to my daughter.....

To you, the little one who I held and carried long before my arms ever cradled you against me; you my miracle or miracles; you who are my heart beat outside my body; the piece that I look for that I feel for, the jigsaw that I never knew until I looked squarely at the wholeness of my life picture and then squinted as if I was looking at some Pointillism, or Impressionism, or some abstract piece of art, and suddenly saw what could be, what should be, what is beauty, what is greatness, all thing different to he beholder but still recognized by any who come in contact with it, like a electric shock running through their body, or a breeze in summer. You cannot be ignored.

How is it you have grown so much that my arms cannot contain you? But this was always the plan wasn’t it? To have arms strong enough to hold you, to contain you when you were meant to be contained, and then arms long enough to let you go, but still be within reaching distance, for the moments you need some extra comfort, some support, so that form around the world, my arms will be long enough to reach you, and some how, I shall still hold you.

Then I rejoiced at your growing. “Look at my big girl,” I would say, and dutifully measure you against the wall in your bedroom, a testimony to the passing of time, to the passing of childhood. My big girl whose progress was charted by doctors in ounces, and inches, and by parents and friends by the size clothing you wore.

Now the hourglass continues, sped up to what seems like the normal pace times ten. I look at you, my child, running, running, climbing up in the tree and grinning like a hatter, the hem of your dress resting above your knees when it was at you calves a month ago. You run, you climb, you sing, you dance, all of the exuberance of childhood, the way it should be, this is the way it should be, I remind myself. But I find myself wondering, when did this happen? When did this little child replace the babe I held in my arms? When did you outgrow your favorite shoes that sparkle like the dust of pink diamonds and shards of rubies? I never clicked the heels of those shoes together to see if they would rewind time. I should have tried.

I rejoiced when you slept through the night, for I was the one who was desperate for sleep, for a moment of rest. Never did I think that I would miss those secret hours when it was just the two of us in the dark hours of not even morning. You and I, the bottle and the television remote and whatever movie was on the cable station. Together we were washed in the dim glow from the television. Now when you wake at night, and you cry out for me, I still grumble, but I walk to your room, lift you from your nightmares and hold you in my arms again. Now I can scare the boogeyman, the nightmares, the monsters in your closet. Now I am strong and powerful. I wonder if you shall still think so when you discover the truth about the boogeyman, and monsters under your bed. Then, chasing away the things that frighten you, guarding and protecting you will be a harder job. You will discover then that even SuperMoms, and Normal Moms have their kryptonites. It is I who must develop immunity to it.

It is your eyes that amaze me. Not only the blueness that seems taken from the sky itself, the hypnotic lapis lazuli, or the gray blue before a storm, but the eyes that see everything for the first time. For you the world is as it should be, full of wonder, brimming with mysteries and excitement. My eyes are old, and have seen it all before. But what is that? To teach a child to be bored, to be complacent with wonder, to squash out wonder at the crimson coated ladybugs that march up and down the apricot tree? Who would I be to tell you to simply shrug when you see the dragonflies with their glass clear wings and crystalline etchings, coated in green armor buzzing nearby, or the lightning bugs that droop lazily on a summer night, blinking their green lights as if directing traffic in a never ending thoroughfare. I would be wrong, I would be shameful. I would be accountable for destroying another’s imagination.

Your wonder humbles me. You have pulled me to watch the sunset more than once, pointing with breathless glee and saying, “Pink Sky! Pink Sky!” When I was too busy, you took me by the hand and led me to the real importance. And for that moment, we shared eyes. We have crouched to watch a line of ants hiking over the branches of a tree, sat ever so still on the edge of the pond and observed the mallard ducks that made their nest in the tall grass. When you saw her egg on the shore, you marvelled at the roundness, smoothness, and whiteness of it all. We came and visited it each day, and though it never hatched - I never told you that as it was out of the nest it would always remain an egg -the importance was in the moment. That day we learned an egg is quiet. I learned so are you.

You are strong willed, which will be important later on. My little one, how can I tell you that the world is growing more and more dark and bleak in some places? How can I tell you we live in a world of bombs, and atrocities, of injustice and genoicides? How can I even introduce those things to you, certainly not now, but how could I ever explain it to you? There should be a follow up statement, that these terrible things happened, BUT they are over now. The world has learned its lesson, and we have all grown up and become better people for it, and that it will never happen again. That is the way the statement should end. But in truth, that statement has no end. The statement is simply that world is full of injustice, and awful things that happen to good people and bad people alike, and not all the bad guys get caught. The only end statement I can add to it, is one that isn’t even necessarily true. There are awful things in the world, BUT maybe you, maybe you my jewel and shining pearl, maybe you can help change things. Even in some small way, like all those who love truth, and beauty and right, maybe you too will find some way to make a difference, even if it is as simple as planting a flower garden for the hummingbirds to feed at, and where butterflies can rest. Maybe that will be enough.

Your tenacity will be needed when it comes to following your own song, and living your own hopes and dreams. People will want to make you feel wrong for having those dreams, will want to cubbyhole you into what they think you should be. But my love, my jewel, my brightest star, do not let them. They have no right to it. They have no right to you. No matter what they tell you. Never listen to them, for once you listen to them, you are lost, and that compass needle that points true north or true desire and hope and fearlessness will be tainted with doubt and confusion. Tenacity will be needed to defend your dreams from the wolves of despair, and to buoy yourself up in the alone times, and there will be alone times. But they are not to be feared.

It is fine to be alone. It is fine to be with others. But everyone needs some of both, some more than others. Just make sure you see the sunshine, the lightning, and the starlight. And may there be someone that can be with you in the alone times, a friend, a dog, a memory.

Now, as you are now, I once was. I was once a little girl, with a temper, with a quilt, who climbed trees in my Sunday Best, who rode the horses bareback, and built forts out in the woods among the birches and thick green moss. I read my books on the roof of our house after I learned to climb that high without falling, and I threw my Barbie dolls down the chimneys. And I see what my mother must have seen, what she must have felt. Where did the little girl go who asked her mother to sit on her so she would stay small forever? Where is the imp who believed in fairies and clapped her hands ever so vehemently? Where is her pet butterfly?

For grown ups, time stops moving. Our may grow silver or white, our birthday cakes get larger to hold the candles, sometimes we grow more round. But that is the end of our growing. But we remember it all. We remember the tree climbing, the fairy forts, and catching firelfies in our hands to watch them glow green. Childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, we remember it all. But that’s about it. We remember it. You my child are on the beginning of your path, and to watch you on the path is much more startling for the hourglass does not stop, and neither do you. Each day you breathe, and each night you sleep, you grow up just a little bit more.

Until one day, you are no longer my baby, but a fully fledged adult and I will wonder where has the time gone? Where is my blueberry girl? Just like every other parent in the world has wondered.

And the saddest thing my love, my jewel, my child, is this: it never ends. It is nothing that we can stop. It is nothing that I can prevent you from experiencing. The bittersweetness of motherhood, should you go on that path, is inescapable. The two are hand in hand entwined.

As I write these things, you are napping in your crib, in your lavender room, under your quilt of flannel stripes with a hand painted OM and blessing on the front. I look at you, I listen to you. I see you in me, me in you. I see your grandmother in both of us, and my great grandmother in all of us. It is like holding up a mirror, generations and generations down the line, and we see it all in our eyes’ reflections. How far you’ve come, how far you have yet to go, and I vow to go with you as far as I can, to soak up every moment as best I can, even if I know it is futile, I will do this…. and then I pray to have the wisdom to let you grow up too. And then, maybe you will see all of this in your own daughter’s eyes

Food Storage and Bulk foods

Growing up a member of the LDS church (official title *inhale* The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saint *exhale.*) and with a father who was adamant about food storage, I had a foot up on some of this when I became an 'adult.'

When we were little, it was a huge comfort to be able to go into the basement, and find literally a complete hallway, probably about seven-eight feet tall, as long as the house, full of shelves of food. All for a rainy day. There were canned goods, soups, cans of HI-C, and generic Kool-Aid.... anything we might need, it was there. On top of this food supply, was also a supply of basic needs: shampoo, laundry detergent, toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, tylenol, etc. A year's supply.

And having been snowed in, tornadoed in, thunderstormed in, we made good use of it.

The LDS church has been teaching about self sufficiency and provident living (those are the buzzwords) for I think over a hundred years. Making the most of our resources when we have them, to lay up store for those days when we don't. That's another reason gardens are so very very common and truly urged among the LDS community. So while, like I said, these things are basic common knowledge to me, to some others who didn't grow up with my upbringing or cultural background, it's not.

That's why it's in the Little Known Gems.

When I got married, and moved all of across the street, my husband and I started on our own food storage. We canned tomatoes that first year from our garden. We made jams and jellies, and pepper relish. We made applesauce.

But really, who wants to live on applesauce and raspberry jam? Just those two things? No one. So we needed to expand our pantry. Of course the canned goods started lining the shelves. But it was expensive.

And then going to church and talking about Food Storage to some of the members there, we got instant reactions about "You must have X amount of pounds of Hard Wheat in your storage. You have to store Wheat!" As if this is going to build you an ark during the next great flood. I don't even know what to do with straight wheat..... But You have to HAVE WHEAT. Or else you have three heads and speak Kling On.

It got to be really overwhelming. really. There were all these words or phrases, like "Dutch Valley Orders" or "Atlantic Spice Orders..." My head started to spin. I was handed a catalog for one these places and I just couldn't focus. It was like handing someone the telephone book and telling them to pick out their next ten best friends.

Dutch Valley and Atlantic Spice are both places where you can buy Bulk Foods. Atlantic Spice specializes in - drum roll please - Spices. OOoohhhh, Aaaahhh.. Dutch Valley bulk foods specializes in - keep that drum roll going - Bulk Foods. Once again, Oooohhh, Aaaaahh.

From Atlantic Spice company, you can order 5 pounds of cinnamon. Really. But the question you beg to answer is, what do you do with five pounds of cinnamon when you get it? How long does it keep for? and really, do you need five pounds of cinnamon? Or five pounds of chamomile, which due to its fluffy make up is surprisingly, a lot of chamomile.

Well this past month, we just placed and received our first order from Dutch Valley Foods. We ordered the basics, King Arthur Flour, some chicken broth mix, some dried pineapple, a heck of a lot of raisins....

All in all, it works out to being a lot cheaper to buy in bulk. But then what do you do with fifty pounds of flour? or fifteen pounds of flaxseeds?

Well, you get out your Food Saver (or you borrow from someone), start making vacuum packed packets, and then put them in buckets.

But where do you get buckets? Does your grocery store have an in house bakery? If so, then there. Go to the bakery and ask for Buckets with Fitting lids. See what they'll give you. Our store here gives them away. Just have to go ask. some stores charge fifty cents a bucket. It depends on the place.
get it home, wash it, dry it, line it with a clean, white, unscented garbage bag, and then add contents. Pour in flour, sugar, whatever. Or if you're keeping things in their original packaging, like that giant thing of Ramen you bought, or in our case, Kraft Mac and Cheese, you can stack them in there. Then twist tie the garbage shut, put the lid on, and label it, And you're good to go.

(Another awesome thing about the buckets is, aside from being free, is that they are air tight. If you, like us, have ever battled Pantry moths, those stupid little bugs that will eat their way through ANY container, including cardboard, plastic, etc - you know you absolutely have to go with something that's air tight. And these buckets are completely air tight. and even if they weren't, the bag that lines the inside of the bucket and then is twist tied shut, creates an air tight environment.

But why should anyone do this? It's just easier to go to the store and buy it when you need it. Yes it absolutely is. But you're paying extra for that convenience. you're paying extra to be impulsive or not impulsive.

I am very guilty of this. I have been known to go to the store a few times a week. I'm awful. I don't do meal plans. I need to do that. I don't do a lot of things the Super mom does...

But I thing having a few things set aside for a food storage, is definitely worth noting here.

How do you begin? You begin by making a space in your cupboards, or your basement, and when you go to the store, instead of just buying one can of soup, you buy two. Do this little thing, every time you go to the store. Other options are bulk stores like Sams Club, Bjs and Cosco.... you can buy an entire case of green beans, thus making you ready for the world's largest green bean casserole. Or just on those off nights when you have no idea what vegetable to have with your dinner, you can just go grab a can.

Look at things you use a lot of. We bake here, a lot. We make our own bread. So we need more flour than someone else might. Start with little things. Do you have to go for the whole years' supply? No. you go for a week. then go for a little longer. But make sure you store stuff that you're going to eat and use.

If you want to check out bulk food places like Dutch Valley, or Atlantic spice (http://www.dutchvalleyfoods.com/ http://www.atlanticspice.com/) go ahead, make a list of things you might be interested, and absolutely of course shop by price. Just because they have fifty pounds of dried cream of mushroom soup, doesn't mean you have to get it.

And don't forget about storing water. In moments when the power goes out, and your well is run off electric, you then have no water. every large soda bottle, every juice bottle, rinse out, fill with water, assuming your tap water is fine, and then seal it up, and put with your storage. This will give you water to drink, water to flush toilets with, water to do dishes with, water to wash with.

One other note: well two actually. anyone out there remember the Far side cartoon, with the man and woman in the underground bunker full of food, and there's a large mushroom cloud over head. the woman is scolding the man. "How many times have I told you to make sure there's a can opener in there? How many times? It's not any good to us, if we don't have a can opener...." Ditto that. keep a can opener in the food storage area, along with one of the bucket wrenches to get those lids off. http://www.bungwrench.com/

You can save some money, add food to your pantry, create a little more organized household, and help secure that you'll have food on the table in times of emergency.

While you may think I've been drinking the Apocalyptic Kool-Aid, just think of it as being practical, frugal, and slightly organized.

And just for the record, I STILL don't have Wheat.

Now back to washing those buckets.....

How to make Denim Quilts - with directions.

I don't know what it is, but I hate to waste fabric. If there's a way to use it again, I'll try to keep it and make it into something else. Today this is very hip and called upcycling, or recycling, or any number of 'cycling' words. Years ago it was called pack rat syndrome. Because until you found a use for that object, you had to hold on to it, until its use appeared. I do my best to combat this by also being an impulsive clutter purger. Sometimes the results are disastrous.

I grew up a quilter. As soon as I could hold a pencil, I could hold a needle. I hand pieced, hand quilted, or tied. It was all very Little House on the Prairie. I took my baby quilt to my after school sewing classes and fixed it. At the same time, I listened to Phantom of the Opera on my walk man (yes walk man, with audio cassette tapes) that was held together with really large hair ties. There's actually a picture of me doing this in my friend's book. "small folk quilters" by Ingrid Rogler. Look it up and laugh at my geekishness. even then I was a serious looking chipmunk faced girl. (I can say this now..)

One year when my mom went out West to visit friends, she came back talking about the quilts made out of old jeans that she had seen on the family ranch. And that was all it took to begin my love affair with making denim quilts.

So I began collecting old jeans, old flannel shirts, anything that I could cut apart and put into a quilt. My first denim quilt I finished after my grandfather passed away and after being snowed in for two weeks. I could name every piece of fabric in that quilt, tell you who's jeans they had been, where the green paint came from. All of it. And that act of piecing together my family, just after I had lost one of the major pieces was such a comfort to me, such a catharsis, that it has remained part of my life.

Now if you're thinking, Quilting, I could never do that... And if you're thinking about the beautiful intricate appliques that you see in the county fairs, or the really annoying ladies on PBS Saturday mornings, and how they all look a bit stuffy and artificial - both the tv show hosts AND the quilts, then erase your mind.

When it comes to my way of quilting with denim, I am all about ease, and speed, and fudge-work. I don't measure anything. really I don't. I just sew everything together and make it work. This is almost brainless sewing. It doesn't require a lot of thought, just a lot of imagination. And as it's not the 'traditional' or 'archival' way of quilting, then you can do whatever you want!

The more denim you use, the heavier the quilt will be. My first denim quilt I made probably weights about ten pounds. Maybe more. It's very heavy. It's also very warm. (This quilt just above is a close up of my first denim quilt, made in the midst of mourning and being snowed in. It's ALL denim. And very warm, and very heavy.... It's also pictured at the top of the page, on the bed. The fuzzy part is my dog's head in the bottom of the picture. She just wanted to be included.)

So if you're concerned about the physical weight of the quilt, intermingle some flannel with it (old flannel shirts are great for this), corduroy, quilt cottons... Do NOT use old T shirts.

to the right, is I think, my second denim quilt. thhis is a close up it, showing the use of flannel shirts and denim mixed together. It's lighter in weight and warmth but sitll very warm. The pattern is called Roman Coins. This detail is taken from the quilt pictured above.

And of all things, use your imagination. I've appliqued patches on mine. I leave the pockets functional. I've even painted on mine.

If you have basic sewing skills, a reliable sewing machine.... You can have this done in about two to three weeks. The hardest part is the cutting apart the shirts and jeans and rendering them into usable pieces. Other than that, it's just easy straight shot sewing like we learned in sixth grade Home Ec class.

They are also notoriously easy to make. I don't like measuring. I'm typically as unfussy as possible when it comes to quilting. I usually just cut things out and make them fit together. There's no pattern. But when they are laid together, it can be the most beautiful randomness ever.

I am including a link to the directions I wrote on how to make a denim quilt. I submitted it to an online newsletter years ago - Mormonchic.com. The article is still there and viable. There was some less than stellar editing by the people there. But the directions are sound, and there's some great pictures there too. Some of those quilts pictured in the article are mine, some aren't.

http//www.mormonchic.com/crafty/denim_quilt.asp

But if you're one of those people who hates to throw out jeans, or flannel, or fabric, or who doesn't think they can quilt, because it's too complicated, or there's too much measuring, really truly, try a denim quilt. They're forgiving. They wear like iron. They are very warm and heavy - note the more denim you use the heavier the quilt will be, even though it may look thin, it's going to be heavy. very warm quilts. and you don't have to worry about them getting dirty, because they're made from jeans. Toss them in the wash, then in the dryer, NEVER ON A WOODEN DRYING RACK - they'll snap the rack in two almost instantly - and you're good to go.

Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep.....

Today I'm in a counting my blessings sort of mood.

There's a blog I follow - soulemama.com - really lovely stuff. She chronicles her mothering adventures, her crafting, and artistic endeavors and natural adventures on her website. lovely lovely. and every friday she has a photo up from the week that she took, that just kind of sums up the feeling, the moment you want to hold onto longer.

Today was full of moments like that for me.

This evening the baby and I went for a long walk. She loves to go for long walks. She's only two and a half yearsold, but she can't get enogh of her long walks, of being outside, and of being surrounded by nature. Usually we go down through the field, past the cows and the chickens, down to the edge of our field and back up the hill. Sometimes we go into our neighbor's field, and go to the ice cream shack right there.

Tonight we weren't able to go on our usual route because the cows had to be moved up to the other pastures today, which meant putting up the cattle chute (a fenced in 'canal' kind of thing, a fenced in path connecting the lower pasture to the back pasture). So the temporary electric fence was up from one pasture to the other, essentially blocking off our way to get to the usual route.

Instead, at my dad's urging, we went up along the other side of the far pasture, up along the fence, and through the neck of the woods, and up through the next field. This takes us up to one of the old barn foundations/ruins on the farm, and up to another beautiful field. We didn't go up through the barn ruin, but we got through the far field, and up to the road before we decided to head back.

Along the way, we're in high grass. Everything grows there. And as we're walking, the baby is happily stomping along, I see something red. ruby red.

Wild strawberries! The baby instantly sat down once she heard the word strawberry, and was gobbling them up. These were about the size of my pinky fingernail, and we probably didn't get more than five, but still sweet, and beautiful. Still sunkissed. Our first strawberries of the summer.

On this long walk, I thought about how lucky I am to be able to share nature with my daughter. My parents did this with us. We went for long walks every Sunday. we went out and saw the animals in the woods, saw the sunset, all of that. I remember eating wild strawberries, and pigeon berries and wintergreen berries on our walks - I could probably still identify them too. I remember breaking off my own walking stick when I was old enough to do so. I remember climbing all the old grape vines (not the little ones we grow in our gardens but the huge old wild ones that are as thick as your arms) and swinging on them or climbing up into the trees following their curves. We used to have to stop at every grape vine so I could have a swing.

As we came into the neck of the woods, the baby started saying, "Trees! Look at the trees! I love trees! I love trees! Trees and the sunshine!" Just her all out sincerity of really loving the trees, of really loving seeing the sunshine dappling through the tall trees, and I thought, I love them too.

We climbed up through the farther field. This is the field that when my love and I first started heavily considering moving, we came for a walk up to this field (easily the size of a football field, if not larger and wider), and I burst into tears. the entire place was full of Queen Anne's Lace (also known as Wild Carrot) - my favorite flower. Just for as far as the eye could see. And I was just overwhelmed with the beauty of it all. And then hearing that there isn't Queen Anne's Lace in Utah just about made me crumble in two.

This season the field has been planted. Probably hay or corn. Fine either way.

We walked back down through the field, walking sideways to try to avoid stepping on too many little new plants. Back through the neck of the woods. Back to the far end of the pasture, and finally home again.

Dinner, the baby and I were sitting together, and she leaned into me and said, "My beautiful Mommy...." "I'm your baby, you're my mommy..." "I love you too," without being prompted...

Just lots of moments like this today. Lots of moments of just being together, of playing, of swinging in the new swing, of playing with her cousins (she adores her new baby cousin. She gives him kisses. She can't wait until she can hold him..)

The baby opted not to watch Shaun the Sheep (I had turned it off, but sometimes there's a battle) during dinner, and she actually ate dinner. We had a little conversation about how our day went, and what we liked... and she ate well.

So while I have no idea what I have done to get such a beautiful day, I am grateful for it.

Count your blessings instead of Sheep, that way you'll fall asleep counting your blessings..