A simple gift

It does take a bit of thought to make something for someone. My method is to focus on one interesting fact about the person and then go from there. The bookmark that I made this evening was very simple and fun to make. Once I had chosen a theme, it took no time to stitch up the scraps of cotton, cut up a cereal box for the inside, and stamp a very short message on the back. A thoughtful gift - is there any other kind?

$3.99!

Every once in awhile you come across a treasure. Such was the case for me last week as I took my daily stroll through my favourite junk store (just to escape the heat) and as always headed to the back of the store where the fabric and notions are displayed. A hooked rug which my picture does not do it justice. The foundation is burlap, the scene is so 'Maud Lewis', the front is soft as lamb's wool and the back is just as well done. It has been signed by the maker with a 'B' in the right hand corner. The price does not reflect the love and steady craftsmanship that went into this rug.

Need I say anything?

Love at first sight

Four months ago as I walked past one of my favourite stores I was stopped short when I saw the display in their window. A honey-coloured armoire positioned just off-centre, it's double doors wide open to reveal a cavernous space within boasting two shelves and above that a square rod for hanging clothes. And to make it even more perfect it has three very capacious drawers.
I did not hesitate to walk in and inquire about this wonderful piece of furniture. Not as expensive as I had imagined; possibly because it is not very old (over ten years) and the owner of the shop tells me that it might be M. The dreaded M word, I did not want to hear that. When I envisioned buying an armoire in a dusty, out of the way antique store, it would be a hundred year old from Italy or England made from oak or chestnut. So I thanked her for her time and left.
I thought about it for four months. It is a very solid armoire that does need some refurbishing; all that black wrought iron has to go. There are many screws that have to be removed and the drawers need to be adjusted. I love the pine, always have loved pine but one of these days it may get a new look. I always said that I would never buy anything made in this country (M) which has me rethinking to never say never.

Dining room table quilt

For all four of the t-shirt quilts that I have made for the girls, each one had to be pinned together on the floor and then stitched by machine on the dining room table. Each one took a lot of planning to make sure that there was no colour clashing. And when I ran out of t-shirts, I borrowed from someone's closet.

Lemon tarts for breakfast

At our regular place, they know about what time we are going to be there, what we are going to order, and how we like our food heated. They make us feel special; that is their job. But on Saturday, after sleeping in, we quickly headed down to the Farmer's Market without having breakfast. Instead of doing our usual, we headed east and had coffee and the best lemon tarts in town at a place where they do not know us. It was a nice change.

Hot lunch

Roast chicken on herb bread with jalapenos,mixed greens, and goat cheese washed down with a whipped cream topped mochaccino on a park bench in full sun. I lasted ten minutes.

Market frittata

Peas and green onions from the market, eggs from the farm and parsley from my garden.

Summertime canning

Apple pie cooling on the back porch

Fridgeology

No batteries, no pictures

It was a cloudy day but warm enough that no jacket was needed as we headed up the mountain. At the trailhead, there were quite a few like minded folks either leashing up their dogs or gearing up their bikes. Halfway up, I started noticing the hits of colours in between all the sagebrush. So I quickly got out my camera and as the battery pack was dying I clicked one frame which is the one you see below. We carried on down a new trail and stopped to admire the huge red mushrooms emerging from the piles of pine needles. Back on the main trail, the baby blue flax waving gently in the breeze made us stop to admire the tiny flowers, not to catch our breath.