Day 295/365 Things My Daughter Finds for Me at Target...

Remember when your kids were little and they'd bring you grimy handfuls of dandelions and it'd be all like a Hallmark moment?

Yeah, me too.

Day 294/365 Bamboozled

Pickings were scarce at today's estate sale but we did find this late 1890's bamboo and wicker sewing table.

You can see the bamboo ribs in the legs, with slightly bulbed feet and a gradual outward splay in each leg.

The second shelf is wicker set inside a wooden frame.

Best of all, the wooden top is hinged along one side to allow the top to lift up.

A divided wooden tray sit inside, waiting for thread, needles, buttons and other sewing sundries.

The wooden tray sits on two wooden rails, leaving a large open compartment underneath -meant for scissors, patterns, extra fabric, cut quilt blocks or other larger sewing supplies.

All I need to do is clean it up, decide whether or not to paint it (the brown isn't original), and then migrate it over to the booth.

Day 293/365 Hope Closet

Living in a house built in 1858, (by people who apparently only owned 2 sets of clothing) means that over the last 153 years, our existing closets were carved out of larger rooms. Electricity wasn't part of the consideration. Well, except for that overhead light that keeps breaking because someone yanks on the chain too hard. The one I quit replacing after one too many yanks.

So when I needed to clean out the closet (having promised to send my Minnesota sweaters up to my cousin in the mountains) the first thing I had to do was round up extension cords, power bars and lamps.

Due to the lack of electricity (energy,motivation, whatever) it's been a few years since the closet was cleaned out. I actually found jackets that still have shoulder pads. And a strange blazer-sort-of-thing I have no memory of ever buying (and a window).

More quilts, more afghans, more comforters and two burgundy pillows that look like they came out of the Arabian Nights.

Best find of the day: the baby quilts I made for my daughter. They fit perfectly in that big drawer at the bottom of the new armoire.

And the satin crazy quilt my great-aunt Sadie made. This would be the same one I took to the hospital with me the night my daughter was born.

And her first (and only) cut (measuring about 10" long) - covered in patches - her dad was driving truck then, and she had to have Mickey and Minnie ....

Apparently she was also a Marine, a member of the Beatles, owned an eagle, and was a Danish/UK/Scot. Learning to spell and sit up would come later. Priorities are important.

Also found the cat under all those afghans. He was *not* wearing his cut.

Day 289/365 Feline Fuhrer

Sometimes at an estate sale, you find things that you never knew or imagine exist.

And you just can't pass them up.

Like this vintage (1950's?) photo.

Someone loved this kitty enough to take a portrait, blow it up to 8x10, frame it and then keep it for approximately 60 years.

I can't decide if his name was Adolf or Charlie.

Or if he goose-stepped with one paw raised, or toddled along in a bowler hat twirling his cane.

Or maybe he wiggled his eyebrows, chewed on his cigar, and hung out with Harpo and Chico.

Yes, I bought him. No, I have no idea why. Everyone needs an 8x10 of the Fuhrer, don't they?

Day 288/365 Eight Small Men

Being from Appalachia means having quilting women in your family. That means having large amounts of quilts on hand, made by Mama, Grandma, Aunt Sadie, Great-Grandma, and in this case, myself.

When living in Minnesota, this is a good thing, since it's nothing to have five quilts on the bed at one time. However, relocating to Virginia means *not* having even one quilt on the bed for nine months out of the year.

So where do you put them?

You put them here....

Because sometimes the best places come in pieces and have to be taken apart and reassembled...




Hooks, shelves and sides need removing....

The mahogany base needs cleaning...

Lion feet need polishing ( they hide wooden caster rollers)...

Skeleton keys must be fished out of the bombay drawer...

Top cap and beveled full-length mirror are removed for transport...

And whatever you do, don't lose the pegs... because the entire piece is pegged together (quality craftsmanship from 1890).

Once it's home, reassembly starts upstairs. First the base with the lion feet, casters, and drawer. Then the back and first side are pegged in and attaching screws replaced.

Then the third side...

And finally the top cap is lifted onto its pegs...the mirror door rehung...

And it's ready for...

All of this...


Which just barely fits, and it appears I already need another armoire*.

*Armoire....a freestanding closet, originating in the castles of the wealthy in Europe...one of the first exported products from America to England, due to plentiful wood in the Colonies..originally a decent sized armoire was based on the 'eight small men' system (in other words, a decent sized armoire would be able to hold eight small men. ) This system was probably invented by the lady of the castle.

Day 287/365 The Nursery

Look carefully behind the lampshades, lamps needing re-wiring, antique spool cabinet, and overflowing bookcase, all the way to the ledge of white brick (the one with the Lurch hand on one end and giant books on the other end, right under the framed Lady of the Lake painting).

That white ledge is actually our fireplace mantle (our only working fireplace in our 1858 home). Presently it has gas logs which have been used exactly twice in fourteen years (global warming being what it is and Virginia being hot as Hades).

More importantly, this summer, it is The Nursery.

Yes, our 1858 chimney has been adopted by a community of chimney swifts and it sounds like there are hundreds in there.

Mama builts a nest out of twigs and saliva, and somehow it clings to the vertical surface. They prefer hollowed out trees as nesting sites, but with so much human development the swifts have evolved to include brick and mortar chimneys, meaning primarily old chimneys like mine, since modern chimneys tend to be metal lined or capped. Metal linings mean the babies can't cling to the sides, and they slide and fall to the bottom and starve to death. A capped chimney completely blocks access.

Babies are tiny, naked and pink. Kindof like humans.

Teenagers hang on the sides of the chimneys, chattering and begging for food, preening and showing off their wings. Again, much like humans.

And about two weeks after the chattering begins, mama takes them out for their first night flight, and they spend the evening cruising the loop around their nesting spot. A couple nights later, they begin to visit other nests, and eventually a huge flock of swifts will dance in the night sky.

You may wonder why I'm delighted to have chimney swifts in our house.

First, each chimney swift eats up to 12,000 insects a day. They love mosquitoes, gnats,and other flying insects. Every time mama comes back to the nest she carries approximately 600 insects in her mouth to hand off to the babies. Fortunately, their feeding season has come after the firefly season, otherwise we'd have issues.

Second, chimney swifts are a protected species under the Migratory Bird Act. These guys are on vacation from the Amazon Basin in Peru and it's a violation of federal law to take down their nests or interfere with their babies.

Not that I would do that. I've gotten use to the chattering in the chimney - they seem to love TV, and comment endlessly on it. The dogs have quit staring at the fireplace. The cats are disgusted.

But the third reason I'm delighted to have the swifts as houseguests is mostly because I'm so damned happy they aren't bats.

***Obvious note: Except for the first photo, these photos are not mine. For one thing, it's apparent I can't get anywhere near my fireplace. Also, my house has an extremely steep roof, and I'm not about to climb it just to use a zoom lens to take photos of the swifts, who would probably swarm out and knock me off the roof anyways. Happily for me, someone else did, and I do appreciate that. And I hope they survived.

Day 285/365 Classic

Walked out the door today to a virtual WALL OF FREAKING HEAT...as in 107 degrees.

And instantly traveled back in time to 1974...




Hotter-than-hell July - heat shimmering on the road- trees all dusty- no breeze whatsoever - riding in my cousin's Chevy SS - spinning out on mountain curves - windows down -laughing at everything- and the radio cranked up as high as it would go...playing the best Southern band ever....The Allman Brothers (second only in my own personal triumverate to my boys from Liverpool).

Reminded me of a time when the South was cool, in between the Bull Conner Days and today's Tea Party occupation. Back when tall skinny Georgia boys with beautiful long hair could take a simple guitar and create magic.

When I lived up north and flew home for visits, Southbound was playing on my headset when we passed over the first Appalachian Mountains - kindof a homecoming song for me - odd hybrid exile that I was.

In college it was The Allman Brothers that I stuck on the turntable on the first day back in the dorms - just so everyone would know where I came from.

Can't remember how many times I've seen them in concert - none recently -but as soon as I heard Gregg had a new CD out, I ran out to buy it, forever grateful that he made it through the last 30 years and seems to have come out okay, unlike a lot of us.

And it was The Allman Brothers I gave to my daughter - she has her own signature song. Pretty sure she was the only newborn rocking out to Jessica.




Perfection.

Makes 107 degrees totally bearable.