Summer Flowers 07-10-23

 

A really bright lantana hedge.

The smell of lantana immediately brings to mind my grandparents house in Highland  Park/ Los Angeles during WWII when my sister and I lived with them.

Their house was about 30 steps up from the street with one terrace that was filled with lantana bushes.  It was my secret hiding place when I wanted to just read  undisturbed.  So the fragrance is a somewhat comforting one. 

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I love the true blue of Lily of the Nile (agapanthus)But they do come in different values.  Mine have  not produced  many blossoms this year, perhaps the lingering cold and the shade they now receive. 

So delicate, the tiny lowers gathered in globes which delight the hummers. 

Star Jasmine hedge abundant with blossoms.  The fragrance is intoxicating.
  

Artificial fragrance, such as perfumes and laundry products just kill me, but natural fragrances are a delight. 

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Money Laundering 07-13-20

I am not new to money laundering.   In my preteen years our stepdad would let us take all the money in his wallet/pockets to launder it.  I don't know why, we just wanted to do it.  We would fill a dishpan with hot water and detergent and dump in all the paper money and coins, swishing it around and actually scrub  some of the coins with a fingernail brush.   After rinsing we dried everything with old towels and then ironed the paper money.  When we returned everything he gave us something, maybe a quarter.   I think this happened several times during one summer, but I don't really remember.  

In my car I keep change in the pocket made by the handle on the driver's side and use it for drive thru coffee and sometimes tolls.  At one time I put it in a Baggie, but that was inconvenient so I just dump it in.  But last week I discovered that water (or coffee?) had gotten in there and the coins were corroded and some were stuck together.   Yuck!  I dug them all out and put them in a dishpan, which caused me to remember my previous money laundering experience.  

There was quite an amount totaling almost $15 - quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies, a paperclip and a safety pin.  

The pennies were the worst and I gave them two consecutive soaks in vinegar with salt and still had to scrub some to identify them as pennies.   I didn't need to make them "like new", just clean enough to know they are pennies.  

Since the plastic Baggie didn't work well and just dumping them in created a problem I decided to make a Tyvek "bin" to fit in the space so I could remove all the coins at once. 

i just used an old Tyvek envelope, measuring and folding and sewing it together.  Looks like it will work well and I won't have sticky coins if liquid should get in with the coins.  

This was a little side "adventure" that made me feel good because I had solved a problem and created something useful.  In these days of the isolation it was a good project for me.  Simple pleasures.... and all. 

Now to get back to several projects in progress that I keep avoiding.  Maybe this small success will lead to more. 

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Thursday Thoughts 04-30-20

Here are a few more "treasures" I cannot part with.  Maybe I should title this "Thursday Treasures" rather than Thursday Thoughts!   I imagine these items are at least 100 years old and have belonged in my family for all those years. 

Once upon a time restaurants served butter on individual tiny plates called butter pats.  They are about 2 1/2" in diameter and generally held just one pat (a TBLS) of butter.  These are from a diner or some such establishment, although sets of fine china could also include these little plates.  I did not realize until a few years ago that the pat on the left and the Spencer's cream pot have the same black and red pattern. They may or may not have been acquired together.  The pat on the right is a very common pattern from those days. 

This little pot with the name Spencer's, which was my maiden name, was used to serve cream for coffee or tea.  I have always supposed that Spencer's Restaurant was in Portland, Oregon, where I spent my early years, but I don't know.  All through my 81 years it has held toothpicks, in my mother's cabinet and in mine.  I do have a male Spencer cousin and I spoke to him about this one time, but he didn't seem very interested and I have no contact with any of his children.  So I suppose this will appear at the Salvation Army store when I have used it for the last time.  I hope a Spencer finds it and enjoys it.  

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Thursday Thoughts 04-09-20

It is citrus time in Southern California and there are many neighbors willing to share their abundant crop.  One lady posted on Next Door that she would deliver oranges to anyone who wanted them.  I said yes and she dropped a bag of eight of the best oranges I have ever eaten.  But I am not a connoisseur of oranges because if I eat too many I develop a rash.  But, OMG, these were perfection.  I didn't juice them, but ate them over the sink with the juice running down my chin.  Sooo good.  

Then this image appeared on Facebook and I had to laugh.  I am frequently amused by the things from my past, and sometimes present, that younger people do not recognize. 

This was an irreverent post with some raunchy answers.

But in my cupboard I have this.....

Not exactly like the antique they show, but it works the same way.  And it was my mother's.  I was dismissive of it after my first visit to California when I was about 4 years old.  My aunt had a "mechanical" squeezer that I cannot find an image of to show you.  But it had a crank that was pushed down after putting a half an orange on the cone shape and closing the lid.  It seemed very modern and efficient to me and I was thrilled to be allowed to push the crank with some help from Aunt Vernice.  It was the wrong time of year to pick oranges off of trees, but it was fascinating to think of it.  

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KoKo is home and Christmas lights are going up! 11-12-19

KoKo had a lovely weekend with friends Cherie and Jim, they even let him sleep with them!  He is such a happy dog and just loves everyone.  I am glad to have him home, I hadn't realized that I had not been home without him much in the last three years.  It was lonesome around here. 

But I finished the quilt I was working on and at some future time will post a picture.   I found a few places I missed in the foliage and will have to do some more stitching there.  

On our walk tonight there were two houses with Christmas lights up - ALREADY!   This one has the "icicle" lights and the other has colored lights, but their garage was open so I will take a picture some other night.  

Today has been my sister's 84 birthday.  Hard to believe.  I doubt that anyone in my family reads this blog and sister doesn't do computers.  But, anyway, Happy Birthday to Ellamarie Kathryn Spencer Goleman of Portland, OR!

Looking back 06-10-17

I am one of those people who likes to look back to see what was happening on any given day in the past.  I don't record something every single day, but the advent of computers and digital cameras has given me a photo record on Picasa that stretches back to a few pictures from 2005 and some very old shots that have been scanned in at different times.  I have boxes of photos and slides going back from before I was born, but not the energy or inclination to go through them and scan them into the digital files.    Maybe some day in the future I will find time and interest. 

This is a week with several special memories.  Fifty-five years ago on June 9, 1962, I married my first husband with all the wonderful future stretching out before us.  We were divorced in 1971.  Such mixed memories of those nine years.  In 1991 I took my first class from Ruth McDowell (whose birthday is June 8th), one of many over the years.  A great teacher, a lovely friend, and a large part of the Thomas Contemporary Quilt Collection.   On June 6, 1997 I started being "nanny" to Corky, the Poodle Prince.  He had a great influence on my life and took me on many adventures I wouldn't have had without him.  He wasn't quite a year old and rather a handful at first.  He died in November 2013, leaving me bereft of a lover in my life.   A job taken in August 2016 by KoKo. 

Here I am with my sister, Ellamarie, taken in Portland, OR, sometime in 1941, I think.  Do I look like I am three-something and Ellamarie is six-something?   I had bangs and pigtails because my hair is as straight as hair can be.  Ellamarie has flowing locks because she inherited the natural curly hair gene. 

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Saturday Stories - Family Pets 07-16-16

Diane’s family always had pets; an array of cats and a few dogs, bunnies, and Pedro the rooster.  Bingo was actually her sister Marie’s dog – a black cocker spaniel that their dad added to the family before Diane was born.  He lived a long, indulged life.  When Diane was in about the 8^th grade she brought home a lost puppy who lived in a “Fluffo” box for a period of time and acquired the name of Buffo.  He was a Heinz variety sort of dog, all legs and long tail and floppy ears.  Diane’s mother would open the door to the upstairs and say, “Buff, go get Diane.” and Buff would fly up the stairs and leap onto the bed, licking and sniffing and bouncing until Diane was out of bed – grumbling all the way. Buff was a complete clown who took a secret delight in wiping everything off the coffee table with his long, heavy tail.   When Diane graduated from high school and moved to California, Buff stayed at home.  He was joined by Mr. Pennypacker, a part Chihuahua mutt who turned up on the porch one icy winter night, whimpering and asking to be let inside.  He stayed for the rest of the winter and then went his way. But in the fall he came back and stayed another winter and then left and came back another winter.  So, he acquired his name after the traveling salesman who had several families in different towns.   Finally Penny just stayed all the time and was Diane’s mother’s defender in all things.  Once Diane raised her hand in demonstrating something to her mother and Penny about took her hand off.  He thought the hand was raised to strike.

And then there were the cats.  Diane’s stepfather was fond of cats and very good with them.  When the beloved Baby was caught by a dog who ripped her stomach open and was rushed to the vet, the stepdad took care of her with such loving care that she survived and lived to a good old age.  Bunny was a white kitten that Diane brought home, so adorable with pure white fur and a pink nose and paws.  But she was a bit of an idiot and was always crawling into places she shouldn’t and getting stuck.  They would hear her crying and finally locate her and dig her out.  Down the furnace vent one time she was almost a goner. 

All these loving animals who shared the life of the family are gone now, along with mother and stepfather.  But sweet memories remain

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KoKo Ota at six months  August 2014

Conversation on the Porch is the first quilt I purchased from Ruth, way back in 1994.  I think it is my favorite of all the Ruth quilts.  Of course, that is sort of like choosing one's favorite child, but this holds such a place in my heart.  Mostly because it is such a wonderful, expressive image, but  also because my late husband was one of three sons whose family went to the SCarolina beach in the summer, renting a "cottage" that had five rocking chairs on the screen porch overlooking the ocean.  The image of those three adult men with their parents all sitting and rocking is indelible in my mind.  They are all gone now, so all I have is memories and a few pictures.  And this amazing quilt.

"Conversation on the Porch"  Ruth B. McDowell  1993  54"W x 37.5L

Cotton fabrics, cotton batt, cotton thread.  Machine pieced and quilted.

 

All of the chairs are the same, but have been moved to overlap and show different positions.  The seats and chair backs are all the same fabric which Ruth has quilted with one of the fancy stitches on her sewing machine.  Notice the curved piecing on the porch which gives a sensation of motion and the extended values of the chair backs which does the same.  As she does sometimes, Ruth has inserted some traditional blocks referring back to the origins of her methods.  This quilt hangs frequently in my house and I miss it a lot when it goes traveling, as it has to Vermont this past week.

 

I hope you enjoyed a week of Ruth's quilts.  Congratulations to those of you who were able to go to Vermont for Quilt Festival and were lucky enough to hear Ruth's presentation. 

Thank you to those of you who have written and made comments on my blog, it has been fun "talking" to you about my favorite teacher and quilt maker.   

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http://delquilts.blogspot.com/2008/02/ruth-mcdowell-quilts-02-05-08.html

Saturday Stories 04-31-16

It was a great camping/fishing trip with Diane’s husband, two sets of aunts/uncles and some cousins.   Stanley Lake in the Sawtooth Mountain Range in Idaho was one of their favorite places to go and the fish were abundant that year.  The guys would go out fishing for trout as soon as it was daylight and quickly had their limits.  They lurked about the campground waiting for new campers to arrive.  Soon they were making friends and generously offering the new campers some fresh caught trout for their lunch or dinner.  As soon as the trout were out of the coolers they were off in the boat to fish for another limit.  It was, of course, illegal, but they had SUCH a good time. 

This was also the trip that one aunt, one cousin and Diane drove out to the highway to have a shower at one of the places where showers were available.  Trouble was they only had three quarters and the shower was only something like five minutes – not enough to wash bodies and hair for three adult women.   So, everybody took all their clothes off and put in one quarter, giggling and laughing they each jumped in one at a time and got wet.  The first one started soaping/shampooing as soon as she was out then the second and finally the third.  As soon as the water stopped they put in another quarter and started rotating in and out to rinse off.   Finally, the last quarter dropped and they rotated in and out again to get off the last of the soap.  It is hard to describe how hilarious it was, Diane had never taken a shower to such a short time.  And neither had aunt or cousin.  They would never have made it in the Navy.

 

McGown Peak reflected in Stanley Lake, Idaho

 

This might have been Diane, who was oil painting at the time and painted this exact view.

Pictures from Google

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Monday Browsing 09-26-11

Well, I haven't actually been doing much browsing. But I have a few sites to suggest.

This one came from my friend Patty who seems to frequently come up with sites that have interesting photos. This one has pictures taken in the late 1930s and early 1940s using COLOR slide film. The pictures live at the Library of Congress. The detail is amazing, but what strikes me (and probably everyone who looks at them) is the color - my brain has a hard time accepting such images in color, since all the pictures I have seen from this era have always been in black & white.

http://extras.denverpost.com/archive/captured.asp

The B&W picture below is from 1941 or 1942 and shows my family in front of the house my dad was building.  The only colors I am sure of are the Douglas fir trees, the brown house in the background, the green Plymouth, Buddy (the brown dog on the left) and my uncle's dark blue sailor suit.

 

Ellery, my dad; Grandmother Ella, Grampa Wilce, Aunt Vernice, Uncle Gordan.  And, on the running board of the Plymouth, my (about) 3 year old self. 

 For further contrast check this site: 

http://vithefiddler.posterous.com/pictures-of-america-1935-1939

Weaverville, CA 08-17-11

We drove over to Weaverville today - Corky and I and his parents.  It isn't very far - through wooded hills with a few houses along the way and many narrow roadways off into the trees.  I am surprised at the number of logging trucks that pass the motel.  LOTS of traffic in addition to the those noisy beasts - pickup trucks, delivery trucks, sedans - and due to construction between here and Redding the traffic comes in bunches as the road is narrowed to one lane with the vehicles bound in the other direction waiting until the flagman allows them through.  In these modern days there really isn't a flagman, but a guy with a  walkie-talkie or a cell phone or something, who calls to his counterpart on the other end of the construction zone to tell him to let the cars through.  I fondly remember the few times when, as a child going to grandma's house, we were actually the last car to go through and were honored to carry the flag to the other end and pass it over to the flagman.  Such a treat!   

I was in Weaverville many years ago - maybe 45 - and I vaguely remember these spiral staircases.  The town looks much as I remember it, but there are newer buildings on the outskirts.  A modern strip mall with quite a large supermarket and a Starbuck's!  We didn't stop there.

 

This building is directly across from the one in the first picture and there are several more of these stairs along the main street. 

This sign is affixed to the building near the staircase - it explains the odd circumstances that created these landmarks.  Click to enlarge.

We asked at Olsen Stoneware for a restaurant that would allow Corky in his stroller on a patio and were directed to the Garden Cafe which has a lovely covered porch. 

Such a dear little guy - everyone stops to remark and ask questions.  This is a different stroller than the one he keeps at my house (usually in the back of my car).  His mother takes him running or walking in this one which is much more maneuverable.  He checks everything out, he is undoubtedly the nosiest dog I have ever known, then curls up and goes to sleep.  He knows he won't get anything to eat, so he doesn't beg.  At home, of course, it is a different matter!

 

The couple at the next table were served whilst we were looking at the menu and the smell was so wonderful I couldn't resist ordering the same thing.  It is all sauteed veggies the bottom layer is potatoes, then all the veggies, then melted cheese and finally topped with a slice of yellowtail tuna. Sherry and I split an order, but she eats very little, so it was sort of a 70-30 split.  And I brought home leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

 

Such a handsome couple dining in the shade on a very hot day.  It was 100F here at the motel when we returned from our drive.

 

Jim stuck with the tried and true and ordered a Reuben which looked very tasty on a specialty bread.

We will be moving on tomorrow.  I'll go north and the three of them will return to SCalifornia.  Don't know where I will be tomorrow night, but I will try to blog regardless.

Hard boiled.... 05-14-11

When I was a child my mother would mark eggs after she hard boiled them.  We always had lots of eggs because everyone kept chickens in the 30s and 40s - a saving grace during WWII.  At some point mom started drawing faces on eggs when she put one in a lunch bag - she was a gifted artist who, as a teenager, hand-tinted photos for photographers.  This was, of course, before color film.  I picked up her egg drawing habit and have always drawn faces on hard boiled eggs - just for the fun of it, something I do for myself.  I change "styles" every now and then - it just happens.  Currently I seem to be channeling Picasso's less talented sister. 

 

I always buy brown eggs - just because I love their colors.  Once in a great while I find araucana eggs in lovely soft blues and greens - I can hardly bear to break them.

A few years ago I discovered a copy of Corky's daddy's professional magazine with a cover full of "eggheads".   A completely different style from mine - I rarely give anyone hair. 

The blue polka dot chicken with fuzzy worm is a refrigerator magnet - fabric fused to the magnets you cut.  

 
Great eyelashes - with a sort of dewy look.
I use only Sharpies for this .

"Watermelon Chickens" Ruth McDowell 02-20-11

It is pitiful how my memory keeps receding as the years go by.  I had a memory test at my doctor's office and I am down to 57 on a scale of 1 to 100.  It is a wonder I know where I am half the time.  But the doctor says that is very acceptable at 72, so I try not to worry.  However, I went through the TCQC records and have discovered 34 quilts that I have not shown on this Blog.  Thirty-four!  I find that amazing.  So, I will be reaching back, sometimes into the last century, to feature those quilts I have neglected.  I purchased this quilt in January 2009.

"Watermelon Chickens"  Ruth B. McDowell  2008  58"W x 31.5"L

Machine pieced and quilted.  Commercial cotton fabrics from everywhere.

Ruth's statement about this quilt: "These hens took on a life of their own when I started rummaging through my fabric stash. A wild array of old and new fabric, from all over the world. Possibly a new breed of calico chicken. I love the watermelon fabric (which I've had for years) that I used for much of the background. It was surprisingly difficult to decide exactly where on the print to cut each piece."

Such a vast array of fabrics - prints and batiks, from Africa, Australia, Japan, Indonesia.

Only Ruth would look at Kaffe Fasset's Swiss Chard fabric and think "Chicken tail feathers!"

 

The feet are sturdy, but detailed, and have the texture of chicken feet.

This quilt attracted me for many reasons, especially that it is so very, very Ruth McDowellish.  Also going back to my childhood when my maternal grandmother raised chickens and always tossed scraps in the chicken yard.  They loved watermelon, as did I.  The watermelon fabric also brings back memories of the years during WWII that my sister and I spent in California with our paternal grandmother.  Fabric was rationed and difficult to find, so when it was available our grandmother and aunt purchased what they could.  They found a partial bolt of watermelon fabric, very much like what Ruth used as the background in this quilt, and we all had watermelon dresses or camp shirts - Little G'ma, Aunt Vernice, Ellamarie, Delmay, Gail and our dolls!   I remember a picture (black and white, of course) of us in our new dresses.  Maybe I will come across it one day.   

Family and a great quilt exhibit 01-08-11

I can't resist posting one more of those old pictures .  There I am front and center.  The lady is my mother Colleen and my curly-haired sister is standing in front of her.  I haven't a clue who the other children are.  There are two names written over their heads - Lee and Mary, not our family names.   I think Ellamarie and I are in our California dresses made by Aunt Vernice.


The Quilt Show posted images from the current exhibit of quilts from the Marbaum Collection of Hilary and Marvin Fletcher at the San Jose Museum of Quilts & Textiles. 
http://www.thequiltshow.com/os/blog.php/blog_id/3411
The exhibit ends Jan30th - go to see it if you can. 
 

Looking back 01-06-11

 
Delmay and Ellamarie Spencer, sisters - about 1941 - '42.

This picture was taken in front of the chimney on the house my father was building in Portland, Oregon.  He died  of kidney failure in the fall of 1942, so the picture must have been taken sometime that summer.  My hair is in pigtails,which was my hairstyle until I was in the 8th grade when I went behind every one's back and had it cut in a duck's butt.  My sister's hair is naturally curly - still!
I don't have much contact with my family.  They mostly live in Portland - my sister lives in the house our father built.  Every year or so I hear from my sister or her daughter, who has a family of her own.  My sister never wanted me to have anything to do with her kids (four boys & one girl) and I have lived in California for fifty years, so I don't actually know any of them   For some unknown reason one of her sons, who has a family of his own, has become interested in photos from years ago.  The son's wife called me yesterday, I did meet her once years ago, to ask about family photos.  I only have a few and haven't looked at them for years - not even sure where they are right now.  She e-mailed about twelve photos, most of which I have never seen before.  I took some time today to try to caption the photos - a not-fun trip down memory lane.  Funny how looking at those images brought back memories that have been hidden for decades.   I wish they were still hidden - after all these years I can't go back and make connections again.  What a downer this is.  

Organizing/Digging Out 06-19-08

My generous friend Liz came today and gave me another six hours of her time and sweat to get my house in order. I'm going to owe her BIG time. I had to stand on a stool to take a photograph so the table didn't block the lower shelves, which makes the bookcases look like they have been working on their upper body strength. Sorry.

I currently have five boxes of books to sell or otherwise dispose of and there are still some books, folders and magazines in a third bookcase which will be incorporated here. Plus we will probably have a few books from the office. Sometimes one must put new books some place even if they don't fit the category on a particular shelf, so they just go in any slot that will take another book. I'm hoping that all the quilting and needlework books will fit in these two cases.

On top of the left bookcase is a nice Raku vase my husband gave me and a picture of my mother when she was about 19 (in 1925). Pictures didn't come in color then, but her job was tinting photos in a photographer's studio. The few pictures we have that she tinted are quite wonderful, showing her talent in this occupation. I have her tinting brushes, porcelain palette and several books of the tinting papers - treasures from the past. I suspect that my father made the frame which hangs by side pivots, a style that was popular back then. It is wood with silver paint and still has the original paint and backing paper (getting a little raggedy).

The touch of the past Sep 29, 2007

Not long ago I was talking with a friend about the things we treasure that come from a parent or relative. Since then I have thought about what I have that most evokes my mother for me. This was her grater. I took it from the her kitchen after her funeral, before I returned to California. That was 35 years ago, but the grater is probably 60 or maybe 70 years old. I threw my box grater in the Goodwill box and have used this one ever since. And I think of Mom every time I use it.

When I count up the years that I lived 'at home' they are very few, only about twelve! It took her many years to forgive me for moving away from Portland after high school, however we eventually got on good terms. But, good times or bad, that mother connection is always there, isn't it? You are always part of her and she is always part of you. Regardless of the miles or years that separate you.

How amazing that some people have their mother in their lives for sixty or seventy years!