great aunt

I fondly remember my Great Aunt Ida.

She had a way of being kind and accepting that a little girl understood. I have a distinct memory of feeling glad and important those few times we visited.

Missouri was awfully far away back then.

I adore this keepsake of my Aunt Ida and Grandma Golda

My grandma planned to piece quilts for each of her grandchildren and she went at it with all her heart and her tenacious skill of using tiny scraps. However, a paralyzing stroke made it impossible for her to finish the last two. So, when boxes of pieced squares were found in her cupboard, it was Aunt Ida who set out to finish them for the youngest grandchildren in the family. Her quilting was just as fine as grandmas.

My grandma quilt; finished by Aunt Ida

I'm a Great Aunt six times over!  I'm not sure if I always believe it. We've only ever met by cards and occasional pictures. In some ways, distance is still as hard to cross. But when the newest mama dropped some hints that she'd like something sewn by Zinnia Girl, I felt honored and warm and a little like my Great Aunt Ida.  

My REAL baby-doll creation...now in South Carolina.
 Reversible, open-back sundress and ruffled diaper cover!  
(I found this sweet pattern at TieDyeDiva.)
I hope it fits the new-born!
 

Blessings,
                   Zinnia Girl!

p.s.  Do you still have a great aunt?
send her a card, k?

last weekend

    We had a lovely visit with a handful of my family. Jobs kept some from making the trek...our backyard bubble blowers all grown up....but we loved every moment with the ones who were here.




When teenagers can drive.....       
                   

And trains are an hour late....

And self-taught uncle jams with self-taught niece....

then my heart is filled with gratitude;
so much blessing of family.

train

whistle stop station
tucked at the bottom of the ridge
hear the train
long before it's seen
westbound 
slow curve; eager watching
east bound; swift bend
gone
gone too quickly                                                      
gone like the days together
like years
and life
disappear
a few hot tears
memories linger; sweet
trains can't take them
away

sisters 

sweet find

"Oh, how dear!" I cried, as I stood in the thrift shop aisle. I wanted to take her home with me the minute I saw her!  I did hesitate for a few supposedly responsible moments. After all, I am supposed to be simplifying. But she obviously wasn't a mass made factory piece and 80 cents was a reasonable splurge and thrifting with my sister is always a treat..."Stick her in a plant," she urged.

Such a lovely little thing to cheer me at my kitchen sink!

On closer inspection I found the maker's mark: G.R

Of course I had to google that...

As it turns out, there was  a certain Gino Ruggeri from

 20th century Italy who created hand carved statues from his signature mix of resin and alabaster!

No wonder she's so special!

ambition

Between fire calls, Blaze thrives on training.
She was excited to join a neighboring Company for 
some special training they hosted last Saturday.
Especially since their Chief is a woman.
"Don't let those boys push you around," she tells Blaze.
I love that woman!
She's also the only person who turns the camera on my daughter.
That girl of ours is on the backside of hundreds--hundreds--of fire company photos. She's going to be a legacy of documentation.
She already is.

That black bag hanging on her neck? Only an extension of her arm:
her beloved camera.
photo by Chief Di


This week, Blaze is a basketball huddle coach for Mega Sports Day Camp, hosted by our church. She had been shooting hoops at home-- ya'know to freshen up her skills-- maybe catch the kids attention with a sweet swish...
She was assigned six rowdy boys--the 8-10 year olds--
the moment they huddled, one kid exclaimed, 

"Hey! I know you! You are a firefighter."


Forget the basketball, girlie, the
impression has been made!

The nicest way to raise peas

Make friends with an Amish truck farmer
  who calls you after he has
picked a back breaking bushel of peas--
  that he planted
hoed and weeded 
  chased out bunnies
irrigated 
  fought off bugs and birds 
fertilized 
  staked and tied




All that's left for us to do is my favorite part.
Sit on the porch and shell them.
  Let the talk fly
and the silliness
 and a couple of naughty pea-shells.
Every family should have the chance
to sit on a hot summer evening
and bond over a bushel of peas.


Enjoy your day!
 Zinnia Girl!


p.s . Mr Tucker is wild over peas! He will steal them from the bucket. He will risk his life to dodge under the rocking chair for any that drop. When we raised peas in our little garden patch, we wondered why the plants at the edge of the garden never gave any pods...that is, until we caught our dog in the act of picking his own snack!

MAY: Main Street Allsorts

photo by Blaze

Splendid Spring.      Perfect weekend at the cabin. 

     Posing for background and lighting check. 

Violet; sweet soul. 

Only my favorite porch decor year round; Mr. Tucker. 

The girls hit Leg II of their Standing Stone Trail venture. 

Memorial Day proud.  

Dissecting! The heart has it.  Mother's Day gift;  I love it!

Another month comes to a close on Main Street.

      I've been in such a funk of exhaustion and depression, I really haven't been myself lately.

      In fact, when it came to preparing a graduation gift (for a party tonight), I didn't feel one bit inspired. I forced myself to sit at the sewing machine. (Which I declared hotly that I hated yesterday--and immediately apologized to.  Look, if you sew as much as I do, it's easy to believe the machine is actually a domesticated beast with at least a small measure of feelings!)

     It felt so good to create something just for the pleasure of it. No worries over fit or style or trying to sell it. Just making a cute little rug to go with this gorgeous mug. And playing with some of my favorite things.  (I adore ric-rac, and fabric in lovely scraps and vintage lace! )

Such a happy feeling, making things.

Mug from  Ruthie's Pottery; our local treasure.

      I've been rethinking my little home business. I've taken a pause, plunged into spring cleaning (the pull-out-the-fridge kind.) And there's plenty of think time when one cleans!  That is, trying to think;  my mind is in tangles. After all, I have spent the last three years developing a look, a line--a brand--more or less. But like it? I feel frustrated and restless. Unsure how to grow, how to move ahead, wondering which competing idea should get a chance.  I feel like coffee's perking in my brain and all I'm getting is a tantalizing whiff.

     Tonight gave me one clear solution. 

     I have to create. Make things with my hands. 

     (How could I possibly need reminded?)

     It's more then my job. 

     Perhaps the stirring ideas will yet to come to life. I will try.

     And, more often, I'll let myself play with scraps of lace and fabric--

             just for the love of it.

Blessings, 

      Zinnia Girl!