February Photos

Monday, July 7, 2025

Journal: Fourth of July Fun



Last Monday evening, I finished the central section for the ‘All Creatures Great & Small’ quilt.  Next, I took a picture of it, imported it into my EQ8 program, and set about attempting to concoct some fancy-schmancy borders for it.

Everything I tried looked worse than the previous attempt, and it was becoming steadily more difficult to hold my eyes open in any case; so I gave up and went to bed.  I would try again the next day on a fresh pot of coffee (or a tall mug of Cold Brew, as it were), after spending a little while looking at animal quilt pictures I’ve saved on Pinterest.  That generally gives me some good ideas.

Accordingly, Tuesday found me hunting through Pinterest, and putting a few quilt pictures into new tabs for further consideration.

A pretty little barn swallow suddenly landed on a vine right outside my window, and sat there making little chirping noses, while dozens of fellow swallows swooped acrobatically over the yard gathering up insects.  The sun was shining on him, turning him iridescent.  (Photo by Gerald Romanchuk for the Freshman Research Initiative.)



The little swallow’s beak was open.  He was hot, sitting there in the bright sunlight! 

A couple of cabbage white butterflies were doing a waltz directly below him, fluttering from flower to flower, then doing upward spirals,  and his little head was turning this way and that as he tracked them.  Annnd... he was off again like a shot, dipping and swooping over the yard.



Meanwhile, bunnies were having a leapfest out in the lawn.  They’re so funny to watch.

By late afternoon, I had finished the EQ8 design for Nathanael’s quilt, All Creatures Great & Small.



I went searching in my fabric bins to see if I had what I needed.  Just as I thought, I didn’t have nearly enough light-colored fabric for the background, even if I made it scrappy (that is, with a variety of light-colored fabrics).  So I hurried off to Hobby Lobby before they closed – and found exactly what I needed at less than $5/yard.  I got five yards.

That’s when I discovered that the AC was not working on the Mercedes.  The lights on the controls came on, but the fan did not.  Ugh, it was hot.

That day, Hannah had an appointment with a dentist in Papillion, an hour and a half to our east, to have mercury removal and repair done on her teeth.  We are hoping this will improve her health.

But it didn’t start out too well – she fell down her garage steps on her way to her vehicle, badly turning her ankle and scraping and bruising the other leg.

The mercury-removal procedure lasted about three hours.

That middle section of the quilt isn’t warped; I had my lens at 18mm in order to get it all in, and should’ve stood on a stepstool to get farther away from it.

As I cut fabric, I listened to ‘The Civil War’ by Shelby Foote.  I hunted for an audio book on this war after chatting with Levi last week, and realizing I had forgotten (or never knew in the first place) a whole lot of details about the Civil War.  This is a very interesting book, and the narrator is good, too.

Here’s a picture Hannah sent me, taken on their trip to Washington, D.C.  Didn’t Joanna wear the perfect dress for these sunrise shots on Virginia Beach?



My ‘Winding Thread’ question on my Quilt Talk group that evening was this:  What was your favorite quilt shop, and why did you like it? 

Here’s my ‘favorite quilt shop’ story:

We once went in an old, old quilt shop in a quaint little town. 

Near the front of the store was an old dry cupboard filled with all kinds of homemade candles, potpourri, and soap.  It made the whole store smell absolutely scrumptious.  The moment we opened the big old door with the giant cowbell that announced our entrance, we smelled a faint odor of fresh-baked apple pie.  I had actually thought it was a souvenir shop, and was surprised and delighted to discover it was a quilt shop.

The ceilings of the large building were about 25 feet high, of pressed tin.  The floors were rough-hewn wide planking, and there were antique sewing machines sitting around here and there in picturesque settings, usually with partially-done, antique quilts arranged under the presser foot and fanned out just so, as if the seamstress had just hopped up for a moment and would be back shortly.  The bolts were arranged in ‘rooms’, with the ‘walls’ being stand-alone shelving, again of rough-hewn planks (possibly old barn planking), and all coordinating things were together in such beautiful order, it made one wish one could say, “I’ll have a couple of yards of every bolt in the store, please.” 


In each ‘room’ there was a lovely quilt displaying some of the fabrics in that particular area, along with a little wooden rack with a variety of pattern books or packaged patterns.  In the center of the store, under a huge chandelier comprised of old-fashioned lanterns, there was a ‘book store’, and the choices included not just pattern books, but also historical books featuring quilters and their quilts.  There was even a tall pump thermos of gourmet coffee and a couple of comfortable chairs, in case you wanted to sit down and read one of those books.

One entire room was devoted to notions and tools of all sorts.  Quilts hung high on the walls all the way around the store, rigged with cords and pulleys and hardware to make it easy to change them.

And, oh, yes, the restroom.  It was a wonder ladies ever came out and let another in, in timely fashion, the way they had that restroom and small lounge decorated.  The toilet was one of those old-time apparatuses that has a wooden tank affixed high on the wall, sporting a pull chain (did you ever wonder what would happen to your hairdo, should one of those things spring a leak whilst you were, ah, perched?), and the sink was a pedestal type with double cross-handles.  There was beadboard paneling all around, and lanterns for light fixtures – but what stalled everyone out was the array of amazingly gorgeous and intricate miniature quilts arranged so beautifully and artfully around the walls.  In one corner of the little lounge area stood a tall, old wooden ladder with a couple of antique quilts hanging on the rungs.  In a vintage magazine rack, there were – what else – magazines, circa 1920s and 30s.

The owner and employees were friendly, helpful, and homey.  (No, not ‘homely’, homey! – i.e., ‘with the ability to make one feel at home’.)

This was a long time ago, and I cannot remember for the life of me if it was in Arkansas… or Missouri… or Wisconsin… or Michigan… or Minnesota... or...  I recall that there was a stream flowing rapidly right through town, wooded hills on all sides, and some of the little shops along the old brick street had decks at the back, built right out over the stream – more of a small river, really – where you could sit at wrought iron seats or benches and tables, and eat the homemade goodies some of the stores offered.

I know it was not to our west, not Colorado or Wyoming or Montana or Idaho or suchlike, because there was a whole lot of vegetation – vines climbing the trees, etc. – and the trees were mostly deciduous, as opposed to evergreens.  It was summertime, hot, but not unpleasantly so, and a bit humid.  Only the side streets were brick, not the main thoroughfare.  There was only one main street, and I believe it ran north and south.  It’s possible it was somewhere along the St. Croix.



But!  – ♫ ♪ I’ve been everywhere, man, ♪ ♫ crossed the desert fair, man, ♫ ♪ trouble I’ve seen my share, man, ♫ ♪ I’ve been everywhere! ♫ ♪  --- So how am I to know?  If I try adding any more details, it’s very, very possible that I will wind up accidentally combining lovely locations I have stored in my memory – or my imagination, for that matter. 

I recall the store ladies’ expressions when they saw us walking in with the children (I think they were all with us, but I could be wrong about that – sometimes the older ones stayed home).  In any case, the youngest was Victoria, and she was not yet a year and a half.  The ladies tried to hide it, but I saw horror on their faces, as they glanced from our ducklings, large and small, to all their pretty things.

We walked quietly through the store admiring things, and now and then one of the children pointed something out to me – usually in a whisper, for they were shy.  Besides, no one else was saying anything; it probably felt like a library to them – especially when we came upon the books and chairs in the middle.

When nothing calamitous seemed imminent (candle jars still intact, no antique sewing machine pedals stepped on, vintage quilts left untouched), the ladies in the shop began warming up, then became friendlier and friendlier.  I wonder if that was the shop where I bought a kitten quilt pattern and a set of greeting cards with a quilt pattern embossed on them?  Finally, as we were about to go, one of the ladies, after asking my permission, brought out a basket of lollipops for the children.

The children thanked them, even little Victoria.  “Fankoo,” she said, as we turned to leave. 

Small fry do not believe that sound waves travel in any direction except in that particular track that leads directly to the ear of the person to whom they are speaking, ever notice that?  Victoria, whose only word(s) until now had been to voice her appreciation for the candy, suddenly proclaimed in her piping little voice, “I wike twit chops!!!”

And then everyone burst out laughing, and out the door we went, with the ladies merrily waving and admonishing us to “come back soon to our ‘twit chop’, and bring all the children!”

And that’s my twit chop – er, quilt shop – story.

Here's another favorite quilt shop, Calico Annie's, in Fullerton.



Wednesday, Victoria sent pictures of Willie sitting on his bed with the quilt and pillow I made for him, and another of him with his little cars in a color-coded circle.



The other day, Victoria remarked that something ‘was no big deal’, and Willie said, “It’s a tiny deal?”

About the same time, Amy told me that Warren puts his quilt (the Farmall Scenes quilt) upside down on his bed when he makes it, in order to keep the top nice and clean.  😄😍

I printed a couple of the foundation papers for some of the triangles for the Flying Geese border on Nathanael’s quilt, and cut fabric for them.

An online friend asked for prayer for her little boy, who was going to have tubes put in his ears and his adenoids removed.

I answered, “I will pray for your little boy,” and then told my story about my child having tubes put in his ears and his adenoids removed:

Our son Joseph had this surgery done when he was three and a half.  That was some 37 years ago.

He recovered quickly.  His balance, which ear infections had thrown off a bit, improved so rapidly that, the very next afternoon, he learned to ride his bike without training wheels.  That was not my idea, mind you; I had no idea that the child was pulling such a stunt as riding his bike the very day after having tubes put in his ears, of all things.  Keith, the helpful elder brother who had removed the training wheels for his little brother, seemed to think he was doing just the sort of thing one ought to do for those who have had a recent stay in a hospital, in order to cheer them up properly, don’t you know.

I knew nothing of these exploits and escapades, imagining the children walking calmly up and down the front sidewalk as they might if they were in an Easter promenade, until Hannah came dashing excitedly into the house, all smiles.

“Mama!” she exclaimed in a loud half-whisper, mindful of her baby sister taking a nap.  “Come see what Joseph is doing!”

Feeling an inkling of alarm, I accordingly went quickly to the front door and looked out the window.  There was Joseph, flying pell-mell down the sidewalk on his bike, Keith running along behind him, purportedly to catch him if he fell, though I seriously doubt he could’ve.  Their laughter floated back to me as I watched, my hair standing on end.  

I shuddered.

But he seemed to be doing an utterly bang-up job of riding, and I hesitated to prohibit such fun.  Who likes to be a killjoy, after all?

I decided that the best course of action was to retire from the window and quit looking.

It was kind of miserable driving to church without air conditioning that hot evening, especially since I didn’t want to roll the windows down too far and demolish me cute leetle coiffed hairdo.  At least it only takes seven minutes to get from our house to the church, I thought, and then, Oh – I need to pick up an order at Walmart for groceries for our annual 4th of July church picnic Friday.  So it would take a good half an hour after church to drive to Walmart on the far east side of town and then home again.  But at least by then it no longer mattered if my hair got messed up, right?  😅

A watermelon was supposed to be in my grocery order.  It was not.  ‘Out of Stock’, it said, when I looked up my order online.  Watermelon??!  Out of stock on July 2nd???

Probably they mark it thus when they get back to the room where they take everything before bringing it out to the customer, and discover they forgot something.

“OOooops, ‘Out of Stock’.”  Like that.

After a quick supper, I went back to my sewing room and finished the large Flying Geese triangles, and got the smaller ones half done.  The finished size of this block is 17.38” x 8.75”. 



 For some unknown reason, someone posted this comment on a Facebook story about the fireworks warehouse explosion in California:  “There are 48 million kangaroos in Australia and 3,457,380 inhabitants in Uruguay.  So if kangaroos decide to invade Uruguay, every Uruguayan must fight 14 kangaroos.”

I’m always glad to know such valuable things; but... what in the world did that have to do with a fireworks warehouse explosion?

Thursday, I attached the top and bottom Flying Geese borders and finished the Flying Geese for the side borders of the ‘All Creatures Great & Small’ quilt.  But it was bedtime; I had to get up early to get ready for the picnic the next day!




My contribution to our annual Fourth of July church picnic was spaghetti and meatballs, corn on the cob, Doritos, blueberry streusel muffins, and five gallons of ice water.

An elderly lady that most of us called Grandma Armstrong used to cut corn from the cob and freeze it, and it was the best corn I ever had in my life.  I once ate supper at the home where she lived with her daughter and son-in-law when I was young.  Somebody filled my plate for me, and assumed that because I was small, I would only want a small spoonful of the corn, and they never offered me more before everyone else finished it off.  waa waa waa

I wonder what made it so delicious?  I know, for one thing, she didn’t cut it very close to the cob at all, though when she was done, she’d gently scrape her knife down the sides of the cob.  This made sure no part of the cob got into the corn.  That may have been part of it.  Or maybe they planted an extra yummy variety of corn?

Friday morning, I stuffed the Instant Pot full of frozen corn on the cob, started it – and realized half an hour later that it still hadn’t even started counting down the minutes!  😮  When will I ever learn that this is what happens when that thing is crammed full of frozen foods?!

The spaghetti sauce and meatballs were in the oven.  As soon as the aroma was wafting tantalizingly about, I tossed in the noodly things, which had already been cooked on the stove, popped it back in the oven to stay warm, and then carried everything else out to the Mercedes.

It was time to go before the Instant Pot had finished its cycle.  Figuring the corn was done or close enough, I turned it off and released the steam.

Wow, that was quite the impressive steam geyser I made.

I put an entire stick of butter in the pot atop the ears of corn, covered it with aluminum foil, and was ready to go.  I brought along some butter-flavored popcorn seasoning, too, since no one has invented a way to get melted butter to stay on hot corn on the cob.

Here’s the pavilion where we have our Fourth-of-July picnics, located on my niece Christine’s property.  The lake curves around on the right.  Our son-in-law, Bobby, had a number of patriotic songs arranged for the band to play at noon.



I went for a ride in the covered trolley behind a tractor driven by my great-nephew Joshua.  It was a fun but dusty ride.

Victoria sent me home with a piece of her yummy chicken and a strawberry oatmeal cookie bar, both of which I was very glad to have by evening.

“Thank you for the scrumptious chicken and cookie bar!” I texted her.  “It turns out, I needed it really bad.  Right now.  😋

I never can eat enough at noon to keep me full for the rest of the day.  Believe me, there was lots ’n lots o’ food.

Another great-nephew and his wife had a new baby girl (as opposed to an old baby girl) that evening – and they’d been at the picnic, just a few hours earlier!  They named her ‘Ivy Susan’, after her late grandmother, my niece Susan who passed away last year.

I came upon Carolyn and Violet holding paper cones that used to have cotton candy on them.  Some friends had brought a cotton candy machine, and made dozens of those fluffy confections.

As I was trotting around taking pictures, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a friend of mine, who’d been about to walk around me, came to a screeching halt, the better not to interrupt my photo session.  So I held the camera down and grinned at her as she proceeded on.

“I just about photobombed your picture!” she said.

And I?  I started to say, “You’re quite likely to do that whenever you’re around me, since I’m forever taking pictures!”

BUT! — she went rushing on her way, so that the only part of the sentence I got out was, “You’re quite likely to do that –” and there I petered out, since there was no one with whom to finish the conversation.

I thought about shouting after her, “I DIDN’T MEAN THAT!”  Or maybe, “LET ME FINISH!!!”  Or something.  🤣

Maybe my friendly grin will smooth the gaffe, even though the grin came before the gaffe.  Catholic penance.

There was homemade ice cream, too.  The big 15-gallon churns are powered by the John Deere tractor (next page).  The young couple is Roy and Samantha, with their little girl Emmalyn.  Roy bought Loren’s house three years ago, shortly before he and Samantha were married.  They are expecting their second child.  Roy’s father Tim is making the ice cream.




When I got home, I began editing photos.  I’d taken 203 pictures plus one video.  By the time I finished with the editing, I had 250 pictures plus one video, because I copied several and then cropped them differently in order to focus on different people who were in the original photo. 

Through the evening, I could hear fireworks going off all around us.  I love fireworks.  I am sorry about your chickenhearted pets who are frightened of the noise.  We raised stalwart, patriotic animals who weren’t scared at all.

Kidding, kidding.  About your scaredy-cat pets, that is.  Ours truly weren’t afraid; I’m sorry for those that are.  No need to shoot pop-bottle rockets at me!

We were once out in front of our house one Fourth of July evening, watching as our older kids and some friends from down the street shot off fireworks.  Our big Siberian husky, Aleutia, was in the back yard, where she had access to the safety of the garage, if so she desired.

She did not desire, thank you kindly.

She desired to be out front with us.

So she opened the latch on the gate and came out.

She never did have any trouble with latches and handles, or even bungee cords.  We should’ve named her ‘Houdini.’

Here she came, trotting happily along, open grinny-grin on her face, big bushy tail waving proudly.  She sat herself down right beside me, bonked her cold, damp nose against my hand (“Hi!”), and then proceeded to watch the show. 

A rocket flew high, and exploded in showers of sparkling colors.

“OoooOOOOooo!” said the children.

Aleutia, who had watched the trajectory, tilting her head back as the rocket ascended the sky, tossed her head, put her lips in a circle, and howled, “OoooOOOOooo!” on the same note as the children had done.

Huskies are the funniest doggies.  Here she is with Teddy.



This is the trolley I rode in.  My great-nephew Joshua is driving the tractor.  There were two or three other wagons being pulled by tractors, but this is the only one with a cover.  The trail took us all around the lake – two lakes, really, connected by a narrow neck – and through wooded areas.  The ride took about 20 minutes.




There were probably around 475 people at the picnic.

As I edited pictures, I sent several shots of various children to their parents.  That’s the fun part about taking pictures of the little ones:  giving those pictures to their parents.  See my photos here.

To my great-niece Lynette, I sent pictures of her two little girls, Gracie Anne and Christina.  Both little girls are sweet as can be.

“Do you just call her Gracie?” I asked.

“Yes, we call her Gracie unless she’s being naughty 😄,” Lynette replied. 

Next, I sent her a photo of one of her boys swinging high, and another of a little girl and a little boy on the horse swing with her brother Daniel pushing them.  “Could you please very kindly tell me who these are?” I requested.  “If kids were just taught to stand in a line with their siblings every time I aim the camera at them, I’d have a much better notion of which member of which family they are!” 😂

She obligingly gave me the information.

I have now reminded myself once again of the aforementioned elderly Grandma Armstrong, who often used to remark, “I’d never know who these children were, if they weren’t with their parents!”

And that was back when the size of our congregation was less than half what it is now.

A friend of ours made this huge swing with concrete and steel.  Just to give you a notion of how tall it is, my great-nephew Michael (Larry’s boss at Walker Foundations) is standing on the left.  He’s about 6’ 8”.  His brother Daniel is on the far right, and Daniel is about 6’ 6”.



Their youngest brother, Joshua, who was driving the tractor pulling the trolley I rode in, is 7’ tall.  When my brother Loren was still able to come to church, he was forgetting more and more of our fellow parishioners, especially the young ones; but he never failed, if given the slightest opportunity, to ask Joshua, “How’s the weather up there?”

And Joshua, though surely that must’ve gotten old, never failed to be friendly and kind.

I was delighted when I got as tall as my Grandma.  But she was only about 4’ 10”, I think!  I suppose I was maybe 9 or 10 when I got that tall.  By the time I was 12, I’d reached my full height of about 5’ 2½”.

Saturday evening, Hannah texted to say that during the previous hour, they’d gotten rain from a mostly sunny sky.

I looked out the window, and realized it was thunder that I’d heard a while earlier.  Right then, there was a very dark cloud overhead, and there were thunderheads on the northern horizon.  A few drops of rain fell, even as the sun shined brightly in the west.



Then Hannah remarked that she believes Nathanael gauges the length of his shower by how long it takes to run their decent-sized hot water tank out of hot water.

I well remember those days of running out of hot water.

Caleb used to run us out of hot water by turning on the shower ‘until the water got warm’, so he said – and then he’d curl up on the rug and fall sound asleep.  I tried to remember to keep an ear out for a shower running and no accompanying sounds of thumping of elbows and dropped soap and shampoo bottles, but now and then I forgot, and only realized the problem when nothing but cold water flowed into the sink of dishes I was often washing about that time.

Sewing until bedtime, I got the Flying Geese borders and another narrow border attached to the ‘All Creatures Great & Small’ quilt.



I’ve discovered that if I drink Cold Brew when I’m blow-drying and curling my hair, especially on Sunday mornings, I don’t get so unbearably hot.  How’s that for a flabbergasting scientific breakthrough?!

Here’s the sky after church last night, as we drove home from Walmart after picking up a few groceries.  It was changing fast.  Too bad I didn’t have my big camera!  Just my phone cam, which is rinky-dink.



I took five quilts to the County Fair this morning.  











I picked up Larry’s check on the way, then went to the bank after leaving the fairgrounds.  Next, I went to the dry cleaners to pick up my clothes.  My niece works there; it’s owned by friends of ours.  The front room is pretty, like an upscale waiting lounge.  They sell things such as handmade soaps, lotions, and lip balms, too, and other things (can’t remember, because I was mainly enthralled with the beautiful soaps – I love handmade soaps).  The previous owners had allowed it to get quite rundown.

Home again, I washed the dishes, made a new gallon jug of Cold Brew (I use decaf coffee beans), and paid some bills. 

The flavor of the Cold Brew this time is Strawberry Crumble.  Christopher Bean describes it thusly:  “Flavors of Strawberry Jam and Buttery Crumble, with a Vanilla finish.”

The brew will have a nice flavor in as little as three hours, but I like to leave it at least half a day – and a whole day is even better.  Then we only need a concoction of 1/3 Cold Brew to 2/3 water.  The last gallon of Cold Brew lasted ten days, and Larry and I both had at least one tall thermal mug of it each day. 

I considered ‘borrowing back’ two or three quilts I made after the County and State Fairs were over last year, and which I gave away at Christmas time; but then I saw how many were stacked right over there on my couch.  And when I looked at the County Fair categories, I saw there the silly people who run the show just haven’t made enough categories for me!  You can only enter one item in each category, and there’s a limit of 20 total items.  So... 😏🤭😉

OH! a pretty little female cardinal just landed on the vine right outside the window beside me!  She was no more than 6” from my nose.  (Photo from Illinois Department of Natural Resources.)



At 2:00 p.m., the temperature was 82°, with a heat index of 93°.  By 4:00 p.m., it was thundering like everything, and I received a notice that rain would start soon.

It did – a gentle rain, for once.  By a quarter ’til seven, the sun had come out again.

There are two small bunnies – preteens, I imagine – playing hide-and-go-seek amongst the hostas and lilies in the front yard.

The coolest it’s going to be during the night tonight is 77°.  Guess I won’t go outside and pull weeds in the morning; it’ll be 83° by 9:00 a.m.  I had a bad case of heat exhaustion a number of years ago, with a high fever and a dreadful headache.  Ever since then, I’ve had to be cautious about working outside on hot days.

The next morning will be even hotter.  Some days rain is predicted.  Thursday, I have a morning appointment with my eye doctor in Lincoln to get the Botox injections for this Benign Essential Blepharospasm I have.  It takes two hours to get there.

I think the weeds will just have to enjoy themselves for at least another week.

The washer is done and it’s time to toss the clothes into the dryer.  It’s thundering and lightninginginging (I never know when to stop, with that word) again!

And now it's raining hard.  Yes, the weeds will be enjoying themselves.



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






Friday, July 4, 2025

Photos: Fourth of July Picnic

Pavilion on my niece's property, where we have our annual church picnic.

Food!  Lots 'n lots o' food.

The little house in the background was originally a cabin on pilings (as the river sometimes floods this area). Now it's been all fixed up inside with a new kitchen and bathroom, and the under-house area is enclosed.









































That smaller children's playset in the background was carried away by flooding early this spring; but they found it and retrieved it.


















Cotton candy!







Ice cream!  The churns are powered by the tractor.







Baby's first picnic

























All worn out.


He spotted his Daddy.  💗




Puppy!





My great-nephew is driving the tractor; this is his wife and two little children.



This great-nephew was fishing on the far side of the lake, and caught a ride in the trolley as we went past.










Clearing out

Heading for home