Old Sturbridge Village

On this day they were dying wool from their own sheep. I could have stayed all day and watched just this. The dye they used came from the same items they would have used back then. The colors are beautiful:

I know what you're thinking....more vacation photos???? Well, yes...more vacation photos. But I promise to do my best not to bore you.

Old Sturbridge Village is a living museum tucked into the woods of a quiet corner of Massachusetts. That doesn't tempt you? What if I told you twice a year there is a nearby HUGE flea market that even Martha goes to???



Though I have been here too many times to count it still makes me emotional. I remember being in high school and wanting to work here (geek alert). And..um, I still do.


This particular trip was among my favorites. My brother Mike was there and he is my only sibling that I would guess would wear colonial garb and sweat under the hot sun, too. (I would insert a geek alert for him but he is very good looking and not quite as awkward as me. Though really we are very similar and it's a little creepy. Is this too many sentences to use parenthesis? When I said it was creepy my brother and I are alike I meant in the way we both have storage units filled with antiques and have an appreciation for old houses and junk like that. I think I must be at my limit now for parenthesis sentences.)

On that note I shall close my fourth grade version report on Old Sturbridge Village.

OSV is a fun place to visit. I recommend you go with your family. I liked it because they had a gift shop with candy.

PS The gift shop is really very nice...it has a small book shop which is among my favorites. The online version is here.

Procrastination Clean Up

Spending a chunk of time away from here seemed to have cleared the cobwebs in that part of my mind that has me start a project and not finish it. I have been going through the bin under my sewing table that holds several projects neatly rolled with their pieces labeled just waiting for that day when I open the cover and let day light in picking and choosing which one I will bring to life. Today it was the Study Hall Skirt from Anna Maria. It has been sitting all cut and ready to be stitched since April. Which if I may say on my procrastination scale is really not bad. There is a shirt in there with a button down collar--how old is that???

My review of this pattern is this:

I really like it.

It's good.

I will make it again.

Have you been looking in your procrastination bin? What's in there?

PS This fabric isn't Anna's...it's from Hancock's.

Pillow Talk

I was so inspired by Alicia's pillows I attempted to create some of my own. I have almost completed two and love the at-peace feeling sewing the squares gives me. Rather than take on piecing a quilt, the pillows have given my hands the satisfaction of making and left enough time in the day so I can indeed make dinner and open the mail.


Though secretly (shhhhh) I love the time warp feeling I get when I am consumed by a sewing project. Like I am in a vacuum tunnel and have no concept of anything except the whir of my machine and the faint 40's music playing in the background. My children don't look at these days with neglect-- rather they look at them as days of opportunity. Days that I will say yes to hauling out tubs of race car tracks and making sheet forts to have their lunch in. This rarely happens as my days often fill with must-do's before I have the chance to pin the tissue to my fabric.



I like how the pillows use scraps from a variety of past projects. It gives me a happy, nostalgic feeling.




Happy weekend to you!

A Loving Comparison

My husband's family has weathered many a New England winter near the water. Mine has spent many winters huddled around woodstoves more inland. I sometimes envision our childhoods being entwined without our ever being aware. Traveling similar country roads around and around until one day we met. It's ironic this ever happened as when he was three he lived on a tiny island of the coast of Northern Maine and I lived on one of the Hawaiian islands. Geographically it would be difficult to be farther apart while still being in the States. This notion always makes me smile, a journey in life straight from God that is ongoing even as I write this.

I like the past. I have never been tired of living in old colonial homes and envisioning the candlelit nights that spanned decades and decades in the same rooms we pass the time in.

So anyhow what's the Loving Comparison, you ask? I will share his and her photos of beautiful Connecticut and the areas we are from. Even though they are really not very far apart. Even though it may be a bit boring for you. If anything my husband will enjoy these pictures which inspires me to maybe tell him going on vacation without him wasn't the same as I really missed him throwing me into the hypothermia-inducing ocean water even though I always act like I'm mad. Sigh.

his: an old whaling ship being renovated:

hers: a beautiful school steeped in tradition and ivy

his: a nearby home straight from a Charles Wysocki puzzle




hers: a well kept colonial at the base of the hill where I grew up. The boy that lived here and my brother burned up 11 acres behind this house on accident.

his: I love these peaks atop ocean houses. I envision the hours a wife would spend looking out waiting for her husband to return from the sea. She would be so happy to see his ship coming in she would run outside to the wharf and hug him even though he smelled like fermenting whale blubber.

ours: our wee boy tickling his Grammie

I love this flag.

hers: Seeing the hydrangeas in bloom made me happy.

his: a red barn and a little boat.

ours: a little girl who has anchored our hearts. (insert corny snort/laugh here)

This post took me like five hours. It's not funny!

Home Again, Home Again, Home Again

Hesitantly we drove away from the smiling faces of our extended family and the stately colonial houses keeping watch over the ocean. We watched as the leafy green trees waved their branches beckoning us to stay longer until mile after mile, hill after hill the trees gave up to the flat bleached out grassy plains of Texas. The hot sun was here to welcome us the moment we emerged from the car. Nonetheless we were happy to reunite with our own beds and showers and the comfort of our clutter.

It is a strange and sometimes raw emotion to leave Connecticut. When I merge onto that first highway that heads West it feels weird. Like I am going the wrong way.

I belong there. Amongst the cobblestone footpaths that will eventually lead to the water.

We are fueled by the happy memories we have fresh in our minds. Hopefully they will last long enough to provide comfort until next summer. We came home with the affirmation that yes the kids are growing too fast and with an infinite amount of love and good wishes sent to Ken.

We also came home with an infinite amount of new freckles. Gotta love those things.

I've enjoyed catching up on some of your blogs. It's like reading a good book and not wanting to put it down.