fret-free sunday

For the first time in over a week, I will not be spending much of the day fretting about where to find nine matching windows. Because as of 9 AM this morning, I know exactly where to find them:

They are lined up on the screenporch!

The building of kneewalls will commence at 9 AM tomorrow.

~~~

After the delivery truck had gone, 

I worked with a light heart.

Even during the babies' hoof-trimming,

which is not a favorite task for anyone involved.

The sun was almost shining,

the air was almost not cold.

There was plenty of time for visiting,

especially with Acer and Betula.

I told them all about the windows.

The mood was quietly festive.

There may have been some spontaneous singing.

"Is that what that was?

I thought someone was grinding stumps." 

"Don't listen to Betula!

I love it when you sing!

And then we have carrots!"

little Vinca: Why was that big truck here?

Betula: It was delivering windows.

Vinca: Why do we need more windows?

Acer: They aren't for us.

...silence...

Vinca: What? I don't understand. Isn't there a building project going on?

Acer: Yes, but it's not something for us.

...silence...

LeShodu: The world has gone mad. Fortunately, our hay supply has not been affected. Let's eat.

~~~

Happy Sunday, everyone! Let's eat!

~~~~~

notes from the screenporch

A fragment of music from my parents' piano bench,
seen thousands of times in my childhood.
No recollection of ever hearing the song.

A few notes on last weekend's clearing-out of the screenporch.

It was A Task.

There was Stuff.

Much of it was there for good reason.

Since I built the screenporch, it has been one of my favorite places to be, from early Spring through late Autumn. It's my dye-simmering spot, my potting shed, my library and writing space. When visitors stop by, we sit on the screenporch and share the view. I knit and listen to audiobooks on the screenporch. It's where I did Drawing August this summer.

I more or less live out there.

Oak galls for dyeing,
collected on many walks with Piper.
Simmering while the cleaning went on.

In the years when I could sleep on a camp mat, I slept on the screenporch. Now I have one of my LaFuma recliners out there for resting my joints between chores.

Piper enjoys the screenporch, too. She snoozes on Grampy's Chair, or stretches out beneath my worktable, keeping an eagle-eye on the driveway and road below, and announcing anyone who crosses the boundary between the two.

my work table, mid-clean-up

But that Piper! 

Do you know what she does? She leaves all her gardening tools and plant pots and buckets of dyes and her stored portfolio slides and boxes of old paperwork all piled up in teetering towers in one corner of the screenporch! What a mess!

Just kidding, Piper!
Except for the box of your toys, it's all my stuff.

Last weekend, I spent many hours completely clearing out the porch. So that I would not lose momentum and get lost in minutiae, I decided that whenever an item beckoned me down Memory Lane, I would just take a quick snapshot and Move On. It worked very well!

flashback to my Master's research

I had to get it done, because I had a deadline.

Monday morning, a long-pondered project began:

turning the screenporch into a many-windowed room comfortable enough to be used and enjoyed year-round.

My goal is to make it my bedroom this Winter, so I can wake up watching the sun rising through the trees. I have a strong feeling that this will be an uplifting and encouraging way to begin the Winter days.

Sounds likely, doesn't it?

Here's hoping!

I've hired a fellow to do probably 85% of the work, which is a reversal of the way I built the screenporch in 1997. Then, I designed the porch but hired a licensed carpenter to make sure things were done "to Code" and to do the parts I had absolutely no idea how to tackle, like tying the roof of the porch to the roof of the house. But I did a lot of every part of the actual construction, from the ground to peak and everything between.

This time, well. I've redesigned the porch, and I've been sourcing materials and doing a lot of prep work, but the construction will be out of my hands. I'm going to try to just step back and enjoy it.

I'll let you know how that goes.

~~~~~

firsts

First fire of the season.

It's been in the low 30s (F) all day today, but more than that, it's been blowing up a gale since last night and I'm hoping very much that no trees come down in a difficult place. Seemed like a good day for a fire in the woodstove. Piper agreed. She is almost asleep standing up in this picture.

~~~

My big task for this weekend:

a total clearing-out of the screenporch.

Made big progress on Friday, but dropped the ball yesterday

when it was raining and raw all day.

And today, well.

This nice fire can't watch itself burning, now can it?

Erm, maybe I'll get out there in a little while.

~~~

But not yet, because I have another "first" to share!

Years ago, an online yarn order arrived with a "bonus" hank of what I think falls under the heading of "art yarn." It's got alternating sections of tightly-spun single ply and completely unspun fiber. Like this:

Aren't the colors lovely?

I saved it for a planned venture into needle felting.

Someday.

At the Vermont fiber festival, one little gift I bought myself was a set of three felting needles. These are little L-shaped needles with a roughness that helps "felt" the fibers together. Do you know about felting? It's what happens when friction or temperature (or both) causes the scales on animal hairs to  grab onto each other and pull the fibers tightly together. Forever. Have you ever accidentally shrunk a woolen sweater? That's felting. (Some would argue that shrinking a woolen fabric is more accurately called "fulling," and I would not disagree, because life is short.)

The other day I decided to break out the new needles and try making a felt button.

I cut some of the unspun sections and gently pulled them apart a bit more:

And then I shaped them into a soft lump of wool, put the lump on a thick piece of packing material, and started stabbity-stabbing away. And soon it began to look like a button:

I've made four buttons now, trying different things each time:

different size, shape, thickness, blend of colors.

Here's the most recent, with the needle:

I've already managed to break one of the needles!

Good thing there were three in the set.

After years of thinking about it, the incentive to try needle felting right now is that one of my WIPCrackAway projects, a neckwarmer, requires two buttons. None in my button tin seemed right. And I have not found any for sale that were 1) right for the project, 2) of reasonable price, and 3) made in Not China.

I thought of trying to make buttons with wood (of course), but there has been so much rain lately, the branches in the brush pile are soaked through. So I'm playing around with making felt buttons instead.

All the time I thought about needle felting, I never planned to make a utilitarian object. I imagined little figures of animals or plants, or landscapes "painted" with fiber. And maybe that will come. But for now, I'm having a lot of fun making simple fuzzy buttons.

And if I make one that seems "just right" for the neckwarmer, then I will try to make another for a set.

No hurry, though...

It's really good fun.

~~~~~

rainy or not

Autumn continues!

Between recent days of rain and strong wind, there has been the welcome gift of dazzling sun. Clever Piper does not waste an opportunity to bask in the doorway of the screenporch, at a comfortable distance above the saturated ground:

On such sunny days, the few remaining garden plants can be pulled up, and either added to one of next year's garden beds or shared out amongst the goats and hens.

Rainy Day Projects have been getting more attention. Some are routine indoor tasks, like housework (seriously necessary at this point, I'm embarrassed to admit), and, more happily, a little more WIPCrackAway knitting:

But some Rainy Day Projects can be tackled in the sheds or barn. Which is nice, because I can't even see the housework from there.

Months ago, I found the tangled pieces of a garden cart at the dump. My plan was simply to salvage the wheels and axle, then take the remaining odds and ends back to the dump. But once home, I realized many of the metal frame pieces were semi-attached. Maybe...I could rebuild an entire cart?

All summer, I've been using a sadly rusted-out wheelbarrow (lined with plastic feedbags, which actually turned out to be fabulous carriers for loose materials going to the VRB!) and postponing the garden cart project, which had all the earmarks of an endeavor that would require multiple unplanned trips to a hardware store and possibly a lumberyard.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to admit that the tangle of parts was a bit intimidating, and rather than waste a lot of time trying (and ultimately failing) to reconstruct something, I should simply bite the bullet and buy a new, heavyduty wheelbarrow.

I wish I had taken this step sooner!

Because...

well, have you bought a wheelbarrow lately?

I looked at a few ordinary wheelbarrows. Nothing special.

The prices averaged two hundred dollars.

For a wheelbarrow.

I didn't even get as far as looking to see if they were made in Not China, which is usually my first step in shopping.

The very next rainy day, I completely dismantled the tangle of garden cart pieces, and started the process of trying to cobble together something useful. I may not succeed, but there is now a pretty strong incentive to try. Here in Goat World, $200 = 40 bales of hay.

Wish me luck!

~~~~~

autumn

It's here.

First, there were small indicatons.

But now, it's hard to miss.

Even from a distance.

Even if you don't look right at it.

I love Autumn, I do.

I wish it would go on and on and on.

Because as much as I try to be in the moment,

every now and then - 

like today, when I was sweeping rain out of the barn

and suddenly thought, "soon this will be snow"...

every now and then - 

like yesterday, stacking stovewood,

when I suddenly thought of the armloads

I'll soon be carrying in, after chores, day after frigid day...

well, every now and then, for just a moment,

I think of the coming Winter

with something less than a joyful heart.

I know it's coming,

and I hope I will love it.

But I know I love Autumn.

~~~~~