Not a Lonely House

On our country rideabouts I like to discover old houses.  Those that have been kept in good repair or remodeled are appealing and happy, but I also love those that have seemingly been abandoned.  I can imagine stories and people that once inhabited those now bare walls.

I occasionally snap photos of these houses for future reference for stitching or sketching.  

This is actually not abandoned…an old church now used as a community center of sorts…but we’ve visited it with cameras more than once. It’s so serene.

I’m not alone in loving these houses.  On some social media sites, these have recently been called “lonely houses”.  An enchanting phrase that describes the essence of these places.

But there’s one house en route to one of our antiquing hot spots that’s only lonely sometimes.  If we pass by at just the right time of day, this house has visitors.  The four-legged kind.  How fun is it to see these horses eating on the porch.

The horses don’t like to pose in perfect lighting conditions for a photo shoot, but on this day we happened by at feeding time and I got a couple of shots.  

An update on the red hearts on linen…

Since my last post, I’ve abandoned the ‘one-heart-a-day’ plan and have been stitching several down during tv time each night.  Almost all the ones I had pinned in the last photo you saw are now stitched in place.  I’ll probably add more small ones…but it’s nearing completion of the appliqué stage.

Dirt Roads

On our most recent ride about, we found ourselves in Pitts, Ga with cameras in hand to photograph sunflowers and old buildings.  We did that…and bought goodies from Oliver Farm, too.  Sunflower oil, okra flour, brown rice grits were among our purchases.

The sunflowers didn’t disappoint…and the old buildings served as great backdrops for the quilts that went for the ride. 

But it was the dirt that thrilled me. I got right out in the field with the sunflowers.  The blooms were as high as my head and about the size of my head, too.  But the dirt …oh, the dirt!  We were in a county neighboring the one where I grew up.  And the dirt in the coastal plain region is very different from that of the piedmont where we now live. This is the dirt that I used to make mud pies and gopher houses and embed in my skinned knees.

I didn’t have to take off my shoes to know exactly how that dirt would feel between my toes.  Those little rocks of limonite mixed with the sand speak home to me.  Hopscotch, skidding bicycle tires, carving a trail with a stick…all those memories are tied to this dirt.

We succeeded in photographing sunflowers and old buildings, but found other treasures, too. 

In a cypress habitat, we found some other interesting vegetation to shoot, but it was the road that entranced me. That dirt again…oh, and the beehives!

Jim has always said he can feel his blood pressure drop when we visit Turner County.  Well, there’s that; life is slower.  But these dirt roads just feel like Sunday afternoon drives and going to visit relatives.

My Daddy farmed before I came along…so he walked behind a mule in dirt like this.  Barefooted.  Yes.  He plowed without shoes.  I can understand why.  I wanted to take my shoes off and walk out in a field.  I didn’t. But maybe next time….

Oliver Farm has self guided tours where you can read about the old buildings in Pitts, Ga, and find your way to fields of sunflowers in all stages, a cypress habitat, and lots of fresh air.

Indigo Playtime


Bundle of doilies at the flea market: $1

Others acquired at more junk piles later in the day:  total $5

One hour of dipping and rinsing, Maytag at work, some drying on the rack, then this:  Priceless!

Someone, or several someones, had a bunch of doilies and such that they didn’t want.  They might have a tiny hole or a stain or two, but in the donation pile they went.  I brought them home, dumped them on the table, and photographed them.  The first ugly photo above  is the $1 pile.

Another couple of pieces came from another store, the hankie with the hideous yellow lace was $1, a tea towel was $1.  You see those in the second ugly shot.

I had a fresh vat of indigo dye that I had mixed for friends earlier in the week, so I wet the fabrics and began dipping.

The dye appears green and when the fabric is first removed from the vat, it is green.  But, exposed to air, the chemistry magic takes place.  The oxidation process makes the color change to blue right before your eyes.

This photo shows the first few pieces as they oxidize.  The one on the bottom right is freshest from the dye vat, the others have been out in the air from 1 to 5 minutes longer.

One of the beauties of overdying old linens is the reveal on embroidered pieces.  White-on-white embroidery is beautiful in its own way, but, the dye takes it to another level.  This huck cloth pillow sham (an earlier find) is a great example of that.

Damask tablecloths and napkins are amazing, too.  The subtle color changes from the differing directions of thread in the weave is not subtle after dyeing.  This tablecloth (a piece from an earlier dyeing session) also has variations because I left some areas bundled up so less dye reached the fibers and/or less oxidation took place.


And, I thought the two yellowed tea towels I dipped yesterday were plain.  But, no.  Once I hung them up, I saw patterns woven in the fabric.  Amazing!

It’s addictive; this blue magic.  Every stage is exciting.  Seeing the color change.  Seeing what’s left after rinsing (the pale blue trim was dipped three times, but because it’s not a natural fiber – has a lot of polyester in it, I think – it never becomes the deep blue like the others).  Playing with it after it’s dried.  Then planning how to incorporate it into a piece of fiber art.  All stages are fun.  

And, that, for certain, is priceless.


The same mass of textiles, now blue.  Variations in color come from different fiber content of the pieces and the number of times I dipped them.

I’ve written about the process of indigo dyeing before:  several posts, in fact.  You can click on links here and here to see earlier posts…or if you are reading this later than the original post,  type “indigo” in the search box and you’ll find more with photos of finished projects using indigo-dyed pieces.

Miss Nellie’s Country Garden

On a recent Saturday ride-about, we took a big wool quilt in case we saw a spot for photos.  We found a spot at Starr’s Mill, and gave Miss Nellie’s Country Garden some places to pose.

The quilt is my version of a pattern from Lisa Bongean of Primitive Gatherings.  The wool appliqué is stitched by hand onto cotton background fabrics.  The piecing together of the blocks and the quilting are done by machine.  

As I worked on all aspects of this quilt, I thought of my Aunt Nellie.  The wool appliqué – informal and free – and the garden theme led me to know the quilt had to be named for her.

She was known as Miss Nellie to most everyone in the community.  I was lucky enough to know her as Aunt Nellie.  She was a teacher, and so there are some people who knew her as Miss Hobby, too.  She lived next door for my entire childhood, and serves to inspire me every day of my life. 

She lived to the age of 91, and only in her 91st year was she unable to tend her garden.  She grew vegetables to eat, to share, to can, and to freeze.  She grew flowers for the joy of the bloom.

Aunt Nellie’s vegetable garden was neat and orderly, but her flowers were a riot of stems and leaves and blooms.  Weeds were kept at bay in both places, but the separation she maintained in her butterbeans and squash was not valued in her flowerbeds.  The snapdragons and pansies, the petunias and lilies and gladiolas all mingled about, with her snipping a cutting here and poking it in an empty spot there to take root and fill a space.  And, take root they did.  Her green thumb was legendary, possibly due in part by the load of fresh cow manure a local farmer delivered to her every spring.

She grew geraniums in pots, dahlias in a  separate bed all their own.  She had a bit of yard art, too.  I remember a whimsical bird bath, tiers of porcelain basins given to her by a friend.  Once it developed leaks, it was repurposed as a planter for succulents.


So the whimsical nature of some of these quilt blocks is a perfect tribute to a woman from the country.  The label is a block I had made because Miss Jump, one of Linda Brannock’s creations, reminds me of Aunt Nellie.

More quilt details:  The quilt finished at 60” x 75”.  I used a whipstitch to secure the wool to the cotton, usually with perle cotton thread, but sometimes with embroidery floss or even fine sewing thread.  The quilting is all hand-guided freemotion stitching on my home machine.  I used Dream Cotton Request batting and a cotton fabric for the background.  And it was all fun!  Just as Aunt Nellie would have wanted it to be.

Oh, and another detail.  Because the wool is so visually heavy, I made a wider binding than I usually do.  The “standard” 1/4” binding seems so wimpy on a large wool quilt, so I cut the binding 3 1/2”, then folded in half and stitched it to the front of the quilt with a hearty 3/8” seam allowance (or scant 1/2”).  The binding then finishes (with these fabrics) at 1/2”. I used a woven plaid (easy to stitch down by hand) and cut it on the bias.

More about Aunt Nellie:  I’ve written a lot about Aunt Nellie already, if you type “Nellie” in the search box, you’ll find several references to her.  But, she is the older of the two “Spinster Sisters” in this post, where I shared more details of her: https://sandygilreath.com/spinster-sisters/

SlowExposures

When we leave home for one of our Saturday “ride abouts”, we don’t always know where we’ll end up.  Our most recent experience was at a county-wide photography exhibit.  We stopped at one of our favorite bookstores, A Novel Experience, in Zebulon, only to discover it was on this day headquarters for glory.  

Well, glory our way.  SlowExposures, A Juried Exhibition Celebrating Photography of the Rural South, was in full swing in Pike County.  Walking and driving to at least seven sites, we met interesting people, saw interesting photography and other art forms, and came away inspired.

Every person we met was friendly and informative and urged us to visit other artists as well.  So we moved through the day on those recommendations, going from one “pop-up” venue to the next, only to be greeted by more fabulous photography, more unique ideas in presentation, more friendly people.

The photos were images made all over the South.  The photographers were from as far away as Maine, and the exhibit was the 16th of its kind.  How did we not know of this?  Well, we know now!

There was a competitive collection of single images, and there were “pop-ups” all over the county.  A pop-up exhibit was a collection of work from a single photographer or from groups with some common theme.  Subject matter, or technique, or presentation could unite them for this exhibit.

If you think a picture is worth a thousand words, you can’t image the volumes spoken by some of these displays.

A collection documenting the memorabilia left behind by a soldier who ended his own life in 1959 was sobering  The images mounted on black wood, in black frames, finished without a glass barrier, are stark and convey the mood of the project beautifully. (You can see photos of this here. Neither Jim nor I took snapshots of this work, it seemed disrespectful somehow – the display was the powerful.)

A former architect displayed part of an ongoing project to photograph all the azaleas in his home town.  He lives in Nachez, MS, so that’s a lot of azalea blooms.

The settings for the exhibit were likewise intriguing.  The main gallery was housed in an old store building in a small town six miles away from the county seat.  Pop-ups were in commercial and government buildings as well as unique buildings in the community repurposed for this weekend’s treasures.

One artist had the fortune to have his work displayed in a stable.  To take advantage of this  venue, he created amazing large-scale displays to share his Forest re-Framed.  There were dimensional elements, large scale prints with plates of glass in front to vary the distance from the viewer.  There were huge prints on canvas with natural light illuminating the photos.

There were a couple of artists housed in a sharecropper’s cabin.  The exposed structure of the building, painted white, was a perfect backdrop for their works.

Maybe I’m saving the best for the last.  Or maybe just after such a day the anticipation builds so the last thing is the best.  But our final visit was to the Hive, a small building (renamed for these two days) containing four artists who incorporate beeswax into their photo displays.  Each of the four uses different subject matter and processes to make their encaustic work unique, but all were fascinating to this Beekeeper’s Daughter.

I felt a special kinship with Kevin.  Kevin finds vintage photos at flea markets, collages the photos with other objects, and makes up a story about the person in the photo.  Yes, like I did with Margene and Ruth, to name a couple – just makes stuff up!  When I shared that I love to tell stories though my work, too, Kevin and I bonded.  He gave me permission to share a photo of him, of some of his work, and later, he demonstrated his technique with wax.  An earlier photo shows a closeup of one of his collages, but the shot below includes one of the fabulous vintage frames that completes his work.

Inspired, intrigued, amazed, fascinated; all good words to sum up the day.  Another example of retired life with open-ended adventures!  Except for the old geezer who pretended his name was Jim in order to claim our food in a crowded restaurant, the day was fabulous!  Even that situation was quickly remedied by a poised waitress and it gave us another funny store to share for years to come.

Note:  here are links to more of the artists whose work I described:

Sandy Burr

Jo Lynn Still

Houck Medford

Nancy Marshall

Rory Doyle

Remember Me

In our household, we often quote favorite movie lines to convey a big message in a few words.  A bit like a secret language, the power of a select phrase can convey a sense of place, a mood,  or a personality,  and add to the bond of family.

One phrase that’s part of our oft-repeated mantras is “remember me?” spoken in the tone Julia Roberts used in Pretty Woman.  You know the scene when she returns to the uppity sales clerk who had refused to help her.   Laden with packages from another Rodeo Drive shop, she twirls about and smugly displays her loot.  There’s a follow-up line about working on commission and “Big Mistake.”  We quote that sometimes, too.

Several years ago, when I was a member of a mini-group of quilters who called ourselves The Basket Cases, we exchanged blocks to make quilts.  The rules were: make a 9” basket for each other member of the group, in the color specified by each gal; then make your own quilt with the result.  I chose blue (big surprise), as did Mary.  Susan asked for red and pink.  Dale requested pastels, and Angie’s color was terra cotta.


The single basket block you see here is from one set of blocks I made to exchange.  The others I made for them were similar, but with pieced bows at the top, not appliquéd bows like these.  I made some of that type in blue for myself, too.

We made the exchange baskets twice and each assembled her own quilt using whatever setting was desired. I had eight baskets from friends (you can find four pairs of similar baskets in my quilt, each pair from one quilting sister) and four I had made.

I struggled with the various shades of blue and the different levels of contrast until I remembered how I love brown with blue.  This dark brown polka dot seemed to be the perfect fabric to enclose the group of baskets and serve as a border.  

I tried the polka dot as alternate blocks, but the big blocks of color were distracting.  So back to the sewing machine.  I made six 7” basket blocks, framed them with 1” borders of the brown which acted as sashing, and was done.

So it was time for a title.  The brown polka dots reminded me of a dress Julia Roberts wore at the polo match in Pretty Woman.  So, Remember Me was the perfect phrase to convey the movie connection and the spirit of the exchange blocks with the Basket Cases.

The photos of the quilt were made on an outing to Auchumpkee Creek.  Jim made some photos, I made others.


In this photo, you see the back of the quilt with a tree’s shadow on it.  As I often do, I pieced the backing with several blue fabrics.

I did not do the quilting on this one.  My friend and longarm expert, Kathy Darley, did a great job putting the layers together.

Margene’s Tablecloth

Margene was a master seamstress.  She made clothing for herself and her daughters.  She made a shirt for her husband once, but decided they could afford to buy men’s clothing.  So the husband and son wore all store-bought clothes.

Margene made her kitchen curtains, recovered chair cushions, pieced worn out clothing into quilts.  Most of this stitching, like the girls’ dresses, was done on the sewing machine.  It was faster, more efficient for the necessities of life, but Margene needed handwork to keep her busy after the supper dishes were done.

She did a little knitting and crocheting, but her real love was pulling a threaded needle through cloth.  That rhythm soothed her soul.  Embroidery met this need.  She could buy a transfer kit with a design on it, iron that ink onto her own fabric, and stitch away.  Or she could even buy a design already stamped on table linens or dish towels and get right to business.  The local five-and-dime sold cotton embroidery floss by the bushel, and even had some of the designs she liked.

This tablecloth was one Margene started, but never finished.  She was in the midst of it when she got the news that her son was killed in a car accident.  She tried, but could never bring herself to thread the needle for that project again.  After a long while, she did do other embroidery projects, but every time she picked this one up, her hands trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.  If she couldn’t see the design, how could she stitch it?

All the above is imaginative.  I don’t know anything about this project except I bought the unfinished tablecloth after looking at it in a favorite antique mall booth for months, maybe years.  At $17, it’s beyond what I normally spend on linens to cut apart and reuse, but the soft colors, the nice stitching, the possibilities, kept beckoning to me.

Here is the tag the vendor included with the piece.  Her linens are clean and pressed, and packaged to stay that way while on display.  I could see through the cellophane that there were traces of the stamped design that had not yet been stitched.  I could read between the lines of the tag that the vendor thought someone would buy the piece and finish the embroidery. 

I could do that.  I would enjoy doing that.  I might actually do that.  But it’s likely that I will include it in a quilt project with the design left as “Margene” stopped.  An open-ended story – so many possibilities.

The portrait is a discarded photo I found in a bin at another store.  I thought this lady had a story or two to tell.  Turns out, she had a tablecloth.

Since I’m sharing this again in honor of International Women’s Day, if you are a new reader, you might want to read about some of the real women who’ve influenced me:

Spinster Sisters is the story of two of my ancestors whose stories impacted my life from the day of my birth.

Quilting Sisters introduces you to two women who still influence me today. A site search for “Joyce” or “Hilda” will yield more stories of these women.

The Story Shop

This is not a post about a quilt.  This is a post about magic, or at least a magical place for kids of all ages. 

 C. S. Lewis would be proud.  The glint in this boy’s eye says it all.  When you go, look in the wardrobe  – you won’t be disappointed.

This shop is on a downtown street in Monroe, Ga.  We go there frequently to visit family, to shop at some great antique malls, and to eat delicious food at local restaurants.

As we drove through downtown on recent trips, this storefront beckoned me.  It seemed to be a children’s shop of some sort, but until I entered, I had no idea what to expect.

There are books, book, more books, and nooks to read them in. 

There’s a yellow brick road, murals to delight children and adults around every corner.

I paused in my giggling with delight to get permission to take photos and write about this haven.  Do click on the images to enlarge them so you can appreciate the detail in the decor.

I learned that The Story Shop has been open for about two years and is as wildly popular as you would expect.  The owner and designer has created a delightful destination for kids of all ages.  


Groups are welcomed and school groups can come to presentation geared to their age groups.  Teachers will love that the programs are correlated to the state curriculum standards.  What a wonderful place to learn more about your favorite wonderland.

There’s a room for parties and gatherings.  And a bit of non-bound merchandise can be found, too.  

Just seeing the graphics on this tote bag brings happy memories of libraries and bookstores from my early reading life.  Imagine the memories made by youngsters who have the privilege of visiting this wonderland!  

How many favorite books from your childhood did you identify from the photos?

 

Satterfield’s Farewell

We bid farewell to a good friend today.  A favorite restaurant is closing this week, so we ate one last lunch there.  There are other restaurants in town where boiled peanuts are served as an appetizer, where waitresses are friendly, and where the food is good.  But we will miss Satterfield’s.

This is a place where we’ve taken several out-of-town visitors to experience good southern food and atmosphere.  It’s a spot where we’ve happily bumped into friends and enjoyed an impromptu reunion.  We treasure the memories of conversations on the porch, meals in the sunken dining area, and the delight on the waitress’s face when our grandson ate everything he had ordered – and it was a lot!  We even had our favorite parking spot.

Many final experiences are enjoyed without knowing it’s the last time you’ll be there doing that.  In this case, the owner announced a few weeks ago that the restaurant will be closing.  Happily, he’s just slowing down, not stopping.  So some recipes and menu items will live on at another restaurant in town, but we will miss Satterfield’s.

One of my first thoughts when I read about the plans was, “where will that guy eat?”  ‘That guy’ being a regular customer.  He’s been there every time we’ve been for lunch, sitting at the same table.  I wrote about him here.  So, today I asked our waitress about him.  She said he was wondering the same thing.

We are certainly not the only ones feeling the melancholy today.  One waitress said, “it’s hitting me now.  I’ve been in denial for three weeks, but today it seems real.”  Other customers were ordering everything on the menu, to taste it all one last time.  Some were taking selfies with their favorite waitress.  One woman was there alone, her husband’s poor health having kept her away in recent months.  But she had made special arrangements today to come have lunch.  The staff pampered her with extra attention. 

That’s the biggest thing we will miss.  The love that was served with the food.

A Sewist Died


While touring a favorite antique mall of ours, I saw a booth with a new basket of sewing goodies.  Patterns, thread, buttons, were all gathered together for my plunder.  There were handmade wooden buttons and needlebooks distributed as advertising media, too.

This booth’s owner must have gone to an estate sale where the remains of a sewing stash were discarded.  The old wooden spools with their richly colored threads are still beautiful and the vendor must have enjoyed corralling them artfully in jars and vases.  As I studied the bits of an unknown woman’s history, I thought of the line I’ve recently seen, “our children don’t want our stuff.”  That headline advises us to clean out, get rid of that stuff (the jars and vases included), so our children won’t have to.

Now, I don’t want my children to have a burden to clean out my stuff, but I don’t want to get rid of it now!  I’m loving my stuff, just as Ester, or Mildred, or whatever this woman’s name was, loved hers.  She bought those patterns and planned clothes for her and her children and grandchildren.  She selected the threads and buttons to make those dreams a reality.  And the leftover pieces are now there for me and others to cherish, repurpose, or just see and remember her pleasure.

I still have bits of my mother’s and my mother-in-law’s sewing treasures.  I use some of them every day.  Others, I just enjoy their presence as I sew.  And, though I didn’t buy all of Mildred’s stuff today, someone will.  And, Mildred’s selections will become part of another stitched work of love.

Often when I buy these fabric treasures, the clerk at the counter will ask what I’m going to do with them.  It seems everyone loves them but, “no one knows what to do with them.”  When I explain about my art, sometimes showing them a photo, I get mixed reactions.  Some say, “oh, no, you’re going to cut it up?!!”  Others say, “That’s good.  It will continue to live on.”  That’s my hope.

Note:  I know “sewist” looks awkward in print.  The first image that comes to mind when you read “sewer” is not of a person pulling needle and thread through fabric, now is it?  Right.  So, I embrace the word sewist.