"Over" View

Here's the view from one of our bedrooms.
The neighbor's empty pool full of leaves
announces an official "summer's over."

The leaves on the deck always seem to
fall and blow all over in a strange mix of random
and pattern. Can you see the hourglass shape
of the fallen leaves, starting under the table?

The tallest towering trees with messy
bird nests make me yearn to be able
to fly over everything I can see (and not
have to pick up unless it's edible or
usable).

Sadly, the view I had ten days
ago when I took these pictures...is over.
Goodbye, fall. I love you. See you next
year, Lord willing.

Describing Skies and Trees

In less than thirty minutes last Sunday, the skies here changed texture and color dramatically. I just sat in the car staring out the windshield, saying, "Wow, God. Wow!"


Puffy
Patchy
Painted
Periwinkle
Partner
of
Proliferous
Pines


became...

Smoky
Salmon
Silky
Skies

Showing off

Silhouetted
Spruces

Postponing the Autumn Tour of Homes Here

Because of health issues, I'm not able to be present at my own Home Tour, so to speak. The garden is half-weeded, the mums not bought, the curtains not hung, the pillows not made. I am seeing doctors to get some questions answered. I'll be back in commission as soon as I can.

But if YOU have pictures to show, please let me know in the comment box. I'd love to see your stomping ground all gussied up for fall.

Not of Colonial Cloth

This morning a bunch of us from our homeschool co-op went on a field trip to Jerusalem Mill
for the kick-off of their Colonial Craftsmen Weekend. (Pictures coming soon.) Watching all that manual labor going on under these sunny skies sure inspired me to come home and put my hand to the plow also. (Well, okay, so it was not exactly a plow. I had no horses, so I took the easy way out and grabbed a hoe.) I also made up a little song about my hoe.

"I'm just a little hoe,
Everywhere I go..."--

Never mind. They don't pay me enough to write songs that good.

The colonial mama could easily work from pre-dawn to after dusk. Not so this mama. I am not the sheep-shearing, fire-stoking, butter-churning type. But it's fun to appreciate the hard work of my forebears.

My back was aching all day, and so I thought that stretching and bending forward to eradicate my weed patch would help. Wrong. It just made me sweaty. But I am only a third of the way finished and need to clean up the mess I've made thus far because I am getting ready for Monday's Autumn Tour of Homes. Once I've done the hard work of weeding, trimming, and pruning, I will go out and treat myself to some new fall mums.

And perhaps I'll use the gold and purple petals of mums to dye some wool to make some cloth for my sofa which my man made by cutting down a tree and tanning some cowhides and nailing them together from iron he forged in the fire stoked by the eldest son who is courting a gal from a northern colony....

Or maybe I'll just darn some folded socks. Or fold some darn socks. I always get that mixed up.

Finally Accepting Fall

Normally by the end of August I am ready for fall. This year, however, I dragged my seasonal feet, kicking and screaming that summer was over. Part of it was that I just love the pace of summer. Part of it was that I had to embrace a change of schooling that I had mixed feelings about. Part of it was that so many of these recent Maryland days and nights have felt warm enough to be called summery.

But now I think I've finally come to terms with the change of season. Don't get me wrong--this is my favorite season. That fact alone made me wonder why I was so reluctant to jump into the proverbial leaf pile with both feet. Guess I've just been in a funk .

Today I will take the first step toward acknowledging that Autumn is Here. Even though it's hot and humid out, and I see no changing leaf colors, I will stop by a local greenery for some mums. I might even purchase the stuff to make a wreath for my front door. I have no fall decorations left since I purged all my countrified stuff this past summer. Perhaps I'll hang my fall/winter valance back up at the naked sliding glass window. It's a rite of passage for curtains, after all.

Best of all, I will get a new 'do today. Or at least a shape-up of my last 'do, and my eyebrows waxed, both of which always put a spring in my step (and, I hope, not a "fall").

Truly it must be fall because I had my first hankering for oatmeal this morning. I went to make Briana's Baked Apple Oatmeal, but when I opened what I thought was a new canister of oats,
lo and behold, it was birdseed. I had totally forgotten I'd stored it there, so kept telling Paul and Sarah, "Whatever you do, don't buy oatmeal . I have a whole new container of it in the garage!"

So I made a Sock-it-to-Me cake instead. And later this evening I will make Provencal Soup for our ladies' soup-and-salad dinner tomorrow night. Just in case I get called in for jury duty tomorrow, I will have it ready to go when I get back.

{{Hugs}} to fall. Finally!

Autumn Tour of Homes: Oct 11th

Hey, fellow homemaking bloggers! How's about we do another tour of homes, this time for fall? It also gives me added incentive to have a date on the calendar and turn good intentions (ie decorating, cleaning, purging, weeding, whatever it takes for a good photo shoot) into reality.

So, since my family usually gets pumpkins by the second weekend in October, I am going to slate Monday, October 11th, for my virtual Autumn Tour of Homes. I've enjoyed doing this for Christmas and summer; looking forward to making an official date to post a tour for autumn.

If you'd like to join, chime in with a comment here and let us know to be watching your blog for coming attractions! Light those candles, bake those pies, hang those wreaths, or arrange those pumpkins...whatever you do to usher in fall.

Can't wait to have company in this venture!

Phenomenon

Tell me if this happens to you.

You get violently ill at 1:30 a.m. After that you sleep for only six hours, and you wake up feeling like cleaning. Not the bathroom, but the living room, as if the proverbial mother-in-law has just announced she'll be here in two days. But you don't have a mother-in-law, you just have a lot of clutter to deal with. You have 38 library books due on various days, can't see through the windows clearly, and have the urge to rearrange your pretty things and get rid of all the things that don't bring you up.

You are easily distracted, but not as bad as you were 10 years ago, so you realize you've grown. In a good way. For a change. The Windex does wonders for the windows. Guess that's its purpose. The sky is a vivid blue. Azure. "Azure cleaning the windows," you wonder if there's a scientific reason the sky is bluer, or if it's just that the golden trees against it makes such a brilliant contrast. At any rate, you find you love the word blue as much as the color.

And yet, the blue feelings, though slightly less vivid than they were yesterday, are still with you.

It happens every year at this time. I find myself realizing I have so many blessings, yet I feel blue, and I don't want to celebrate anything. As cathartic as it is to give thanks, it doesn't mean you don't still feel a little sick.

Daybook Post Tonight, 10.17.09

My Simple Woman's Daybook entry, AKA my Saturday evening post.

Outside my window...
it's raining, cold, and dark.

I am thinking...
about how much I appreciate the way my children befriend people. Ben invited guy from UB (Univ. of Balt) over to study this afternoon. The guy had a minor but scary car accident on the way here. He's fine now, and I invited him to stay for dinner. He said "yes" and seemed to enjoy the steak and potatoes. He is a very polite young man.

I am thankful for...
my warm home.

From the kitchen...
lingers the aroma of garlic and fresh baked bread.

I am wearing...
purple sweatpants and a purple Polo. It's my best impression of Barney.

I am creating...
less cluttered space. Today I tackled the biggest eyesore of them all--the bookcase in my kitchen. After all that bending, stretching, and cleaning, "I sore!" but happy in this feeling of serenity and accomplishment.

I am going...
to apply a heating pad to my achey-breaky back.

I am reading...
too many Facebook posts. I knew I'd be a sucker for that social network.

I am hoping...
to get my sister and mom to help me throw a party for my dad's 75th birthday next month.

I am hearing...
from the Lord that I need to open my eyes to the needs of others more often.

Around the house...
are myriad candles burning. Vanilla in the bathroom, snickerdoodle in the kitchen. I guess two doesn't constitute a myriad, huh?

One of my favorite things...
is having impromptu dinner guests like we did tonight.

A few plans for the rest of the week...
Do I have to answer that? I'm all planned out, thank you very much.


A picture thought I am sharing... This is a picture I took last year in late October through my bedroom window. It's a scene I look forward to waking up to again in a couple of weeks.

Spittin' Images

Yesterday our care group had a fall party at Karen and Ronan's place. What a blast. You'd never guess we possess any couth in a normal setting. Must be something about the country air of Jarrettsville that brings out the hick in all of us.

First we had a dangling doughnut game. Mitzy tied a long piece of string to a doughnut and tied the other end of a string to a stick. Think fishing pole with an oversized glazed cheerio as "bait." The "fish" had to put hands behind his back while the fisherman dangled the doughnut slightly above, below, or beside the "fish. " Every time it hits the face, gooey, sticky glaze sticks to the "fish's" nose. Ew! Or he licks it so many times in an attmept to bite it that it's lathered with drool. (If you're not totally grossed out yet, read on.) The teasing and torment for one taste of this treat was too tempting for toddlers. They ended up grabbing it off the string. They're not dumb.

Next we had a pumpkin slingshot game. Picture a 3-foot wide bungee cord with handles and halfway between the handles a nylon "cradle" the size of an adult sock. Picture also sticking a fist-sized pumpkin into it while two grown men hold the opposing handles. The "shooter" guy (or gal) would load the pumpkin into the slingshot, pull way, way down on the "cradle" to get a good arc on the "bullet" and release! A couple seconds later? Splat! Hit a tree. Good shot! The real trick was keeping the toddlers from becoming targets.

I took sunflower seeds and hosted a spitting contest. I told the kids to take a seed, suck the salt off it, stand like so, keep lips close together/tongue behind seed--then SPIT! Far as you can! The boys (ages 2-47) thought this contest a speck of glory. Then the womenfolk--boasting narry a shred of femininity, grace, or class--showed them how to really make the ole sunflower seed go the distance. If only I'd had my camera. But thankfully, others did, so I asked them to take some spittin' images. (Karen, if you have photos, please upload. We've got to show off our salivary talents in cyberspace.)

Ronan and Karen came up with a scavenger hunt and treasure chest of candy for the kids. Mitzy handed out caramel apples. All of us brought dessert in addition to other munchies. (Can you say sugar high?)

We can hardly wait to go back next year. Karen's wondering what a veritable size pumpkin patch and sunflower garden might grow in the meantime. Call us the care group that really knows how to plant seeds.

We ain't too shabby at spittin' and slingin' 'em either.

Beautiful Description of the Church

My eloquent friend, Amy, wrote this gorgeous post today. She was inspired first by one majestic, brilliantly blazing autumn tree, and then by one simple leaf she plucked from it. Do yourself a favor and hop over to Lavendar Sparkles to see this thing of beauty--her post.

Longing for Home

The fall of the year is my favorite season. Glorious leaves of scarlet and gold, the smell of neighboring fireplaces, the clean crispness in the air--it's all so wonderful. I can't get enough of it.

Ironically, those very feelings fill me with longing for heaven. To see God whose glory can't be compared to the most jaw-dropping beauty of a New England landscape. To come face-t0-face with the Fire and the Cloud who led my ancestors into the Promised Land. To know the clean crispness of a life without sin or pending death. What more could I long for?

If I could pick a season in which to die, it would be the fall. Not that I'm feeling morbid or entertaining any depressing thoughts. I'm not. I would just like to be buried under a maple tree with one cloud in the sky to remind everyone of my Cloud. And if my death were to cause anyone much sorrow (hard to believe) and feel like a cloud is hanging over them, I would call from the grave, "A Cloud does hang over you. But He is not a dark cloud. He is your Comforter. Rejoice in Him. He led His people through the wilderness for 40 years. He'll lead you through this. Walk on."

Mo and Tabletop Happiness

You met Flo in an earlier post. This is Flo's cousin Mo. When Sarah brought the two of them home, I had a hard time choosing which one would sit on the wreath, and which would sit in the little wicker chair next to the front door. So starting with the girl, I did the ole "Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo." Mo told me he's too manly to
sit in a ring of flowers anyway. He'd rather sprawl like a redneck in the chair with a cheekful of chew, but I said, "If you're gonna live at our house, you gotta live by our rules. Lose the chew."

Rather than go back to Michael's, he kicked his habit. Normally, they say, it takes 21 days to lose an old habit or form a new one. I'm so proud of him; he went cold turkey.

He hasn't given us any trouble yet, nor has Flo. If they do, I can beat the stuffing out of them.


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With scissors in hand, I chose petals and posies,
Made an arrangement, a new Zo Z's Cozies.
They're all from my yard, except for the fern,
In a rustic, retro teapot I picked up in Abingdern.

Tall zinnia on the left, petunias dressed in white,
Short mums in the front, butterfly bush for height.
Leaves of flowering plum I kept upon their twigs,
Such joy that I have harvested long after springtime digs!

Flo

Here's the wreath I just finished making. Sarah brought home the cutest little scarecrows for about 3 bucks each, one boy, one girl. I chose the girl and named her Flo. She directs the "flow" of traffic cheerfully in and out of the front door.

The elements were all ones I had leftover from my Zo Z's Cozies projects from last fall except for a few little gourds Sarah brought home with Flo.

Stay tuned. I'll have Mo to show.

Bountiful Harvest Wreath

I made this one for my friend Barb. It's called Bountiful Harvest. She has hung it in her dining room.

May I Make A Wreath for You?

• Dear Friends,
  
  Whether the Lord sends Sarah, me, Sacha, or any combination thereof to Russia (or wherever) next summer, I am starting to raise funds now, in faith. The application alone is $750 per person.
  
  I plan to make several wreaths between now and Christmas. Rather than set a price, I will be asking individuals who want them to make a contribution to our trip fund. The donation amount is up to you.
  
  Available before Thanksgiving. For indoor or outdoor use. (I recommend that wreaths for outdoors be sheltered.)
  
  Perfect for the hostess:
  
  12" wreath: Bountiful Harvest has pumpkins, pinecones, small gourds, fruit, a quail and a big rust bow, on a scrappy nest of natural colored raffia.
  
  OR
  
  12" wreath: Fresh Linen and Cinnamon. I created this one for my powder room. This wreath features several strips of linen-scented bark, cinnamon sticks, cinnamon-scented pinecones, sage green leaves, and ivory shells. (Every time Sarah is in our foyer, she says, "Oh, that smells so good!" ) This wreath would accent a shabby chic, traditional, or modern bathroom, bedroom, or laundry room very well.
  
  My wreaths come with an attached sawtooth metal fixture for hanging on the wall. If you want a brushed brass-like door hanger, I can supply that for an additional $5. They look good with all styles of decor.
  
  

If you prefer a wreath for Christmas, I can do that for you. Just leave a comment saying what you'd like and how I can best reach you.

May I make a wreath for you?

Fleeting

On Wednesday afternoon this tree in my front yard was beautiful. It had only lost about half its leaves. The rest were a splendid tapestry of golds and rusts. I asked Stephen to take a picture of me in front of that tree . (I was sporting a fresh-from-the-salon hairstyle which nobody has noticed, apparently, but that's not the point.) I knew my hair wouldn't look as good the next day , mostly because it had enough gel in it to withstand a Kansas tornado.

Stephen put up a bit of a fuss. ("Puh-lease, Mom. Why?)

"Honey, please," I begged. "These leaves might not be here tomorrow. And my hairdo definitely won't be. " He shook his head.

I was right.

Today, Sunday, nearly every leaf of that tree is gone. The leaves lasted a couple days longer than my hairdo, but they are both fleeting.

"Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom."

This verse came to my mind. I had read it a few days earlier--differently. Always before, I had sort of skipped over the first two words.

Teach us.

God has numbered your days. He's numbered mine. The key question I've always dwelled on is, How many days have I been given? Or, more simply, When will I die?

God is probably not going to answer that question. He will just call me home. I may or may not be caught by surprise when He does. I am not scared of that. I look forward to it, provided I don't have to suffer a long time while I wait for His call. The most important thing is to not forget that I am here for Him, for a brief and glorious interlude between birth and physical death. My life is as fleeting as one autumn leaf on a single tree.

It's the two words "teach us" that gave me pause . Teach us. I read "us" as "me" and realized that I need God to teach me to number my days. What does that mean? I have some thoughts. What are yours?

A Field Trip--Literally (Part 1)

Our homeschool group took a literal field trip to Brad's Produce, a local farm with pumpkins galore, fresh apples and other edibles , an a-maze-ing maze, and an array of eye-popping mums in full bloom.


Joel sat on the really big pumpkin in the produce pavilion. He couldn't pick it up (it was probably 200 pounds) but said, "Ben could if he was here. He's frong."




Joel and his buddy Caleb Z--
Would you believe these smiling friends had just finished arguing about who got to be in the pumpkin for the picture?









Dana & Daughter Ally on the hayride.
Little kids were tossing straw around which was all very cute and funny --till a handful went right down into my shirt. Then it was hysterical (for everyone but one). I still itch.





Ellen and Lydia

Ellen's husband is deployed.
Some argue Ellen has the tougher job. Not more dangerous, but at least as adventurous.
















Hmmm, which one should I choose?