There is a call from the back door...

'Maw - I'm going out back with my bucket and tractor.....'

'Alright, you darling boy. Don't be late for lunch.'

This is a literary contrivance - he never tells me where he's going, or calls me Maw - and I have never before this called him 'my darling boy" unless the moment was much more passionate than this exchange.

Nevertheless, in due time the bucket swings and there are tractor noises from the nether regions of the yard.

Inside the house cookies get made and the music of Gottschalk swells and diminishes in graceful trills and arpeggios.

Eventually it is time for lunch....



"Is it really that time already???? " (he has never had a good sense of time, and now, at this late date, he has broken his watch strap and so has a perfectly good reason for 'never knowing what time it is..')
"I will just be a few moments" (translation, - give me half an hour or so).

Is that a fourth finger salute? If so, what does it mean? Did he get his fingers mixed up, or is he really pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose? And is he smirking???

Life's little mysteries, - best ignored....

But there, when all is said and done, Husband and his tractor are priceless and non-expendable.

My Summer Project

Occasionally the idea of doing something creative will be charged by seeing a photo, talking to someone about a new way of doing things or reading about innovative projects. A small germ of interest soon grows into a full blown desire to jump right in and start creating...

Not so with this summer's activity, - the germ has been around for a long time. Ten years at least since I started collecting beautiful jewel coloured silk shirts with the idea of using them in some splendidly sensuous recycling adventure.

I bought them at the Bargain Centre, - people saved them for me, - I would receive small parcels of beautiful silken garments (silk shorts for men, fancy blouses and shirts, the odd skirt or pair of trousers.) I treasured them all, and here is part of the magnificent stash I have accumulated.


In the last few years it has grown increasingly embarrassing when friends inquire about the status of the silken stash, and I have to admit that although it is growing, the time is just not right to commence the weaving process. Research, - oh yes. Lots of dreams and nebulous plans, but no action as of now.

As Mary Todd Lincoln has been quoted, "my evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry til a more convenient season"

On the other hand, Mark Twain (ever wise and practical) has said "twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the Trade Wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

It was the 'twenty years' that brought me up short. Twenty years from now I expect that weaving up a great stash of silk ribbons will be far beyond me, and if they are not to be an eternal embarrassment to me it is high time I quit dreaming and "wove the straw into gold" to paraphrase Rumpelstiltskin.

First, of course, there is the Research. A dangerous delight in itself. It can so easily turn into a project all on its own.

I have some lovely ideas. Bags, small rugs, cushion covers, some twice woven silk chenille, finely woven coverlets, or vests....the list is endless, but the details have not yet taken form.

I find a picture of a lovely silk durry and upon examination I envision the width of the silken ribbons I must cut from these slippery silk garments... It inspires me to the point where I am not discouraged about the task, and am moved to go and find the cloth pad and cutter which my sister once gave me (somehow foreseeing this special need for it...)

If you stick around or drop in occasionally I will let you know how goes the battle between Inspiration and Procrastination. What better time to face the foe and end up with some gorgeous Christmas gifts and a quiet conscience.