.

I parked my car and hiked toward the road's new crest.

I noticed remnants of a brush pile from which white smoke had billowed in the sky.

Clearing the way

is a gigantic –

and devastating –

job...

As I reached the hilltop, I turned around.




Taking in

this

new

view,



I understood the wisdom of the road's designers. Not only will this new road be safer, but it will capture a beautiful vista –

one at which the twisting, old road only hinted.

In time, I envision biking with the boys or walking with Moose to this very spot to embrace the scenic pleasure. Ah, yes... Call It Progress.

Miracles Endure

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Snow pelted my coat's hood this morning as Moose pulled me along our yard's perimeter.

"Heel!" I commanded as we came to my flower bed. One hardy, green plant amidst the sea of dried leaves had caught my eye.

"Sit!" I said to stop this hunting dog from his patrol. I knelt down for a closer look at the snap dragon plant that Isaac had given me for Mother's Day.

"What's this?" I asked.

It is now mid-November – after several heavy frosts and three bouts of snow flurries. Still... this plant bears tiny blossom buds.

"How?" I wondered as I pulled my camera from my pocket to capture the phenomenon.

A couple weeks ago, I marveled at its persistence. Was there some special warm-air pocket surrounding this particular plant? How else could it survive temperatures dipping well below freezing? I figured it would soon die. Yet it continues to thrive... Why?

Back in September, I photographed this same plant: a raindrop-covered, pastel bloom and with a bitsy, chameleon spider waving its damp legs. I called that post: Miracles Galore. Today I call this one: Miracles Endure.

The After Glow

From my window, a ray of light caught
my eye –
enticing me
outdoors
to capture
its sinking
fullness.






I thought:


If I

run,



perhaps... I can... catch it – hovering... on... the... horizon....
I wasn't quick enough. The trees blocked a full view.

I started walking home, wondering: Why was I drawn outside to witness the giant, fiery-red sun sinking, but too late to capture its image to share? I really should have stayed inside, been satisfied watching from the window and peeled potatoes for supper.


Then I

glanced

back

over

my shoulder.


Taking in this new view,

I understood.


Sometimes... life draws us out into places, throws a turn in the road and we are blessed by the After Glow...

Oh, what I'd have missed from my window!