A little rain.

Unfortunately, the only sun today is in these photos. It was a rainy, dismal day.

Do you ever have those weeks, when no matter how hard you try, no matter what great plans you have made, you just don't get that much accomplished? You end up chasing your tail, running around, starting one project, getting sidetracked on another. Going to New Hampshire yesterday took a big chunk of time out of my scheduled week.
I envy my cats sometimes, they have no schedule. They do what they please, when they please. And on top of it, they seem quite content with their lot.
These are some of the towels I have been working on every chance I get.
Sometimes I think that I start too many things, and then I get overwhelmed when I can't finish them all as quickly as I would like.
I have about 50 lbs of blue jeans to sew and I think I have finished about half of them to date. I have to put a warp on for a 10 x 12 blue jean rug. If I get those two things done, I will be happy, and I will be amazed. Because I feel like I am taking two steps forward and one step back.

The rain is falling outside the window. For some reason, I had a flashback to a dark spring evening. I was fishing with my father, sitting on a dock on Lake George. He had a kerosene lantern or two, and he was fishing for bullhead. A man of few words, he was intent on what he was doing. He did tell me, though, that we had to fish where there was a 'rile', which just meant that the water near the shore was all stirred up and muddy. I never really knew why that meant that the fish would bite. But they did. I always thought that bullhead were the ugliest fish ever, swimming around in a bucket, after they were caught.
I thought my father would live forever.
I wonder if all little girls feel that way.
Good night, all. I am very tired, in so many ways.

Day trip

I have been lusting for another loom for some time. I wanted an 8 harness Baby Wolf, to use when I teach basic weaving, and to bring home for those long winter evenings. I am not much of a TV person, so while my husband watches his favorite shoot em' up shows, I am usually reading, or playing scrabble online, or knitting.
But I would love to weave towels, or scarves instead.






So I found this Baby Wolf for sale, and it was in New Hampshire, 3 hours away. But the price was appealing, and it was an 8 harness. So I called, and luckily I was the first caller, there were a dozen or more after me.
I decided to go this morning. I tried to get someone to go along with me. Usually my husband goes with me on these "loomy" adventures. But he was playing golf, and couldn't cancel. I missed having him along......it is a great time for us to just talk and enjoy each other's company without interruption.
I woke up at 6am, and decided I should just get myself in the shower, and get on the road. So I did.
I was in Rutland by 7:30, and as you can see, they still have a lot of snow in Vermont. This is Pico Peak, one of the many ski centers around.

This meandering water way followed me for miles and miles. I'd like to bring my kayaks here.








Check out this pick up truck........"I want a red truck. No, a blue truck. No, a yellow truck. Well, maybe a red truck...................."








My trip took me through Woodstock, Vt, which is one of my favorite little villages. There are so many really old houses in great shape. This one caught my eye...........ya' think???
It is called the "The Woodstocker Inn", Bed and Breakfast. If you go, tell them I sent you.
Holy moly.















This one seems to be missing the roof. I looked at it for a long time, and still couldn't figure it out.


This is Quechee Gorge. There are trails along the gorge, but I didn't have time to walk them today.

And here it is, the loom I drove 6 hours for.....whew. What a day.
It is a sweet little loom, and just what I wanted. My friend Chris is going to order me a sectional beam for it, and the strollers that make it easy to move it around. It came with this Leclerc bench, and a 12 dent reed.
I can't wait to weave some 8 shaft towels on this!!!





















It was a good day for a drive, I had a lot of things I needed to think about, and this was the perfect time. I didn't even listen to the radio much.

The word "boundaries" keeps bouncing around my head. Trying not to worry about decisions that I have no control over. Trying to remember that when your children grow up, they have their own lives to live, and they aren't going to take your advice, any more than you did when your parents offered it up. I can't prevent them from experiencing pain, no matter how much I love them.
This too shall pass. It is what it is.
And my favorite, by Mark Twain, " A man who carries a cat by the tail, learns something he can learn in no other way."

I am praying a lot lately, and I am working hard to let things go. If it doesn't belong to me, I have to let it go.

My mother and I came across this hot air balloon in Crandall Park the other day.
I wanted to see it go up, but had to go to work, and didn't have time to wait. But I can 'imagine' it going up, and with it, my worries, and my inclination to "fix" whatever is wrong for the people that I love.
Whoosh......can you hear the flame??
There they gooooooooooooooo...............

Weaving a life.

Can you tell I love this house???
I never get tired of taking pictures of it. Here you can see the '1790' over the door that my husband put up for me. The bluestone steps that you see in front of both doors were in a big pile of dirt when I first bought the house. I had them put back where they belong.
Something about this time of my life makes me very sensitive to perspectives. I think about them quite a lot. Just looking up at the peak of the house says it all. You think you know all about something, and then for some reason, you get to look at it from a different direction, and you realize that maybe you don't know all that much.
When the house was built, the busy highway was just a dirt road, and there were only a handful of other buildings nearby.
A new screen door is on my list of things to do.
My mother said that this kind of an opening in the fence, shielded by another piece of fence, is called a baffle. But when I looked it up, that is not the description of a baffle gate at all. So if any of you know what it is called, please tell me.
Someone suggested that we paint the barn red. I hope I didn't visibly shudder. I love these old barn boards. I would never paint them.
As you can see, I have lots of work to do outside. If only I could clone myself, one of me to weave, and one of me to do all the rest of the things I need to do.
Today when I was sewing and cutting blue jeans for an order, I was thinking about what I would write on my blog today.
This isn't it.
I was going to be brave, and tackle the subject of being a better person. I was going to talk about having things in your past that you wish you could undo, or at least do better. We all have something, don't we? Some part of our life that we look back on and silently grit our teeth. It might be years, or maybe months, or weeks, or maybe just an isolated instance of behavior that you wish you could take back. Something you said, something you wish you had said. Something done, or left undone. Maybe just poor judgment, being oblivious, being hardheaded, foolhardy. Whatever the case. Something. And as we get older, and life goes on, we have no reason to think about it. Except that every now and then, we are reminded of our limitations, and our failings. We are brought right back there to face ourselves once again. And it is a humbling, humbling experience.
That is what I was going to talk about.

Wavy Glass

Just one of those mornings.
It was a gray day from the get go. But I wanted to take my mother to the studio, to see the labyrinth, and so she could help me plan my "secret garden" around it.
She is not much on walking far, being of the mind that if it hurts, don't do it. And no matter how much I spew advice about dealing with arthritis, the bane of my family, both sides, she doesn't listen. Luckily, for me, I have my father's attitude. If it hurts, I get my hackles up, and take the stand that it isn't going to slow me down, stop me, or impede my progress. Not that it doesn't probably slow me down a bit, but not "so's you'd notice". :)
Everything is dry outside, but spring comes slow to the "north country", even in New York. The Adirondacks still have snow for crying out loud. Enough already.
This is the area behind my barn, where I am going to plant lots and lots of perennials, shrubs, trees, etc. My husband put a stockade fence across the lawn, to separate the front from the back, and that is where I am going to dedicate my efforts.
My mother was a gardener extraordinaire. She turned a blank, flat lot into a lush English garden, with her own two hands. The saddest thing for her, was getting too old and arthritic to keep it up. So I am encouraging her to dream this with me, help me to see what it will look like with paths winding through "rooms" made out of flowers. I hope she will. As I was describing my vision to her, I turned to her with a sudden realization, "OMG, I am becoming my mother."

When it is warmer, I will take her there and plop her in a lawn chair to watch me sweat. It won't be as good as her own endeavor, but hopefully, it will do her heart good.
Speaking of which, after we went to the studio, I took her shopping. She was ahead of me, and I went back a couple of aisles to get stuff to make a vegetarian chili that is to die for, my daughter Morgan's recipe, which I will share if you are interested. I actually called my daughter on my cell, and was asking her about the ingredients, and telling her one of my mother's annoying ways.
I came around the end of an aisle, to see my mother leaning over her cart, face red with a pinched and painful expression. When she saw me she said my name, and half heartedly waved to me. She said she felt like she might pass out, she didn't feel well at all. I sat her on a bench, checked out her groceries, and mine, and helped her to the car.
We got ourselves out of the store, and home, and on the way, she happened to add that she had chest pain. Nice time to mention that. Had I known that I would have left the groceries in the cart right where they were. Seems that no matter how many times my mother withholds information, I never smarten up and expect it. Duh.
After a nitro, and some rest, and eventually, some lunch, she felt much improved. Leaving me feeling like a total schmuck, for griping about her old age idiosyncrasies, and wondering if I will become my mother in those ways as well. Much food for thought. Too much thought for a Saturday morning.
It has been altogether a funny week. Wanting to plant flowers, but knowing that it was too soon. Weaving placemats first on this loom, then getting distracted, and finding myself upstairs weaving towels on another loom. Worrying that business was slow, then getting a really nice custom order that will be fun to make. Just basically feeling that spring fever kind of feeling, when you want to be everywhere at once doing it all. Or is that just a Hilary kind of feeling........that's what my husband would say.

If you notice the blurry sections in this photo, don't blame my novice skills, and no, I don't have Photoshop......it is actually just the wavy glass in the bedroom window. Almost all the windows in the house have this fascinating wavy glass, and I love it. It is why I don't put all new windows in the house. I can't bear to part with the old look.
Somehow there is a message here for me today......I am not sure I am getting it yet, maybe I am not ready. But it is there on the edge of my brain, just waiting. I am familiar with the elements, just not sure how they all fit............getting older, seeing things differently, being frustrated, life changing, resisting change, holding on to our comfort level, priorities, wavy glass.
Clear as mud, eh?

Naked Dining

Oh, alright......it's not exactly naked dining, and she is only 4 years old. I just couldn't resist.
It was all because she spilled her milk, and everyone was busy eating a delicious Easter dinner, and not all that interested in getting her a clean shirt.
I love this picture. Actually, I love any picture that shows children being totally absorbed in something. They are so intense, and so in awe of everything.

And then there are those moments.........magic marker? me?
How can you get angry at this face???
Isn't that why they made soap?
Oh, yeah, and she did her arms and legs while she was at it.

And here we are, having dinner, 9 adults and 4 children, lots of laughing, loud talking, and great food.
That's me with the dark red glasses.............am I becoming Sally Jesse Raphael??????????? Oh, God, say it ain't so.



And this is Luke, lying on the floor with his feet in the air, totally relaxed and happy.
All our holidays are better together, and they are always somewhat hectic and LOUD.
But I wouldn't change one minute of them.

Busy morning.

Are you entirely sure you want to tear this whole rug apart?????? Not that I am not enjoying every minute of it.
Brothers and sisters. So close, so protective of each other. Devoted to each other. I hope that they remember this when they grow up.
My three daughters are each almost 7 years apart, not very good planning on my part. When they were little, everyone used to tell me that they wouldn't be very close as sisters when they grew up, because they were too far apart in age.
Imagine that.
They are incredibly close, and it is such a special thing to watch.
I hope these two are the same.

A pile of Solmate Sock rugs is a pretty comfy place to take a snooze.
Or the floor, whatever. I'm easy to get along with.

And Miss Puss, well, any sunny spot will do.
And with all this going on all morning, a little weaving still got done. Sunny windows are the best.
Two days with the grandkids proves to me that I am well past the age for having children full time. But they are fun in short segments of time. They give me a better perspective.

Wicked Wednesday

I love this mirror, and when I took the photo, I forgot that there was a mirror behind me, so you get a glimpse of the window in the room to the right, in front of me, and the room behind me. Having this new camera, I am like a kid with a new toy.
How about a cuppa tea????
Because my mother is from England, we make tea in the pot. With a tea cozy. And the water has to be boiling......really boiling.....before you pour it on the tea in the pot.
I tend to drink too much tea. But I guess I could do worse things. I could use too much salt.
:)


A few years ago, when my husband and I were in Maine for a little getaway, we were driving up the coast one afternoon, and we happened on this garage sale. The house was quite nice, and the sale was set up in the attached garage. We wandered through some very interesting stuff, and we exchanged horrified looks when we looked at some of the prices on things......$250, $500, etc.
Then I saw this little cupboard, and I was intrigued. I looked at the price a couple of times. I blinked. I thought it said $1500, then no, $150........but no, it said $15..........FIFTEEN DOLLARS.
I didn't quite get it. I picked it up, and took it to the door, opened my purse to pay for it, fulling expecting to be told that $15 was a mistake. But nope, it was the right price, and I loaded it in the car. I don't really know who Maria Salzer was, but I keep lots of pieces parts in this little cupboard, it is very useful, and I like it a lot. I like to think that Maria Salzer would approve.

Yesterday, I was weaving a rug that had to be 108" long. I was using a 60" tape measure, and I got distracted, and measured it wrong. It turned out to be about 30" too long.
So today, I took it apart, row by row.
I imagined I heard my late friend, Shirley Simms, chuckle and say, "Idiot work."
Shirley was a weaver I met online several years ago. We became good friends, and emailed often. Sometimes we talked on the phone. She was a wealth of information about weaving, selling rugs, cooking, and life, in general. I went to Kentucky, and met her, and later she came to Kingsbury, and stayed for a week. We did a lot of weaving, talking, and laughing. She encouraged me along the way. She told me once that I was a better weaver than she was, and I was very touched by that. She told me to call her Flossie, because that was what her very best friends called her.
She died last year of bone cancer. I still miss talking to her, and every now and then, for no particular reason, I feel her presence, and imagine she is watching me, smiling, staying connected in her own way. Or perhaps it is just in my mind, but whatever, I just say out loud, "Hey Flossie, what's up, girl? I miss talking to you."

Which brings me to something that has occurred to me of late. Old friends. Everyone has them. People who you knew once, were close to once, and then lost touch with over the years.
Is it just me as I get older, or is this a common occurrence? That suddenly you wish you could just see an old friend, maybe just over a cuppa coffee, or a drink. Just to chat for a few. How are you? Are you happy? Where have you been all this time? Every now and then, I remember someone I knew in high school, in college, my first job, and I want to find them, call them, say......hey, do you remember me, because I remember you. And I want to touch base with you one last time. Maybe it is getting older, and there is the thought that you might not get to ever lay eyes on those old friends, if in fact you don't do it soon. Maybe it is just that, fear that you don't have forever, after all.

Skinny Bitch

I just read this book, and something that has been bothering me for some time has finally taken shape in my brain.
Quite some time ago, my husband cooked a prime rib for a holiday dinner, it was a huge piece of meat. He cooked it to perfection, medium rare. As he was slicing into it on the kitchen counter, my stomach began to roll. Something about it just reached inside me and made me feel violently ill. I didn't eat it. Even though he offered to cook it more for me, if that was the problem. I couldn't, and I knew that to try would not be pretty.
Since then, I have been alternately OK with meat, and not OK with meat. Sometimes I can eat it, and other times, the feel of it in my mouth is very uncomfortable. The thought of it takes me somewhere I don't want to go.
Beef, pork, chicken, it doesn't matter. The only way I can eat it without distress is if it has not maintained it's shape, if it is ground, or julienned, or something. That in itself is upsetting.
Enter Skinny Bitch.
Which I must tell you is NOT for the faint of heart, or for anyone who is easily offended. The authors are irreverent, and sometimes crass. But funny. And they make points that are somehow so simple, and so true, that they made me think I must be stupid not to have processed this information long ago. What they suggest for healthful eating might not be for everyone. They take it to the extreme side of healthy. But their argument about meat touched me where I live, and resonated to my core. It reaffirmed all the thoughts that had been creeping around my consciousness.
Now I am not promising that I will be 100% meatless, but at least for the next 30 days, I am going to give up meat. I want to know if I can do it, if I will miss it, if I will feel different, better, or the same. Part of me wants to do it because I know it is healthier. Part of me wants to do it because I don't believe we were intended to be meat eaters. But mostly, I want to do it because in my heart, I really feel that it is the right thing to do, for me.
My daughter came to dinner the other night, and by the time she left, she had read enough of the book to want to take it with her.
She called me the next day, to tell me that she was giving up meat for a 30 day trial, too. She is taking it to the next level, and giving up dairy, as well.
And she is giving the book to my middle daughter.
Oh, dear, what have I started??? :)
I can see into the future.........one meal for the men, one for the women.........we need a bigger kitchen!

Rainy day

Rainy day in the studio, and I LOVE rainy days. Call it crazy, but I have always loved the rain, even as a kid. People say it depresses them, but not me. It always makes me feel calm. I love the sound of it. I love watching it on the windows. I love everything about it.
Miss Puss, once again, holding up production. Tammy and I were weaving this 4x6 rug for an order, and she popped up on the loom, and started to pose. The more the camera flashes, the more she preens and rearranges herself. I swear she knows she is a star.
In between weaving and warping, I watered some plants. This is my sea onion. I have had it for many years, and started many more from it. It is probably my favorite house plant.
Put this warp on today for an order, but I put on 66 yards, so I will have a lot left to make rugs for the shop.
It was a very productive day, and now I am tired, and have to sit with a stack of show applications, and try to decide which ones, if any, I want to do.
And it is still raining.
And that's OK.

Welcome to Kingsbury

Today I took the back road to the studio. I wanted to take a picture of this for you. It is a very interesting thing, only about a mile behind my house. Supposedly, the Underground Railroad was active in this area, and one of the stories that came with the house, was that it was used to hide runaway slaves.

(click on any of these photos to make them bigger)
There is a room in the cellar, that looks almost like it has been soundproofed, with thicker wood walls and ceiling, but that is totally conjecture on my part. The house is in a perfect spot though, just 2 miles from the Champlain Canal, and the railroad.
Here is the hamlet of Kingsbury. Even though Rte 4 is a busy highway, it is a pretty quiet little place. This old barn has sat unused for quite some time. It has so much potential.
(No, honey, I don't have any "ideas" or "designs" on this piece of real estate.)
The big intersection. This used to be called "Kingsbury Street". George Washington came through here on his way to Fort Ticonderoga. He allegedly stayed in my house, and that is why the front bedroom was called the "President's room". My husband said, "yeah, but the president of what?" And then, "If George Washington had slept everywhere he is said to have slept he would have had to have lived to be 200 years old."

This Baptist church was built the same year as my house. I imagine that the same people probably worked on both.
The Kingsbury General store is of the same vintage. It is a great old place, and Bob and Carm make the BEST subs anywhere.

This is the parish house, and there are occasional community events here.


On my way back to the studio, I walked through the cemetery. There are some people buried here that lived in the house.
And here is my lovely old house, much the way it waas when it was built 220 years ago.
Now when I got back to the house, I was busy taking pictures, and I headed out behind the barn for a walk around the labyrinth, before I went home. With my camera around my neck, I focused on something, backed up, and tripped over a cluster of small stumps. For a second, as I lingered between being upright, and falling, I thought I was going to be able to catch myself. But that was not to be. I went down in a pile. I stayed still for a minute, evaluating the damage, and when I looked up, this is what I saw. So I decided to take a photo of it.......the top of the barn.

I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and decided to walk around the labyrinth anyway, pain or no pain. By this time, I needed the calming effects of it.
One thing I know, I am getting too old to fall that hard. Ouch.