Empty Wallet, Full Heart

Sign reads: LEMONADE 1 CUP = 1 HUG

We could bring up our kids to be capitalists, or we could give them a different education.

Beauty in Winter

I've had some wool scraps for a while.  And I've had this bonnet in mind for a while.  Finally.



Also, it snowed.



We went sledding in the pastures.



It was great.  Even a little romantic.

Bonnet around my neck!

Heritage Harvest Festival

Yesterday I got a chance to work at the Heritage Harvest Festival at Monticello.  Co-sponsored by Southern Exposure Seed Exchange, growers and sellers of heritage seeds, the event merged food, crafts, and history.  (You can find SESE at events across the country.)

When I wasn't stocking tomatoes for taste testing, I wandered around and enjoyed myself.



Wren's pretty good at rolling the hoop...



Oops, dropped it!

And Purl is getting noticed in these parts.  Here he is doing a chairmaking demonstration for festival guests.  Roy Underhill would approve.

Living in the Real World

Life has been so good to me lately.

Work Should Be Fun

at the inspection station

Quality of life matters, and life doesn't stop when you're on the clock.  Find your joy.

Bark Strips for Chair Seats

My friend and neighbor Purl has been going crazy over repairing and making chairs for the last few years.  He's still learning a lot, but he has quite a bit to teach.  Some of us gathered around a fallen tree to see how to gather bark strips to weave a chair seat.



Wren scrapes away outer bark with a draw knife while Purl stars a new strip with hatchet and mallet.



The inner bark peels away in a long continuous strip.



If there aren't any twigs or knots in the way to break the grain, you can get a very long strip!



Wren coils the bark for storage.  This roll will fit neatly in a five gallon bucket for soaking when we are ready to weave.



An example of a finished seat, on a chair frame of Purl's own making.

Purl is obsessed with making and learning about chairs, so I'm sure I'll be featuring him again soon.

Beautiful Morning

I got up early yesterday morning to turn off the garden irrigation.  Early, in this case, is 6:20.  The grass was absolutely dew-soaked and my feet dripped all the way to the dining hall.  I took it easy and read a few magazines with my granola, since I haven't had a morning off in a while.  At 7:30 (an unseemly time it would have been a month ago) I walked back to my residence and passed the gardeners hoeing corn in the morning light.  It was irresistible.



After obtaining permission from all, I skipped from row to row photographing them.  Took a stroll around the block. More photos.  Returned.  Set myself to working, stepped outside, and turned right around for my guitar.  I sat by the willow and played all I knew to the perfect breeze, and when I was finally done, flute music wafted in from far away.  "Summertime, and the livin' is easy," it said.  Yet it smells and feels like a gorgeous fall.



Then I followed a woman with a saxophone to meet the flute music down by the dirt road.  Plans were made to sneak up on the gardeners with a dirge and a mock procession.  This morphed quickly into a parade of seven, with red costumes and red flag (and mock battle wounds and signs en francais), in honor of Bastille Day.



Then raw sweet corn and tempeh for lunch.  Yum.