Little Quilts Go Out Into The World

There is great satisfaction in getting up on a Saturday morning, deciding to make a quilt, and having it all done by Sunday afternoon.  Having a large stash of fabrics and quilt batts makes this possible.  As part of a general tidy-up at the Blue Door First National Bank of Fabric and Quilt Batts, I've decided to start making regular withdrawals.  Over the last few months I've been drawing down my supply of small quilt batts, which measure in the range of 45" by 60."

I then pick one fabric for the front and a different fabric for the back, and typically a third fabric for the binding.  I'm old-fashioned in some ways, so I baste the layers together by hand, but then I do the quilting by machine.  I finish sewing the binding down by hand.  I just think it looks nicer.

This batch have been sent out into the world where I hope they'll look bright and cheerful on the backs of sofas or recliners.  They're a good size for naps or watching television.  The red one with the green back measures 36" by 45", which I understand is a good size for a wheelchair user.

Ha! Missed me by a mile!

Cox's Orange Pippen from my tree

Most adults will admit to being terrified by the flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz, but fewer people seem to remember the apple trees.

When I was little I knew about apple trees.  At this time of year my family would visit orchards and cider mills.  Sometimes we'd pick apples from abandoned trees growing along fence rows. 

Imagine my horror when I was very small and watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time and learning that the grown-ups had forgotten to tell me that the apple trees might be tetchy about having their apples picked!


But I'm glad to say I coped, have always liked apples, and have planted apple trees just about every place I've lived.  My apple trees are largely sweet-tempered, providing the loveliest blossoms in the spring.  At this time of year they're finishing up dropping their crop of apples, and if I happen to be walking under one of them when an apple lets go, well, I don't take it too personally.

Here I come, with a sharp knife and a clean apron

Since the brambles at the beginning of July, I've addressed peaches (60 pounds for slices and nectar,) beets (15 pounds of beets for pickles and 6 pounds of greens, because they're my favorite greens,) and tomatoes (25 pounds for crushed.)

I'm done for the season only because I've run out of cupboard space.  This is too bad, because the apples are coming in now, and a dozen jars of applesauce would be welcome over the course of the winter.

If the title of this post seems vaguely familiar to you, it's because I borrowed it from "Here I come with a sharp knife and a clear conscience," most recently seen in several of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin seafaring novels.  It would appear that he found it in Volume 8 of The Monthly Repository (published 1834,) in a description of life aboard ship.  The boatswain and his mates sang this out as incentive to get sleeping sailors out of their hammocks before being unceremoniously dumped out by having their hammocks cut down.

The Brambles

This year the planets aligned and the bramble fruits were ready for picking on a weekend when the temperature wasn't absolutely sweltering.  I was out in West Union Garden's fields by 8:00 am last Saturday.  By 11 am I'd picked 15 pounds of red raspberries and an equal weight of blackberries.  I was really, really tempted by the tayberries, but decided that 30 pounds of picking was enough for one day.

The blackberries were put up in quarts in a thin syrup, while the raspberries were all pureed and put up in one quart bags and frozen, to be made up into jam over the winter, when one is looking for ways to warm up the kitchen a little.

After all the pureeing and all the washing, up my apron was ready for a good laundering.

Independence Day, 2018

If the Universe does not provide you with an antique tractor parade in a convenient location, make your own.

I've just finished sewing the binding down on this lap quilt. using fabrics from another withdrawal from the First National Bank of Fabric (and Quilt Batts)

Have a wonderful 4th.

Well this could get interesting

During my after-dinner garden tour I turned around to find this fine specimen of a skunk having a snack of sunflower seeds under the bird feeder, not six feet away from me.  I tip-toed into the house to grab my camera so that I could get this picture.  You'll understand why I didn't try to get any closer.

I made conversational noises at it with absolutely no effect.  Either it can't see or hear me, or it's too hungry to care about that big bi-pedal thing making those funny noises.  It could also be an escaped pet, as it's legal in Oregon to keep a pet skunk.

When I'm sure it's gone I'll take down the bird feeders.  Skunks are undoubtedly handsome creatures, but I just don't think I need to provide a feeding station for them.

Slightly less boring than sorting the button box, but not by much

As part of my effort to start drawing down my strategic reserve of fabrics and quilt batts I recently decided to re-organize my scrap bin.  I do this every seven or eight years, but until now I never had any clear goals in mind.

This time I had some rules.  I even wrote them up.

The 5 1/2" square rule is based on my plan to use up some small quilt batts that will make up perfectly with 108 5" squares (9 across by 12 down, quarter inch seam allowances.)

The fabrics in this picture, however, failed the "large enough to produce a 5 1/2 inch square" test, so they've been put into their own little box, on the theory that they might come in handy someday for mending (I have a real talent for tearing out the corners of my apron pockets.)

This all reminds me of a lovely book, String Too Short To Be Saved.