Friday, November 25, 2016

Japaneses Straight Stitch Work on a Crazy Quilt

Hi Dear Folk,

It's been a contemplative quiet time off, grey skies, writing letters, listening to BBC Radio and crocheting.  I did get some jewelry drawers sorted out, which I had promised myself I would get to for a while.  I have all these lovely broaches, but always seem to be in too much of a rush to find the one I want, so now they are all laid out and that gave me room to lay out my earrings, and now with one quick look I can find what I want without routing through.  Yippee!

I do love patch work quilts, but I just like to quietly sit and hand sew, come at put it down, pick it up when the mood takes me, so something irregular without a pattern suits me, hence a crazy quilt.  Just uses up all those odd bits of fabric.

I like the rhythm of feather stitch.

Something that caught my eye in one of my needlework books was Japanese straight stitch, and on a crazy quilt if you want to add Japanese stitches you can.  I like the rippled affect it gives like the sand on the waters edge, rippled by the waves.


Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Madame Solario by Gladys Huntington - Persephone Books

Hi Dear Folk,

I've just finished reading Madame Solario, just republished by Persephone Books.   As I read it from the original American edition where the author does not give her name. First published August 1956 The Viking Press, Inc.

The book is written in three parts and I keep wanting to re-title it and call it Madame Solange, not sure why.  The first and third part from the view of Bernard Middleton a young English man and the second part from the point of view of Madame Solario's brother, Eugene Harden.  So our view of Natalia or Nelly as her brother calls her is filtered through the happenings and viewpoint of men, and because of this we are no closer at the end of the book than the beginning of knowing what Madame Solario actually thinks.

Part One

The year and setting is 1906 a fashionable hotel Cadenabbia on Lake Como, one can only envision this time period, the year my grandmother was born.  The grand hotel which has guests from all over for the season, both Europe and the States.  Women are elegant in tight waisted, busted gowns with swishing trains, brimmed hats and flowing chiffon veils and long gloves.

She wore a large white hat - what was called a "restaurant hat" - with a transparent brim and a huge pink rose in front, and the same kind of rose was fastened to the belt of her white lace dress.

Part One is very light and almost vaporous, Madame Solario, seems almost vapid, glides along in her fair beauty, things happen around her, but she seems to have no substance, with an entourage of admirers from the young Mr. Middleton to the Russian Count Kovanski.  Who is she where is she from?  Does it really matter? She is so beautiful and puts them in a state of euphoria. It's here I almost gave the book up, where was it leading?  The only clue you have is some overheard gossip about her family.  Here the stage is set.

Stillness was usual with her.  One had no clue to what she was thinking.

Young Mr. Bernard Middleton becomes quite close to Madame Solario.

"Don't go away without letting me know."
"I can promise you that!"
"And let me know also if there is anything disagreeable,"  she murmured, so vaguely that her words were like the ghosts of words.

He walked on air.

Part Two

In part two her brother Eugene Harden most unexpectedly turns up.

"Ah, the same address as Madame's," said the clerk, betraying a little surprise as he took back the book.

Though without a foreign accent.  Harden didn't seem quite like an Englishman. He was not, according to Colonel Ross's conceptions, either the right kind or the wrong kind of Englishman.  Not quite English, yet too English to be foreign - one couldn't tell, in short, where he belonged.

Brother and sister at dinner.

The obvious affinity that was there seemed to enhance the total effect;  because of it they were even more striking together than either would have been alone.   And the over-deliberate motions without practical result, the graceful attitudes and the soundless conversation, could have suggested a shadow-play, some highly polished form of evocative illusion.

Harden on fortune and future. Right from the beginning you know that her brother is the serpent in paradise. But then what does that reflect on her?

"Your chances," said Harden, speaking faster.  "And you may do much more brilliantly yet.  It wasn't very brilliant the first time.  Even with the walking reminder at your side you can do better!"  ..."I mean to share your future, as well as your fortune now."

In Nelly's, for that is what Eugene called her, bedroom at night, making plans for her future which is his future, and these plans are always changing.  He plans she listens, and just listens, and listens.  Hardly a reply given.

"Are we really here - up here - suspended in this lighted cage, just you and I?"

"... I was like Peter Schlemihl, the man without a shadow. ..."

History repeats itself, we see the same in society today.

"Those people" - and he made a movement of the head to the left, towards Cadenabbia - "they have the superiority of owing their good fortune to something they themselves had nothing to do with.  And that is the superiority I envy!  To be born with a sort of super-self, for that's what rank is, a super-self that planes over frontiers - to be born thinking one has the right to look down - Hasn't that got more charm than anything one can do for one's self?"

But as though the word had just come to his ear - "Grandmother!  Grandmother and Gossefors!  Why couldn't we have stayed there?  If only we had!  If we had, I wouldn't be talking as I do now.  We were looked up to there.  Grandmother was born Baroness Stjerneld.  We were the manor family.  - But doom might have come upon that too."

Count Kovanski.

Everyone is there but the Centaur - the Russian.  Nelly, you must tell me about him, for he loves you to madness!"

How close are brother and sister?

"... Nelly.  You can't look at me with the eyes of other people."  He turned to look into her eyes.  She let him do it.  "I am with myself when I am with you."

The first to see them was the American Wilbur, and they were so much the fashion that he was delighted to connect himself with them by hailing their appearance.
"Here are the Gemini!"

Eugene says, this paragraph very succinctly sums up their relationship.

"I plan nothing without thinking of you.  And wouldn't this suit you better?  I marry, you marry, and we are respectable instead of notorious!  Isn't there really more to be gained by being respectable?  You will say, Why decide everything now?  but I can see it didn't bring me luck in the past to drop what I had in hand because I thought that if one had one chance one was sure to have another.  I won't do it again.  If we marry we will be kept apart as we wouldn't be in my other plan, but - Who knows?  Anyhow , nothing with us will last for very long;  I feel it. ..."

Eugene and Nelly speaking about Count Kovanski.

"I told you before that you must marry.  And you have made it your fate to marry him.  You did that when you took him as a lover."

Part Three

Nelly, Madame Solario, tries to make a break from her brother by appealing to young Mr. Bernard  Middleton to accompany her by train to a Hotel in Florence to catch up with some old acquaintances an elderly gentlemen, Mr. Chase and a relative of his, Miss Armstrong.  Unfortunately they have already left.  After this things move very quickly to the conclusion.

"Yes,"  said Bernard after a moment.
"Is it a necessity?  Are you a relation?"
"But you have relations?"  The doctor, having impatiently looked him up and down, was now observing him, taking him in.  "You have a family somewhere?"
"Yes,"  said Bernard after another and longer pause.
The doctor seemed to come to a decision, and he first manifested his decision by putting his case under his arm and pulling on his gloves.  They were grey cotton gloves, and Bernard gazed at them as if fascinated.

"I don't know what your studies have been, but you may know that geologists speak of faults when they mean weaknesses in the crust of the earth that cause earthquakes and subsidence."  Having pulled on his gloves, he was energetically buttoning them.  "And I will tell you something out of my own experience.  There are people like 'faults,' who are a weakness in the fabric of society;  there is disturbance and disaster wherever they are."

He gave Bernard a fierce look beneath his bristling eyebrows.  "Young man, go away from here!  Get onto solid ground as soon as you can!"

This book is written in such a subtle way, that some sentences you have to read two or three times and ask yourself 'did or do I understand that?'

An interesting read.  Not quite my style.  But I can see that released as it was in the fifties with an anonymous author, and lots of talk as to whether this was autobiographical, led to quite a stir.


Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Five Tips to Solve Thread Tension Problems

Five Tips to Solve Thread Tension Problems

  1. Use a brush to clean under the needle plate and in the bobbin case to remove any accumulated lint.  Oil if necessary. 

  2. Replace your needle.  Even a new needle can be damaged.  (Recommended is a Topstitch needle for decorative stitching because of its sharp point and large eye)

  3. Re-thread your machine

  4. Re-set the bobbin, making sure the bobbin is turning in the direction the manufacturer recommends. 

  5. Change your thread in the top and bobbin, so they are the same weight and composition, some like to use 40wt cotton for this step.  Make sure you have your thread spooled correctly.  Cross wound spools need to feed into your machine on your horizontal spool holder and parallel wound spools need to be mounted on your vertical spool holder with the thread unspooling from the back.

If these steps don't solve your tension problems, it's probably time for a tune-up at your local dealer.

I found this most helpful as I have several older sewing machines and some do not have a manual.  I hope you do too.


Thursday, November 17, 2016

#20 Massachusetts State Quilt Square

Hi Dear Folk,

I was trying to precis my thoughts on Massachusetts.  For us to drive there is about four hours to the state line and five hours to Boston. My most vivid image of Massachusetts, well really of Cape Cod, the peninsular area, was on a very bright day flying back from England and I looked out of the plane window and there was Cape Cod below me, looking just like a laid out map.

The name Massachusetts can be segmented as "mass-adchu-s-et" where mass is 'large', adchh is 'hill', s is a diminutive suffix meaning 'small', and et is a locative suffix, identifying it as a 'place.'  Of course it's named after the indigenous people by the first Pilgrims and is considered part of the New England area.  So many names are from England.  In fact many of the original settlers came from the East Anglia area of England and this is reflected in the names, including Haverhill, where my sister lives in England, also Wethersfield where my mum grew up and there was an American Air Base there during WWII, and of course Boston.

My husband's family came over here in 1638, and the furthest his family have traveled west as settlers so to speak is us in Pennsylvania.  Most of the family still living in Vermont, after having settled for a while in New Hampshire and Massachusetts.  I guess we just can't leave that North East Atlantic area.

I do like to think about what their life was like, remember the Mayflower only landed in 1620.  Were they around for King Philip's War, or the Boston Tea Party, or did they just get on with their lives, being farmers?

Well in any case here is the state quilt square for Massachusetts.


P.S. I unraveled those socks, you knew I would right?  If only I had known I would.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Names for the Sea, Strangers in Iceland by Sarah Moss

Hi Dear Folk,

I've now read two of Sarah Moss's books this one Names for the Sea of their time spent in Iceland as a family and the other fiction Night Waking.

I loved this book and anyone who wants to get a better picture of Iceland or is planning to visit, should read Names for the Sea.  Sarah Moss applied for a job at the University of Iceland teaching literature for a whole school year.  It's their and especially her view on looking for an apartment, buying a car and settling into her new job.  Plus getting to know the Icelandic people, and the beauty of the land.

You always think of Iceland as a place to visit to see the Northern Lights, or is on the news for another island rising out of the sea, or a volcanic explosion downing all planes with ash fall out, and I think of Icelandic wool and knits. But here we view what it is like to live in Iceland as an outsider.

By foreign standards, ones other than Icelanders, they seem rude, there is in fact no word for "please" in Icelandic and "thank you" and "sorry" are used much less, than in British and American English.   Moss says on this.

Nevertheless, it has been clear to me from the beginning that Iceland is a place where the most intricate and important things are unarticulated, partly because intricacy doesn't need to be spelt out in a place where everyone has always known how things are done, and partly because it is unIcelandic to explain yourself.  Self-explanation suggest some entitlement on the part of your audience to know your interior life.  Icelandic drivers don't indicate, Petur once told me, because they don't see why anyone else needs to know where they're going.

At dinner you don't need to say please could you pass this or that, and thank you when you receive it, because it's a given your are sitting there for a meal and of course you want the salt.

It's just so false, says one of my students, all this thanking people and apologizing all the time when there's nothing to be grateful or sorry about.  It's like Americans telling you to have a nice day when they've never even met you and they really don't give a damn about your day.

Petur a friend moved to Iceland in the sixties when he was a young man and worked on a farm.  Johanna the farmer's wife liked to talk.

She told him about the arrival of rubber boots in rural Iceland, when for the first time it was possible for people who spent their days working outside to keep their feet dry.  The old people, she said, didn't like it, found dry feet uncomfortable and were sure it must be unhealthy.  They used to pour water into their wellingtons before they went out, (Along the lines of a wet-suit, I muse; your feet would be wet but not, after a while, cold.)  And she remembered the building of a road up the valley, the novelty of being able to walk all the way to the next farm, without having to look at her feet.

'I thought Icelandic women used to knit while they were walking?'

Petur lifts his hands, as if any idiot can knit while crossing the lava.  "Well, you can do that, can't you?  You don't have to watch your knitting.'

Most Icelandic people own several cars to a household and the vehicle of choice are large American SUVs.  which came as a total surprise to me.

It's only foreigners who cycle and they'd just get killed if they went on the road.  

Getting to know her students.

Travel writers are always writing home.  They tell me that the Icelandic for stupid is heimskur, one who stays at home, and that there is a saying:  'He is as stupid as a child reared at home.'  This is a nation where travel is the precondition of intelligence.  But, there's another saying they told me, right at the beginning:  'Iceland is the best in the world.'

Foreigners may know how to do things abroad, but only Icelanders understand Iceland.  This country seems both outward-looking and insular, a nation of deeply provincial voyagers. 'Insular', Petur reminds me, is the adjectival form of 'island', and not incompatible with 'well-travelled.'  I try, and fail, to explain to the students why English has two words for 'foreign' and 'outlandish'.

Moss has already found out that there are no charity/thrift shops in Iceland and no second hand furniture shops. all her second hand furniture was found by word of mouth, a friend of a friend has something stored, if not it goes to the landfill.

She wanted to visit the other side of society the poor.  A friend Einar says he'll try but does not think there is anywhere like that, a place where food and items are handed out to the poor.

Young Icelanders keep telling me that there's no class system in Iceland, that inequality is a foreign phenomenon, but the fact of many of my students' alienation from poverty seems to prove Icelandic social inequality.  I remember a colleague in Sociology telling me that not only is there a difference between the middle class and the poor, but the difference is so great that the existence of the poor is news to some of the middle class.  Einar starts his car.  'I did not know,' he says.  'That is the worst thing, I did not know.'

Maybe, I think.  Or maybe the worst thing is that I've known about poverty all my life and I'm not shocked.

More about knitting.

Icelandic undergraduates, it turned out, can knit while drinking coffee, taking notes on their Apple Macs and making enlightening contributions to discussion to Lyrical Ballads. ... Colleagues knit in meetings, which seems a far more constructive use of time than the doodles produced in the English equivalents.

Mark a Canadian married to an Icelandic girl, who has built a beautiful Eco friendly house from trash.

He glances up at me, gauging the real extent of my enthusiasm, and then goes on.  He and Sigurn Maria got much of their furniture from the dump, too.  I didn't know you could, I say, and recount our attempts to find unwanted furniture, the way we thought we'd be able to pickup second-hand or free and found that that market doesn't exist here, certainly not for foreigners.  No, he agrees, it's crazy.  Every time he goes to the dump he sees useful and valuable things thrown away;  garden furniture, sideboards, tables and chairs, a cement mixer he thought he could use.  Televisions and computers.  So after a couple of time he asked the guys there if he could take some of it.  It was only going to a landfill.  They said no.  He asked why not.  They glanced at each other - crazy foreigner!  Because, they explained slowly, some one's thrown it out.  It's some one else's trash.  Mark didn't mind.  No, they said.  No way.  Imagine if you take it and and someone sees that you're using their trash!  Imagine it!

This mind set is hard for me to understand especially when just about everything in Iceland has to be imported.

I do like this idea of Sewing Circles.

Sewing circles seem to be established in adolescents  and continue until death, although some are intergenerational and therefore, presumably, infinite.  Many women are members of more than one, which is probably part of the answer to my question about what Icelanders do in the winter.  Yes confirms Anna, it is lovely.

More on knitting well you know I would mention that.

We often talk about the three pillars of Icelandic knitting heritage:  the sweater, the shawls, and the rose-pattern shoe-inserts.  The inserts are a very special part of Icelandic knitting.  They are very intricate little designs, complex motifs in interesting colours.  In those days people wore sheepskin shoes, and they put these soles into them.  It was a craft of women, in the days when people were wearing only grey and brown, homespun colours, everything very dull, and then there were these bright decorations hidden inside their shoes.  They were for warmth, really, they had a function.  

I love this idea, it's like lining a winter coat with a wonderful splashy lining or a dark leather bag with pop out colours.

The word 'berserk'

... across a lava field called Berserkjahraun.  Berserkers were Vikings who went into trance-states of indiscriminate and uncontrollable violence, usually in battle, and this lava field is named for two berserkers in Eyrbyggjasaga who were killed here by being boiled in a bath-house built over a geothermal spring.

Sounds fun.

Did I mention that there is a lot of Folklore, quite understandable with long winters at the firside and a verbal heritage, many are related to trolls, little people and giants.  This is an important part of their heritage with even plaques marking certain locations of trolls.  This interest in where the little people live even touches the building of new roads and buildings.  Ones who claim to have a closer leaning in these fields are contacted to find out would this be an auspicious place to build a road or building, or would it upset the little people or would they look on favourably.  The only troll I remember from childhood was in the story "Three Billy Goats Gruff."

Would totally recommend this book.  And now for dreams of a trip to Iceland.


Tuesday, November 15, 2016

#19 Maryland State Quilt Square

Hi Dear Folk,

Another State American quilt square, Maryland.  Maryland is just south of us and a short drive to the state line.  It has two maritime coastlines, the Atlantic Ocean and the Chesapeake Bay, so is a go to place for vacations and the shore.  Also famous is Maryland Crab.  It is one of the smallest states in the USA.  Is known for the Chincoteague pony also know as the Assateague horse.  Legend has it that these are descendants of Spanish horses shipwrecked off the Virginia coast on their way to Peru in the 16th century.  The ponies live on the Maryland/Virginia border on Assateague Island.


Monday, November 14, 2016

Tins and Things

Hi Dear Folk,

Mr.B, sometimes take a drive out a little further into the country, although every where there seems to be building going on so hard to totally qualify it as country, but it used to be and it's further out from Philly.  We have four fav thrifts and book shops that we hit at the same time.  Followed by a Wendy's $0.50 cent ice-cream, yes we are big spenders.

I love to collect a little something different in the cuisine area and this slotted into that spot.  They have to be made in some country other than China, unless authentically Chinese.  This fit into that criteria, made in the USA.

What do you think it was used for?  Almost reminds me of an old English blancmange shape, but they were usually glass, and you could not actually stand this.  Any ideas?  Please do offer them.  The bottom pulls away from the top as you can see has a handle on the top and the bottom.

An English tin with hinges.  Have you noticed a lot of tins are not hinged anymore, except small mint tins.

This crochet pattern caught my eye and it has a very simple construction.


Sunday, November 13, 2016

What's Up Weekend

Hi Dear Folk,

It's been a lovely weekend sunny and low key.  The Boy had a Miata agenda to work on his passenger window which was quite stiff, winding up and down, so another job off his list. The car sat out all night with no window in so good job it was a nice weekend and he's more trusting than I am.  His dad helped him get the glass back in today.  He still has to put his new speakers in.

Acorn heaven for squirrels.

Japanese maple.

Did get my geraniums in.

And my bougainvillea.

Indian cotton throws, so seventies.

Low autumn light.

No it's not a baby hat, it's meant to be a sock, rather on the large size I think, but I've unravelled it so many times getting the cable stitch correct, bit of trial and era, that I'm not starting again.  If I like the style I'll make another pair.  I can always wear these as over socks, in very cold weather.  I am at least happy with the braided cable stitch now.


End of Summer and Autumn Hangs On

Hi Dear Folk,

We are having such wonderful weather long into the season and the leaves on the trees seem to have lasted, no gales or terrible squalls to knock them all off.

Mums and pumpkins are quintessentially the autumn American scene and I love it, every nuance of shade on a mum, every shape of all those pumpkins, squash and gourds.  I had pumpkin soup last night with toasted pumpkin seeds in, so good.

I came home one evening from work to an agglomeration of flowers.  Mr. B. had filled four vases from what was still blooming in the garden and told me I must leave them in the assigned vases as much thought had gone into this, so here we are.

The above vase was his mum's a beautiful rose color, I would say depression era vase.

A Japanese teapot.

This vase was also his mum's and I think had much use, as it is a little chipped around the top, but is a great shape, you cannot actually see the pretty glass bottom on this which is round with bubbles in.

It's all the more poignant to have these as Mr. B's, mum died when he was four.


Saturday, November 12, 2016

R. Atkinson Fox

Hi Dear Folk,

And so too a gentler time where one becomes lost in nostalgia of beautiful gardens, hollyhocks and roses and little thatched cottages, fountains, lakes and ladies in flowing Grecian gowns, such is the Golden Age of illustration of R. Atkinson Fox,

The first one I ever bought was at a thrift, must be over thirty years ago, just because I loved the print and it wasn't until much later that I began to realize that this was a certain artist belonging to a certain school of art.  Over the years I have added to this collection until now it covers almost an entire wall in my sitting room.  They come from all over, a trip to Bar Harbor, Maine, Salisbury, Maryland, Ottawa, Ontario and many other places.  Not all Atkinson Fox but of that school.

So when I saw this little beauty for $2.75 well why not.


Friday, November 11, 2016

Tomb Stones, Teasels and Treas

Hi Dear Folk,

Nothing is more retrospective than walking through a grave yard of tomb stones.  It makes you distill things down to the basic, family, friends and faith.


I've listened:  and all the sounds I heard
Were music,—wind, and stream, and bird.
With youth who sang from hill to hill
I’ve listened: my heart is hungry still.

I’ve looked: the morning world was green;
Bright roofs and towers of town I’ve seen;
And stars, wheeling through wingless night.
I’ve looked: and my soul yet longs for light.

I’ve thought: but in my sense survives
Only the impulse of those lives
That were my making. Hear me say
‘I’ve thought!’—and darkness hides my day.

Siegfried Sassoon

A walk in the woods.

And by teasel field.


Thursday, November 10, 2016

Scavenger Hunt at the Natural History Museum, New York City

Hi Dear Folk,

Last week we traveled up to our NYC office for a Team Building Scavenger Hunt.  Here we are in the lobby area finding the groups we have been assigned to.  We were named the Clueless Group, I'm not sure who in our group chose that as I was the only Pennsylvanian.

We all had Metro passes and were on a quest to find thirty items at the Natural Science Museum which is by Central Park.  All the group had to stay together and had to take a selfie in front of the found object.

Here is our group in front of an emu. Lighting was low, so sorry for bad pic. We found twenty-seven items out of the thirty.  One had been removed, one you couldn't get to because of a special dinner event, that looked pretty swanky and one which only one group found.  So we didn't do badly.  We walked about four miles in the museum, and I think I did pretty good, considering that most my group was half my age, and you know what knowledge does count for something.

Two of our group in the Subway on our ride back to the office,  Lester and Samanta, Anna is the other side of the door.

Afterwards a private room at Jack Doyle's Pub for drinks and finger food.  I plonked myself at the upstairs bar and ordered an IPA, never tasted better.

Waiting to see if we actually won anything.


Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Penn Station, NYC Makes Me Cry

Hi Dear Folk,

Every time I go up to NYC by train our incoming station is Penn Station and I just want to cry for what was destroyed in 1963  See this article "What Penn Station Used To Look Like."

Even though there are thoughts (see here) to do something about Penn Station which has long dark narrow corridors, the roof leaks, no natural light and is totally not user friendly.  You do not stand on the platform to wait for your train, you have to stand in a holding area looking at the boards and when your train comes in then you all surge down to the narrow platforms.  Thus my new banner, what one part of Penn Station looks like now.  And this is what it used to look like.

In this holding area there is not a seat to be seen, unless you want to sit in Dunkin Donuts, Taco Bell or any other number of small and dinghy chain food restaurants. After a day in NYC all you want to do is sit down and you can't even do that.  It is totally beyond my comprehension that a train station that has a usage of 650,000 passengers per day, should be so ugly, and that 650,000 people per day put up with this is outrageous.

Obviously I was just up in NYC.  In my opinion Penn Station was even grander than Grand Central which did manage to survive.


Monday, November 7, 2016

MacAusland Wool Mill, PEI

Hi Dear Folk,

It is a long while since I have been to PEI and I have wanted to return for so long.  While looking for North American yarn I ran across this MacAusland's Woolen Mills on PEI.  It seems you can buy yarn from them and I thought their price was quite reasonable.  Do take a look.  Also there is a nice write up and pictures on Rebecca Mezzoff's Blog about her visit to the Woolen Mill.

They specialize in woolen blankets.  MacAusland's Woolen Mill is family owned and operated, the business began as a sawmill and rollmill in 1870.  In 1902, the company began producing woolen yarn and in 1932 began the production of woolen blankets.

I think it's wonderful that there are still family owned businesses like this around.  I think their website would benefit from a revamp.  It was great to see all the photos Rebecca took, to have a better view of the mill.


Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

 Hi Dear Folk,

I can't believe it's November 1st.  We've been having some beautiful weather again, up in the eighties, as it was for last weekend.  I managed to get out in the yard for a bit and bring in many of my terracotta and china pots, we keep them on the outside basement steps, which are covered, as space for garden items is at a premium.  Was able to transplant some geraniums out of the garden back into pots and hope to propagate them and keep them through the winter, I will see how well that works out.  Also brought in my bougainvillea, hope that makes it.  The squirrels decimated my Tahitian Bridle Veil, I may be able to salvage some, re pot it and bring that in for the winter.

I've been working on my crazy quilt, piecing and feather stitching.  I just got another Sarah Moss book from the library, this is fiction "Night Waking."  It's proving to be an interesting read.  I just finished Names For The Sea, autobiographical about Iceland.  So far a lot of the beginning of Night Waking I think could almost be autobiographical as Sarah Moss has two young boys and Anna has two young boys.

Just a couple of pics from The Boy of his trip last weekend to Shenandoah National Park, Virginia.

He had lovely weather all weekend, what a view and here is his Mazda Miata, just right for this kind of drive.

The Boy.

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