Sarah Lynn's Nature's Splendor: January 2020

Last Tuesday morning shortly after 6:30 a.m., just before sunrise, we headed for Lincoln, as Larry had a dentist appointment at 8:30 a.m.

Below is a grain truck in a field being filled with corn from an auger or conveyor that’s drawing from an on-the-ground grain-storage bag. Would you believe a 300-foot-long bag, ten feet in diameter, costs almost $1,000?!

The people at the dentist office took Larry’s temporary dentures to remake them into permanent back-up teeth, and told us to come back for them at 3:00. We had over six hours to kill.

Fortunately, Larry looks quite normal without his teeth.

“Just don’t laugh,” I tell him, which of course makes him laugh.

First, we drove to Fremont so Larry could pay for some cedar siding and a couple of large fuel tanks that he’d purchased online.

Then he suggested that we go to a Bernina store in Omaha and look at their machines, particularly to see if they might have a used Bernina Artista 200 or 730, as a quilting friend who lives in Texas has one she has offered to sell me, and I wanted to take a good look at one before deciding. My Artista has a couple of little glitches, such as not wanting to quit reversing after I let up on the backstitch button... and the screen isn’t big enough for me to see what I’m doing very well (plus, it’s black and white). I have to enter one letter at a time, save each row of print separately... and it takes soooo long to save my longer labels – 30-45 minutes, if I’m lucky... and sometimes it works all that time only to inform me that there’s too much data, so I have to erase a line and start the save all over again. Sometimes letters and lines overlap, and I don’t even know it until it stitches out. Really, really aggravating.

When I looked for the Bernina Store address on my tablet, I was amazed to find a store in Lincoln again, and it’s been there since 2017. The previous Lincoln store where I bought my 1300DC serger and Artista 180 had gone out of business after getting flooded out two times in short succession.

The owner himself – owner of both the Lincoln store and the Omaha store – showed me the Artista 200 they had on hand, and he also showed me the 790 and the big 880. ((...droool...)) He was so helpful and nice, I felt a little bit like a heel, taking his time and a brochure, saying “Thank you so much!” -------- and departing. 😑 But I promised I would be back one of these days, and I will, especially since I discovered that they have a nice selection of longarm thread.

Next, we went to Vintage Village Antique Mall, on the chance of finding some of those handmade linens quilter and teacher Kelly Cline uses so beautifully in her quilting.

The sidewalk out front was sloped downhill from the lot where we parked, and it was also sloped toward the center of the walk from both the storefronts and the curb. Furthermore, it was covered with a sheen of ice, satin-smooth. Now, I know the picture doesn’t really look that bad; so you’ll just have to take my word for it: it was bad.

Neither of our rubber-soled, thick-treaded shoes were doing a very good job on that stuff, but we made it.

I found nary a linen, but what a store this was! Bunches of little rooms, all connected with a labyrinth of hallways. There were a couple of nicely crocheted shawls, and I’ve seen pieces of crocheting used in quilts; but... these didn’t appeal, much.

It took us a while to make our way through all the rooms in that store. We found not a solitary thing we wanted, though we did feel like we’d been to a museum. So out we went again to wend our way back to the Jeep on that ice – this time, uphill.

It was approaching 3:00 p.m., time to return to the Affordable Dentures office. Larry had learned earlier that he would only get his redone temporary teeth back that day; he was supposed to come back the next day to get the permanent ones. Don’t they understand that some people have jobs, and actually need to go to work now and then? He didn’t return until today.

Well, he waited... and waited... and waited... and I, sitting out in the Jeep working on last week’s journal, could tell from the parade of people wandering in and out of the building that they were waiting, too. Turns out, the lab tech had been two hours late to the office for some unknown reason, and there was a big backup with patients. After waiting for an hour and a half, they told Larry he could leave, and they’d call him when his teeth were ready.

Since I’ve been needing everyday skirts, we went to a nearby Goodwill – and hit pay dirt: I found seven nice skirts, most of them soft denim, and a silky white blouse for church.

By this time, we were getting awfully hungry. It had been eleven hours since we ate breakfast, after all. So we stopped at a convenience store to get a couple of bananas and a smoothie that Larry could manage without teeth.

We headed back to the dentist office – and they called, just as we parked. Larry went in to get the teeth, which were now supposed to be permanent back-ups, well-made, perfectly fitting, and so forth.

They were the worst-fitting things he’s had during this entire year since he had his own teeth removed.

The tech, rushing to catch up, had made a mangled mess of these teeth that are supposed to now be permanent backups. The young woman who was fitting them for him gave effort to improve them, but she’s young and inexperienced, and simply couldn’t cope with the mess the tech had already made of them.

When we went to eat at Cracker Barrel after finally getting them at nearly 6:00 p.m., Larry had a terrible time eating, even though he got all soft foods. Before we went in, he whittled a sharp edge off those dentures with his pocketk

nife, hacker-surgeon-style; but even so, by the time he finished eating, his tongue was cut and bleeding.

This three-hour delay caused the forecasted bad weather to start before we even reached Seward, some 65 miles from home, counting the short jaunt we took to Shelby to fill the Jeep with E85. It runs sooo much better on that. Why doesn’t Columbus have any stations that sell the stuff, for pity’s sake?!

We stopped at a convenience store in Seward, and discovered that the rain was indeed freezing; the parking lot and sidewalk were getting slick.

On we went, a little slower, with a little more caution.

Question: If you have your lights on dim on account of the weather (fog or rain or snow), then upon meeting another car forget and accidentally flash your brights at him, is there a set number of further flashes that sends an ‘I’m sorry’ code? Or should you just turn your lights off and drive along in the dark as penance? 🤔🙃🥴

The windshield began icing up, and we took the heat off our feet and applied it to the defroster.

The last two miles before we got to our house were on one of the slickest roads we’ve ever traversed – and believe me, we’ve traversed some mighty slippery roads in our time. Whew.

When the Jeep Commander, festooned and bejeweled with aggressive new tires, can barely make it up the hill to our lane on Old Highway 81, that’s slick.

As we were turning off of Rte. 22 to come up the hill to our house, we could see a car and at least one, but more likely two, big trucks to the west, heading farther west. They had brake lights on, and appeared to be nearly stopped. The wind was blowing our Jeep a little bit sideways on the ice, so I can only imagine the troubles they were having, car and truck alike. I hoped they could make it to some place of safety.

We drove slowly and carefully down the lane... turned into our downhill-sloped drive... and discovered it was a glistening glaze of ice. We slowed to a near-stop to avoid hitting tree and house... decided it wasn’t wise to continue – and then discovered the Jeep would not stop.

It just continued on sliding, slowly and inexorably. We feared we would bump the stock trailer and the engine hoist at the bottom of the drive, and we knew good and well we’d never make it around the corner and into the garage, as the drive gets steeper as it rounds the corner.

We sat silently, sliding, and I imagined plowing over the engine hoist, ka-thumping off the end of the drive, careening on down the hill, and crashing headlong into the big garage Larry is building down there.

But finally the Jeep slid sideways enough that the rear wheels bumped slightly against the flowerbed, where the snow is fairly deep and there’s a lot of tall old flower growth, and that stopped it. With the freezing rain still coming down, though, we figured it would eventually just start sliding again, and could very likely crash on down the hill.

We gathered up our paraphernalia and managed to get out, hanging onto the Jeep, until we could get our feet into deeper snow. We shut the doors carefully, trying not to start the thing sliding again. Then we trudged to the front walk-in garage door by marching crunchity-clomp-crunch through the snow and the Autumn Joy sedum. Thank goodness I never cut those things down before spring! I leave them up because the little birds love the seeds, all winter long. I never knew that they’d provide good traction in an ice storm!

The seeds are now scattered all over the snow, and scrunched into it. But we stayed on our pegs.

We’d no sooner gotten inside than Larry remembered: his teeth were still in the Jeep in his empty smoothie cup. We laughed about it for a bit, but he really needed to get them and clean them and put them into the soaking solution. So he hunted up some de-icing salt, and scattered it in front of him all the way back to the Jeep. Then he put a liberal layer down in front of the tires, so the Jeep wouldn’t slide down the drive any farther.

The salt melted the ice so well, he went on putting it down, laying a track on down the driveway, around the corner, and right up to the garage door (and walking in the track as he went along, to keep from falling).

Then he went back, got in the Jeep, and managed to drive it around to the garage, and right on in.

After all that, he even remembered to bring his teeth in the house!

Thank goodness we weren’t 30 minutes later, or we might never have made it up Old Highway 81 to our house.

After church Wednesday night, we made Grant happy by delivering his stuffed fox back to him. I noticed when we were there that its arm was about to come off, so I asked him if he’d like me to take it home and repair it. He did, and I did, and the fox is home again. 🦊

On one of my quilting groups, we were discussing favorite childhood hobbies.

My favorite hobbies were reading, riding my bike, playing the piano, singing, hiking hither and yon, climbing trees, playing with my dog Sparkle and teaching her every trick I could think of, taking pictures with my cute little red 126mm camera (later graduating to a 110mm), and sewing.

When I was quite young, I would ride off on my bike through the town (population, about 15,000, back then in the late 60s), turning this way and that way until I was totally lost, and a great rush of almost-frightened adrenaline would hit. Then I would turn around and pedal like anything until I’d finally see something familiar, and work my way back home. My parents’ hair would’ve stood straight up on end, had they known how far afield I got.

A few times, I wound up at the far edge of town, on the opposite side from my house, staring in wonder at open cornfields or woods. Daddy and Mama probably thought I was just the other side of the block, playing with the neighbor kids!

Sometimes I did the same, sans bike, out in the mountains when my parents were cooking/setting up the camper/ napping/etc. Amazingly, I never got truly lost, nor bitten by a rattlesnake, nor attacked by a grizzly. And I somehow got myself back to the camper before Daddy and Mama got worried. My guardian angel was probably exhausted. (Not that angels ever get exhausted.)

I got my dog Sparkle, a German shepherd/collie mix, when I was 12. Here she is decked out in a couple of my Easter hats, lace, and some beads. I entitled the first picture, ‘Party Dog’, and the second, ‘Party’s Over’.

When I put the perky hat on her, I said in a bright, cheery voice, “Good dog!!! Such a good dog!!! You look so pretty!!!” – so she looked all happy and perky, and quite matched the hat.

When I put the droopy hat on her, I said in a mournful tone, “Wellll, pooooor, poooor doggy.” So she looked all sad and dejected, just because of my voice.

I called her my ‘push-button’ dog, because she’d happily try to do anything I asked of her. By the time she was a little over a year old, she’d do most of her commands by hand/eye/ head signals alone. If I’d mix signals, she’d stop, stare at me with those bright eyes, and say, “Woof-OOF!” which always made me laugh, which in turn made her wag furiously, figuring she’d done the right thing, of course. She was a wonderful, intelligent dog.

The longest trip I ever went on with my parents was when we went to Newfoundland. We had driven our big Buick Electra, and we had Sparkle with us. At North Sydney, Nova Scotia, we took a big ship, the John Hamilton IV, across the St. Lawrence Strait to Channel-Port aux Basques, Newfoundland. It took 6 ½ hours to cross the Strait. I’d go down to the level where our car was parked fairly often to care for my dog.

Once while down there, a young ship worker asked me to go visit the boiler/engine room with him.

I was 12. I looked 18.

I thought, This ain’t right, and ordered Sparkle, “Sit.”

She sat.

Shipworker the Bearded backed up a step.

I smiled, answered his request with a polite “No, thank you,” and told my dog (who didn’t really need voice commands, but it was impressive), “Heel.” And off we went, Sparkle immediately at my left side with her right shoulder perfectly aligned with my left knee.

Scruffbeard didn’t bother me again.

Here’s a picture of Sparkle and me on the shores of Echo Lake, halfway up Mt. Evans.

As for reading... I read everything I could get my hands on, including the entire unabridged Merriam-Webster dictionary, when I was about 6. I found a set of old encyclopedias in our basement when I was 7 or 8. There was a big overstuffed chair down there, too. Thus, I was lost to the world for days. Mama would have been horrified, had she known all the things I learned. 😲

I remember the day I went to the public library at about age 9, walked slowly through the children’s section looking for books I hadn’t read – and realized, I’ve read every single book in this section. Sooo... I graduated to the young teens’ section.

And climbing trees? There was one just outside the door to Daddy’s big garage. It was a lovely, limber thing, and I could climb to some of the smaller branches and make that thing sway to and fro like a swing carousel. (The thought of the branch breaking never occurred to me.)

One summer evening, I was up there doing just that, when I heard Daddy closing things down in his garage, preparing to come out the side door. I quickly worked up a strong rhythm, making those branches dip right down to the ground. One way, then the other, I swayed that tree. Timing it just right as the tree bent low, I took a leap and landed ker-PLOP right in front of my startled father. 😂

Thursday I began quilting the central panel of the Atlantic Beach Path quilt:

Two hours later, it looked like this:

A friend remarked that one of the quilting designs reminded her of a seahorse.

That gave me an idea: if I was skilled enough, I could quilt little sea and beach critters into some of these hexagons. Trouble is, I’m the child whose parents had to look at drawings other parents stuck on their refrigerators to see if their little girl had drawn a pig, or a giraffe! 🤣

The Schwan man got stuck on the ice in our driveway Friday afternoon. Fortunately, Larry had just purchased a couple of bags of salt de-icer (that stuff is expensive!). I scurried out to the garage for a bag (those things are heavy!), and the man put down a layer behind his rear wheels, and was soon out again (that stuff is magic!).

Before heading back to the quilting studio, I put some venison, baby bakers (potatoes), and corn on the cob into the French oven, and set it to baking slowly. A couple of hours later, I got the French oven out of the oven, turned up the heat, and put in an apple pie. We would have Butter Pecan ice cream with it.

As usual, Larry was late. He’s always late when I make a big supper; it must be one of Murphy’s Laws. He’d gone hunting, and the carrier bearing had fallen off of his pickup, so that he had to limp it home slowly. At least he got a deer, so he wasn’t too awfully woebegone. And he soon had the pickup fixed. But he had a dreadful time trying to eat.

Once upon a time, back when Larry was about 16, he decided to not only butcher a deer himself, but also to tan the leather himself.

He used his mother’s dryer for the job.

Astonishingly, she let him live.

I worked on hexagons and borders Friday. Meanwhile, Teensy was over there wondering who shrunk his Thermabed.

“Pssst, Teensy, you’d fit better if you turned the other way.”

After turning:

Ahhhhhh! There, that’s a little bettah. Not quite right, but... bettah.

He clambered out of his bed and came mrrrrowing to request treats periodically.

Teensy started out as TNC (The Neighbor’s Cat). Their adult daughter left him there when she moved. He’d never been outside, but they didn’t want him inside. He ran away. Victoria found him a week later, half-starved --- and he’s loved us and been here ever since, some ten years. Say ‘TNC’ fast several times, and it becomes ‘Teensy’. 😃 Makes a good joke, because he’s so big. 😄

News Flash, News Flash!!!

Violet is walking.

Both Aaron and Joanna got ‘new’ vehicles Saturday. Aaron’s is a 2017 Ford Escape, and Joanna’s is a 2012 Chevy Malibu – her first car.

I got ten more hexagons done that day. Take a look at this ‘oops’, followed by the fixed block.

Speaking of ‘oopses’... I have sometimes removed a wobble in my quilting – only to put it straight back in two or three times. 🙄 At least this time there were no stitches to put back in.

I actually thought as I was doing it, This little spot doesn’t hit the corner, like those other ones did. But when one has one’s nose pressed to the quilt (softer than a grindstone, heh), one just doesn’t see the bigger picture until one steps back.

You know, there’d be a whole lot of things in life that would be mighty aggravatin’, if one couldn’t laugh at one’s self!

See more quilted hexagons here and here.

Sunday morning, it was 22° at 7:45 a.m.—and I had the bathroom window wide open, because I get boiling hot when I blow-dry my hair.

A friend’s story that day about holding her breath as her granddaughter held a lit candle during a Christmas program reminded me of when I was 4 years old, and got to say a little poem in the Christmas program. The 4-year-olds didn’t usually say poems, but they were short of children for the particular acrostic they wanted to use that year, and so I got the privilege. I was shy, but I could memorize quickly, and had a voice that carried (I was the preacher’s daughter, after all, and had a voice to prove it!).

My poem started, “I’m just a tiny candle, Not very big at all;” and ended, “I’ll let my little light shine!”

I was given a little green, red, and gold wax candle to hold, and thought that was plenty nice; but, oh, you can’t imagine how delighted I was when just before I went up the steps to the platform to say my poem the night of the program, one of the ushers, a dear friend of my father’s whom I loved very much, stepped forward with a lighter and lit my candle!!!

Ohhh. My candle was lit.

Larry went to his dentist in Lincoln this morning. He called this afternoon to tell me where he was, and to say that they’d worked on his temporary teeth, so now they fit better. The permanent teeth aren’t done; they just have a few teeth in the gums, and had him try them on to decide if the gums were okay, and the few teeth in them so far positioned correctly. Seems it will be a process before they are completed.

He was on his way to a town in Iowa to pick up the cedar siding and the fuel tanks. He bought those items for $125. The cedar alone is worth over $1,000, even at Menards. He plans to use it on walls and ceiling of the bathroom in our upstairs addition.

I baked Schwan’s Canadian Bacon pizza for supper tonight – and Larry, who got home around 8:00 p.m., could not chew the Canadian bacon. His teeth fit fairly well now, but his mouth is still sore from last week’s ill fit.

Oops, there was a small landslide in the lower cupboard behind me. Time out while I cram a couple of things back in there.

I need to clean that thing out. Even the cats know that when we open it, they should probably move, fast, since empty Tupperware and Sterilite containers are liable to come tumbling out. One of these days...

I’m sipping Passion Berry Jolt Tiesta tea –– loose-leaf black tea with raspberry, passion fruit, and pineapple bits, cornflower petals and marigold flowers in it. I used the little stainless steel infusion teapot from John H. and Lura Kay for the first time. It has a little basket inside it that holds the tealeaves.

It brewed really nicely, with lots of flavor, and stayed hot until I needed to refill it with water.

I feel like I’m at one of those fancy-schmancy restaurants, where they bring you a pretty china teacup and saucer, along with a little teapot of hot water and a variety of teas. Only it’s better, because loose-leaf tea has more flavor than teabags, and this little pot is bigger and prettier.

Plus, I didn’t have to trip the waitress to get her attention when I wanted more water.

Bedtime!

,,,>^..^<,,, Sarah Lynn ,,,>^..^<,,,