Monday Moment: Rest

In repentance and rest is your salvation,
    in quietness and trust is your strength...

-Isaiah 30:14

I'm working on a quilt for one of the guest rooms- a quilt of skinny scraps of yellows, blues and greens. It's light and cool and reminds me of summer in the country. At first, I had a mind to tie it, and started pulling blue yarn through all the layers. Then I stopped and began pulling it all out. I dislike tied quilts, so I decided to put in the effort to machine quilt it. Going all out on this one! Can't wait until it's finished.

The word "rest" has been showing up in my devotionals and conversations and music. A lot. Rest. It sounds unattainable. Archaic, even. Who rests anymore? The coolest people are the busiest. Resting is for the lazy and unambitious, right? But the more I read, the more I see God calling out to us to... rest. Not be apathetic or neglectful, just to quit striving. Rest. 

It's my heart's desire to see this house become a place of quietness and rest. A refuge house, even. I think about it all the time. I'm looking for ways to introduce that atmosphere into this place.

Do you have any ideas? I think I'm going to compile a list. What, to you, says quietness and rest?

We should discuss....

Thoughts and Hands

My thoughts are on Thanksgiving- family, hymns, a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, the turkey, blessings, and pies. But my hands are a whole other story. 

My hands are on Christmas.

I'm making ornaments for the nieces. Knitted things for friends and relatives. Crafts for loved ones....
 

...And a small Christmas quilt for us. I pieced it while still at Freeman House but never got around to finishing it. Don't you think it's time?

I love November.

 

...How much piecing a quilt's like living a life...

The Lord sends us the pieces, but we can cut 'em out

 and put 'em together pretty much to suit ourselves...

-Eliza Calvert Hall, Aunt Jane of Kentucky

I started piecing this quilt four years ago, I think. I needed some bright spots, some lightness to my life. Some sunshine. Some open spaces.

Think I'll finish it these next two weeks. I think I'll sit under that apple tree in the sunshine and stitch the layers together. And I think I'll attach a special tag on the back with the above quote stitched to it.

There's so much on my heart this week. So much I want to say. But something isn't quite right so I delete it all and wander back to my basket of half-realized quilt.

Here's to pieces and the hope that they will one day come together...

. . . . .

Oh yes. If you're not familiar with Project Gutenberg, you might want to be. Digital copies of thousands of ebooks and manuals- free for the greedy taking.

Perfect Pool and Pattern

Photo credit: Anna Maria Horner

This afternoon is gorgeous. Perfect, even. Sunshine and fluffy clouds and spring breeze perfect. Millie and I are sitting by the open door some 15 feet away from the rippling hotel pool. I adore watching the light-and-water dances in pools. Mesmerizing, like fire.

Have you seen Anna Maria's new dress pattern? As soon as I find a second I'm ordering this pattern... ordering this material... and not getting up from the sewing machine until I have this dress. I want to paint my toenails pink and call a friend and sip on a glass of lavender lemonade and sit by the pool in this dress.

This weekend. (Maybe this weekend.) It's on.

P.S. If you're an Agatha Raisin mystery fan, I have five of my M.C. Beaton books up for auction to help benefit To Write Love On Her Arms. Check them out here.)

In Anticipation of Picnics

While browsing the discount fabric at Hobby Lobby yesterday, I came across this pieced yardage of red and white gingham, cheerful plaid, field flowers. This would make the perfect picnic blanket, I thought as I bought almost four yards.

So last night I began pinning, cutting, and sewing in anticipation of longer days and warmer evenings. I climbed into bed thinking of walking down the pine needle path to the old boat rental shed at the state park. I saw the rainbow-colored sodas in glass bottles... boat paddles hanging from rusted hooks... fishing lures jumbled behind smudged glass. I heard water lapping against bobbing canoes... laughter... the crackle of campfires. I felt cool grass under my feet and warm sun on my back. And suddenly I was asleep....

It was undoubtedly the best rest I've had in weeks.

Here's to picnic lunches before we know it. -Brin

At Christmas play and make good cheer,

for Christmas comes but once a year.

-Thomas Tusser

Tiny sweaters, stiched from felt scraps and embellished with thread, buttons, scrap fabric yo-yos, and string. Could anything be more simple, inexpensive, and of good cheer?


I got the idea from Sew Pretty Christmas Homestyle, a book Carla snatched out of my Amazon book shop in a Christmas Eve minute. (Thanks, Carla! Here's one of the projects I loved from the book....) The pattern for these sweaters is small and the teeny sleeves can be hard to fiddle with, but a cold winter evening under a blanket with fiddly handstitching spells ultimate comfort to me. Thus, my Small Sweater Garland was born.

Originally I'd intended to hang these individually from a small tinsel tree, but settled on stringing them from this string for now and hanging them from my dresser. (They have the string at Michael's, too.) The more I think of it, the more I think I will make enough for ornaments and a garland. Wouldn't this make a sweetly treasured heirloom for a special little girl you know? I thought so.

So I intend to add more as the month wears on: snowflake sweaters, embroidered sweaters, maybe even a polka dot sweater. Christmas time is here, after all. Time to play and make good cheer....

Patriotic Patchwork Prayer

This is a story about an apron and a prayer. If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you about it.

I was looking for another fabric entirely. But this morning as I dug through my material bin, I came across strips of patriotic cloth I've been hoarding for a quilt. As the roll of fabric unfurled, I thought of a flag. Of the stripes on a flag. And in moments, without even thinking, I was at the sewing machine stitching strips into fabric.


As I sewed I began thinking about all the women who are missing someone this Christmas. I thought of all the wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, girlfriends and friends that have a loved one overseas. I thought about the women with heavy hearts who pray - every moment - for a soldier or sailor or Marine. Who pray that he'll be safe... that she'll be well... that he'll come home quickly. Please, come home quickly.

So I began praying, too. As I stitched I prayed for families who are apart this Christmas. I prayed for ones who will wake up Christmas morning without the one they love. And I prayed for the woman who will one day wear this apron. I prayed that, whoever she is, she'll be comforted and blessed whenever she ties on the apron's red, white and blue strings.

And as I prayed, I remembered. I remembered a story I heard about a Grandmother who quilted for her grandchildren. Before she sewed up each quilt, the Grandmother would pencil a prayer onto a slip of paper and quilt it inside the blanket's layers. So I followed that precious Grandmother's lead. I wrote a simple prayer for a patriotic woman I don't even know and her loved one who's so far away. I wrote my prayer and stitched it safely inside. Then I ironed the apron and pinned on its flower.

I hope this apron, which will hit the Freeman House Shop this afternoon, has wings. I hope it and its prayer eventually fly into the life of a loving and hopeful woman somewhere.

And if it's you... if you're reading... my prayers and hopes are with you this Christmas.

May our never-failing God bless our military and its precious families. -Brin

(Update: the apron has sold, but judging by the email response to this post, I may do another Patriotic Prayer Apron. And to all you who've written, I'm overwhelmingly touched by your notes and stories, and pledge to keep each of you in my prayers this season. Especially you boys in Afghanistan and Iraq. You do us proud. Thank you.)

Waste Not, Want Not: Thrifty Nifty Napkins

Waste is worse than loss.

The scope of thrift is limitless.

-Thomas A. Edison

I ran out of napkins, paper towels and Kleenex the same day. It always happens that way, doesn't it? Later that evening, in our little local store's toiletry asile, my eyes bugged out of my head. Who pays $4 for a box of Kleenex? I wondered. Oh yeah. Me. I did. When I made $125,000 a year, I did.

But no more. Oh no. These are the days of layoffs and wipe-outs. These are the days of bail-outs and sell-offs. These are not the days of $4 Kleenex. I got so alarmed that a pack of paper towels, a sack of napkins and a box of Kleenex was going to run me almost $15 that I backed out of the aisle altogether. (I bought a Hershey's with almonds instead. The trip wasn't a total loss.)

Back home, I began rummaging through my bins of scrap material. I came upon my used-clothes stash. Oh yeah! I forgot about these pajama pants, I thought, as I pulled the baby-blue cowgirl print from the middle of the stack. They used to be some of my favorite pajamas before the spaghetti strings frayed on the top and the rear got stretched-out on the pants.

So you can guess what I did. I slit the pant legs up the side and undid the elastic and cut four pieces - each 13 inches square. Then I ironed them flat. Starting at the bottom right corner, I folded the bottom side up 1/2 inch and ironed it flat. I repeated this 'fold and iron' step all the way around the square. Now it measured 12 1/2 inches. So I turned the sides in again, 1/2 inch around, and ironed all the way around again. There. After I stitched the hem down - two with the sewing machine and two by hand, I had four perfect square feet of pajamas -turned - reusable Kleenex. And I still had fabric left over. Take that, expensive napkins and tissue!

I've only used them for a few days now, but I really love them. Toss in the wash and reuse. And reuse. And use again. My once-favorite pj's have a new life. It's strangely gratifying.

What's that old mantra my Grandma used to have? Oh. Of course: Use it up, Wear it out, Make it Do, or Do Without. I think Grandma Elizabeth would be proud.

So don't be surprised, family and friends, if you find a few handmade hankies tied in ribbon tucked in your stocking this year. I promise you'll love them, and I further promise they won't be made out of my old pajamas. (In case you were already worried.)

And if... by chance... anyone else is hung up over the $4 Kleenex thing, too, here's a great tutorial on how to make these.

Stay warm this weekend! -Brin

(By the way, I later broke down and cut up the top of that pajama set, too. And I cut up the pants below the knee. I got five more hankies of various sizes for a total of nine reusable hankies. Wow! The rest of the fabric went into my Postage Stamp Quilt basket so nothing went to waste. )

A Tuesday in Fall

Not sure about you, but fall fever has hit me. Hard. This morning Millie and I went on a leaf peeping/collecting adventure at the State Park. It froze here overnight, and I worried that the puppy might get cold on a morning hike. Please. The cold seemed to invigorate her, and she ran and nosed around as if it were the greatest day of her life. (She did not, however, belly flop into the lake as she usually does.)

We pulled up to the park entrance and the Ranger came to the Jeep. I rolled down the window. "Good morning, ma'am," he said politely, his breath hanging in clouds around his hat. He can't be much older than I am.

"Morning," I said. "How much?"

"Just you?"

"And the dog," I replied, gesturing toward the back seat. He looked in. Millie wagged her tail and licked the window.

"Two dollars," he grinned. Then he looked at me closely. "Mighty cold morning to be out."

I raised my eyebrow and nodded in agreement. He stood there as if he needed an explanation.

"Guess I just need some air," I said.

He looked at me again, studying me. Then he nodded. "Well, you'll have the park to yourself. No one's here."

And no one was. Millie and I had the entire place to ourselves. It was so serene. So, so beautiful, watching the blazing colors reflect off the water and listening to the wind rattle through the crunchy leaves. Summer has blazed into fall and already fall is pointing to winter. The mistletoe, high in the trees, reminded me that even Christmas is a handful of weeks away.

It was inspiring. I came home and began working on my fall aprons, one of which is pictured above and already listed in the Freeman House Shop on etsy.

I think tonight I'll make a pumpkin something and settle in and work on a quilt. (And maybe read. I'm devouring the classic The Ivy Tree, and so far it's my favorite book of the fall. It's shockingly good.)

Wishing you a warm, pleasant day. -Brin

A Quiet Life

Anything for a quiet life.

-Thomas Middleton

This has been the cry of my ever-running and over-exerted feet and heart lately: anything for a quiet life.

Gustav brought wind and rain, but not nearly what we anticipated, thank God. He's been gentle on us. Unrelenting but calm. Compared to Katrina, I think Gustav rather spared us and I'm grateful.

Having emptied a gallon jar of leaking roof water in the back hall this morning, I now have a tin pail under the drip. Every thirty seconds or so I hear the plunk of another drop. It's so quiet, save that dripping. The stillness is comforting.

I'm working on a new quilt... a postage stamp quilt. I really, really love these. I have squares of fabric from Alicia. I have bits of material from old night gowns and shirts, bags and blankets. I even have a dress in there from one of my childhood dolls. At night, just before I go to sleep, I quietly line up the squares and piece them together. I've been delighted to watch this beauty take shape. (Yesterday I decided to put a twin bed in a corner of the study. This quilt will blanket that bed and I'm sure it will be my favorite.)

For those who've asked, I'm also preparing five more House Helper bundles to hit the Freeman House Shop on Etsy by the weekend. The one I'm doing today will be a baby set. Precious.

So there's your update: rain, dripping, quiet, quilting, knitting. There's also a pan of homemade brownies in the oven.

Anything for a quiet life.

Blue Like Summer

If we were young girls again with lazy, idle summer hours to pass, this is the apron we would make. Sky blue checks - blue like a brilliant summer afternoon - with delicate white wildflowers with cherry red centers. We'd make our apron with three wide pockets for hiding a Jane Austen novel and a love letter. Maybe some bluebonnet seeds, too, and a ribbon to tie back our hair. And we'd take the time to embellish our apron with a red blanket stitch because really, on afternoons like this, time taunts and stretches out before us as if it's taking a nap and forgetting to pass. Later, when Mom asks what we did all day, we can show her our tiny red stitches on our apron and get a quick, tight nod of approval.


That's the funny thing with making aprons. I end up inventing a story for each one. They ship out with a life of their own, even if it only played out in my thoughts for the few minutes I sit on the porch and stitch the pocket trim. Seems every apron I make I promise to keep for myself. I can't, of course. One glance at the aprons hanging by the kitchen door makes that clear. Besides, it's better to make than take, right?

I'll be posting handfuls of apron toolbelts on the Freeman House Shop on Etsy tomorrow (Wednesday) at noon CST. I'm letting you all know up front because someone told me it's unfair to sneak listings as they're finished and let one right time/right place person grab all the loot. So consider yourself advised: apron toolbelts go on sale tomorrow at noon. Be there or wish you were.

Smile

The garden is keeping me busy. On top of everything else keeping me busy. I added a row of peas yesterday (they're selling for $30 a bushel down here!) and some okra. I'm now keeping watch over 12 vegetable, 19 herb and numerous flower patches. The bad news is I have to weed it all. The good news is if there's another Great Depression and all the world is hungry, I can help. Everyone show up at Freeman House and we'll gorge on fresh tomatoes and basil... fried squash and canned relish... buttered potatoes and green beans... bacon-boiled peas and spring onions... fried okra and hot-water cornbread... pecan pie and home-churned ice cream.

There's something else really big in the works this week, too. I'm expecting a shipment today and an email tomorrow, then hopefully it's game on. Sleep's being lost over this exciting venture. It's fulfillment of a five year long dream. I can't wait to show you. It's big.

Other than that? Normal stuff. I finished The Sacred Ordinary late last night. Have you gotten a copy? Do. Then I read the first chapter of Blue Like Jazz. And now I'm in love....

Apron Strings

It's all about apron strings today. I've set a goal: to have ten (count 'em: 10) new aprons in the Freeman House Etsy Shop this coming week. Ten. I have such cute fabric and buttons and ribbon to work with, too. Such fun.

Er... sort of. I'll confess: it's not all buttery light and cute prints and chocolate chip cookies here today. Earlier I watched in horror as my obstinate iron jumped over the side of the ironing board and landed - plate down - on an overturned can of spray starch. I'll never know how it managed that. (Grin) Suddenly I heard an angry hiss and jumped aside as the entire can blew up. Everywhere. Last week the gas can... this week the spray starch. (I can't believe I still have both my eyes. And eyebrows. I pity the guardian angel who has to watch over me. Really. I doubt the poor thing has sat down in 29 years. It probably applies for a transfer every day, hoping it will get reassigned to an old lady in Barbados who never stands ladders on top of beds or goes out alone at night in Istanbul or blows up cans of gasoline and spray starch. Maybe I should make it an apron.)

Or maybe I'll just make y'all one. Although the iron and I aren't on speaking terms at the moment, so it may be the middle of next week before they're all done.

But take a gander at those pretty, unsewn strings, would you? Apron strings are wonderful. Just saying "apron strings" makes you a little bit happy, doesn't it? Makes you think of pies and grandmas and summer evenings and speckled brown eggs and cut grass and country gravy, doesn't it? Makes my guardian angel groan but makes us a little bit happy. Apron strings. Apron strings...

Lemonade Quilts, Cottages, and Whys

I sometimes get a comment or two - usually by someone who knows me very well - about posts such as yesterday's. I don't know how you can put such personal things on a blog, they say. Don't you worry about who will read? I know. I truly do. But the answer is no. I don't worry. I used to but I don't anymore. Here's why:

1. Writing, for me, is cathartic. Unlike anything I've found, writing feelings and failures and moments and memories frees me to acknowledge them. Examine them. Then forget them. Once my pleasure or pain is noted down in neat, lettered rows, I pass on the burden of carrying it all around in my head or heart. It's there. If I need to go back and relive it, I can. I don't need to store it and stew.

2. I grew up in a world of facades. In a place where Christian women were expected to be Bible- praying, pot roast-making Stepford wives. Raw emotion was discouraged. So, too, was acknowledging personal struggles. People with problems were rumored to have too little faith... or maybe too much. Christians who struggled were believed to have secret sin or, perhaps, were going through a time of "wilderness" punishment. It never jived with me. Either God forgives and forgets our sin or He doesn't. Either God loves us or He doesn't. And while painful lessons and corrections and maybe even tests are a part of our spiritual growth, they arrive from heaven carefully monitored and planned and always out of love. Always out of a desire by a holy God to help or teach or equip His child. They're not to settle a score or prove some unseen point. (And don't you Bible-thumpers start crying "Job!". Check carefully; he was the exception to the rule, and God rewarded him big time for all that.)

So why not acknowledge, I've reasoned, our struggles? They are, after all, proof that God is patient. That He loves us. Why not be open during times when our convictions would otherwise crumble? Because, you see, the thing with Christians isn't that we don't face hard times. The thing with Christians is that we never face hard times alone.

Besides, it's not that we don't have fears. It's just that our fears are overcome with faith. (Peter, for example.) And it's not that we don't have dark moments. It's just that darkness usually gives way to deliverance. (Moses, Joshua) And sometimes even our rebellion is proof that God's redemption is close at hand. (Jonah)

The point. I suppose my point is that life isn't easy for any of us. But for some of us - for me, anyway - life is beautiful. Even in the midst of its messes. For even in the saddest, most painful of times (yesterday being at the top of my list), I still recognize God's compassion and love. Even then. Even yesterday.

So let's move on to happier subjects. Because there are some big ones coming down the pike. Remember my mention of a Freeman House Cottage? What part of Saturday I didn't spend working in the garden or swinging in a hammock, I spent on horseback riding the land I'm seriously considering buying. Words can't ... they just can't convey... how magical this bit of land is. There are woods and clearings. There are moss-covered creek beds and perfect picnic trees. There are old fences and clumps of growing things. The view is amazing and the air is tranquil. This place has me written all over it. It's my magic place that's not yet mine. Everyday I drive out there and think. I can't stop thinking about it. Could I buy it? Should I? Will I?

All the preliminary checking is completed. I asked the bank if it would be possible for me to move Freeman House. This house has already been relocated once - between 1912 and 1914, I told them. It is perfect for guests but its location is not. I want to move it again and add a cottage and some gardens. Can I do this? I asked.

Sure, they said.

So I came home... and... well... I began piecing this quilt. White and butter yellow diamonds. It's the color of sweet lemonade. I can already see it on the cottage's iron bed, surrounded by buckets of sunflowers under a window with a view of creeping daisies...

...And on the bed, a tray with glasses of lemonade and thick, crumbly sugar cookies and bowls of strawberries and cream. And hand-embroidered linens dried over lavender-patch clotheslines...

Sigh.

It's amazing to me how, even in the messiest, most personal of days, we can find evidence of God's unfailing love. We can hold onto promises of peace and happiness. I like to think that even as I make my way through the mud, God's sloshing alongside with seeds in His pockets. The same seeds that will become a garden that will become my dinner and my delight. And the torn, cut-away pieces and fragments of my hopes? My selfish dreams? Those are the same scraps we'll use to beget a quilt that will beget rest. Sweet rest.

I'm so far from perfect. I'm such a mess. And my life is far from perfect. But it's as blessed as a life can be. From the "flesh and the fury" to the lemonade quilts, my Redeemer has proven Himself faithful and true. Even when others are not. May every word I write here and every word you read here be a testament to that.

Scrappy Bags... Or Pieces of Pretties

I love pretty wisps of things. Fabric scraps. Old buttons. Vintage wallpaper bits. Lengths of ribbon and bias tape and Ric Rac. Sweet sewing patterns. Sitting among these pieces of pretties is like playing in your beautiful grandmother's sewing basket. I could play in them all day.

In fact, I have been. And in doing so, I realized there's enough to share. So if you've been itching for a bag full of new odds and ends, head on over to the Freeman House Shop on Etsy and grab one of your very own. But hurry. There aren't many.

No pretty piece pressure or anything. *wink*

Sunshine Daisy Pinwheel Presents

My first memory is of the brightness of light -

light all around.

I was sitting among pillows

on a quilt on the ground.

- Georgia O'Keefe

I'm working on a quilt for someone very special. A Christmas gift, of sorts, made with more love and hope and excitement than I would have believed possible.

Hancock's was busy this past Friday, but I braved the long line at the cutting counter and returned home with enough yellow yardage to make my pretty pinwheels. I'm hoping to get this sweet thing pieced in the next two weeks and then drop it by the long-arm quilting shop to finish the rest. (Hey. It's Christmas. And after eyeing my still-to-be-knitted list, I know my limitations.)

I've never pieced a quilt like this before. Have you? I got the idea from Susan Branch's quilt pattern, and then ran with it... planning every detail down to the yellow polka dotted binding. I've been eager to start it - so eager - and even more eager to see it take shape. I want it... just the sight of it... to conjure up sunshine. Sunshine and soft, buttery morning light. And daisies. Hundreds of little daisies. Fields of daisies nodding in the wind....

Kind of like that perfume ad with Gweneth Paltrow and the puppy. I want the quilt to conjure up that.

[Ahem]

Can you believe it's already Christmas gift time? I feel as though I'm down to the wire, although there are several calendar squares yet to check off. What about you? Have you finished shopping or making? Are your sunshine/daisy/pinwheel presents coming together?

Tool Belt Thursday

Got out my handmade, girly tool belt today. My gosh, do I ever have 3,498 things I'm trying to juggle this week. Do you ever have a hard time saying "no"? I think I might. Never thought of myself as a yes man, but maybe I am. Um... I mean ... girl. Yes girl.

At the rate I'm going I'll be cleaning gutters and leaf-blowing lawns for people or something, just because they asked. Sheesh.

Well, at least I have my tool belt. Girls always get more done when they show up with pockets and tool loops, don't you think?

Bet there's research to that effect somewhere.

Fall Fancy, Part Two

The Earth has rolled around again

and harvest time is here,

The glory of the seasons

And the crown of all the year.

-Carolyn Wells

Turns out the first day of fall this year is Sunday. September 23rd. Oddly enough, it's always an exciting day for me, as if the calendar has just written me a permission slip to drag out my sweaters and make pumpkin lattes and stitch quilts in earnest. I love fall. I love everything about it.

Sometime during the week, although I'm really not sure how, I managed to whip up one of those ever popular Yo-Yo Garlands that are sweeping the countryside boutiques and craft blogs. It was so much fun. I did this one in purples and oranges and sage-y greens and got it posted on the Freeman House Etsy site this morning. I have one of these handmade garlands draped across my bed. It's adorable... so simple and old fashioned and whimsical. Too fun.

Remember several weeks back when I asked y'all what outdoor feature you'd prefer: a water feature, a croquet lawn, a brick fire pit, or an outdoor theatre? The vote was tied - even steven - between a water feature and a brick fire pit. How cool. I have a guy coming 'round tomorrow to help me with the brick fire pit. Can't wait. I'm going to whip up some of Susan Branch's homemade marshmallows (I like them with Amaretto and with peppermint mixed in), and set out platters of chocolate and cinnamon graham crackers. Yum. S'mores over an open fall flame. Sounds like a good Friday night, doesn't it?

Speaking of Susan Branch, have you ever gotten your hands on a copy of her Autumn from the Heart of the Home? If you haven't, you must. Seriously. You must. This time of year this little book follows me everywhere as I constantly refer to its recipes, ideas and pictures. It's happiness between covers is what it is. It's one of the reasons I adore fall as much as I do.

By the way, Country Living has a fabulous spread (October issue) on Susan's Autumn book. You'll want to see it. The Potatoes Anna is worth the price of the magazine alone.

Hmm. Okay. Need to be off. (Shelley, I'm headed your way.) Hope you have a wonderful fall inaugural weekend. Breathe deeply and make something yummy to drink and get some good sleep.

See you Monday! -Brin

Sewing... and Other Wonderful Things

Wanted:
a needle swift enough
to sew this poem into a blanket.
-Charles Simic

There's a great deal of sewing and cutting and sewing and cutting going on in Freeman House this week. Scrumptious sewing with sumptuous fabrics and swift fingers and a speedy machine. The projects are piling up, all new and soft and colorful. Scraps are everywhere. The cat's having a field day. As the windows squeak open and the fall-ish air whispers through, the rooms seem to be breathing again. They seem happy again. Comforting. Colorful.

There are several projects to tackle this Friday and weekend. The mammoth screen door needs re-screening. The flower beds weeded and turned to fall. The dining room finished. Leaves raked. Yup. Already. My weekend is split between my to-do list, an inn-sitting commitment, and a slumber party Friday night with my girls. My Sunday School girls. I've promised them a pool and pajama party before it gets cold, so tomorrow's it.


But that's tomorrow. Today is sewing and leaf raking and cupcake packing. (I think, after all, that cupcakes are perhaps the most wonderful food. And so incredibly inexpensive compared to store-bought goodies. Today I've used a plastic baggie to pipe on frosting, sprinkled the frosting with 3 tablespoons sugar mixed with 1 drop food coloring (red, in this case), and instantly have pink-glittered cupcakes. Done, cheap, and delicious.) Bring on the girls.

...And more sewing. There's something about picking up a needle as soon as the temperature begins to drop that just feels so... right... somehow. And there's something about sleeping beneath a handmade quilt that's so... settling... somehow. Like sleeping under pretty history. Or a poem. Sleeping beneath a quilt in the fall is like sleeping beneath a well-loved poem....

Napkins and Headbands

Think where mans glory most begins and ends,

and say my glory was I had such friends.

-William Butler Yeats

I was looking out the front windows yesterday afternoon, worrying about more rain, when I noticed it: an inconspicuous little package tucked under the porch eaves. Way under. No label. I approached it hesitantly, wondering if I'd made anyone mad recently. Ha! It was a present. From Cherie. From Cherie... a lady I've never met yet who reads this blog and shops my etsy site. What a surprise! I opened it and out tumbled perfectly folded squares of fabric, a notepad, a pink notebook, and the nicest note anyone could think to write.

(Cherie, again I thank you. I'm sure I did nothing to deserve this, so that makes you one of the most sweet and generous gals ever. And I love your taste in fabric!)

Anyway, after a happy suggestion and three seconds of smoke-pouring-from-the-ears thinking, a project plan was born. Today, my dears, it's all about napkins and headbands.

Napkins from Bend the Rules Sewing by Amy Karol

I have one set of cloth napkins. Purchased years ago from Pier One, they are the most delicate shade of vanilla-y cream. They are perfect. So perfect, in fact, that I refuse to let anyone - especially those with gaudy Texas lipstick - near them. Even my "nice" dinners feature paper napkins. And it just won't do. Not anymore. I shudder to think what the neighbors have been saying about my paper napkin household. Therefore, by the end of the day, I will have perfect 14" x 10 1/2" cloth napkins made from Cherie's fabric and the instructions in Amy Karol's new Bend the Rules Sewing. And the new napkin set will undoubtedly be added to the Freeman House tour. As in, "now here we have the cloth napkins. No... they're not historic. What? No... they weren't Miss Freeman's. They are mine. I. made. them. Just look at the pretty napkins, won't you?"

Eh-hem.Right. My second project for the day consists of Heather Bailey's handmade headbands. I'm not sure why, but lately I've become quite the headband queen. Probably because my hair is the longest it's been since I was in kindergarten and I'm not about to cut it in the middle of summer. That or I'm using bright headbands to distract you from noticing the new AGE SPOT under my right eye. Either way, headbands rule the day.

Wow. Isn't it wonderful how blogs beget friends? How blogs connect a girl in Texas to a generous lady in Salt Lake City and suddenly napkins and headbands are born? I think it's marvelous. I think you friends are my only glory. Cherie, thanks again. And to everyone else, thanks. Thanks for being here and commenting and encouraging. I'm glad we found each other, and I hope happy finds you wherever you are today. -Brin

Rest

By the seventh day
God had finished the work

He had been doing;
so on the seventh day
He rested from all His work.

-Genesis 2:2

This has been one of the busiest weeks I've had since leaving the city. Next week I'm juggling my full-time job, teaching Vacation Bible School and trying to get parts of Freeman House finished for my summer knitting class. Egad! The longer my to-do list gets, the more I want to crawl into my fluffy bed and piece my quilt and eat biscuits and Bumbleberry Jam.

I saw this quilt on Heather Bailey's blog a few weeks ago and decided it would be perfect for a guest room. I'm making my hexagons larger (3 inches) and have changed the design a bit, but the concept is still the same. Isn't it beautiful?

Well, I think so.

You know, speaking of curling up with a quilt, I think God was really onto something when He rested that seventh day. I've often wondered why He did. It's not as if He needed to. Perhaps He did it as an example. Perhaps He did it to show us that every few days we need to stop and look at everything we've created and rest. Just rest. We're all so tired. So burned out. So drained and stretched and exhausted. I wonder how our lives would change for the better if we would follow God's example and take one day out of the week and rest?

What a luxury that would be, huh?

Enjoy your weekend. And try... try to get some rest! -Brin