Journal: The Coffee Beans Are Knocking

 

Last Tuesday it got up to 82°.  The sun was shining up until about 12:20 p.m., when it suddenly got dark with clouds.  I checked my weather app, and saw that rain was forecast to start in 43 minutes, and we were being warned of possible severe weather later that afternoon and evening.  The wind was blowing at 25 mph, so said AccuWeather; but it sounded like it was blowing a lot harder than that.  One of my weather apps termed it a ‘fresh breeze’, haha. 

Here’s another one of those pretty little mountain houses in Deadwood, South Dakota.

Some lady on Facebook wanted to know what this symbol on her dash was all about:

Here are the answers she received: 

“You need to put new horseshoes on.”

“It’s time to stir the soup.”

This one was close:  “You need to remove the summer air from your tires and put autumn air in.”

It might be better if she reads her manual, haha.

The rain started, as predicted.  During that rain, UPS delivered a box, just tossing it on the porch.  I suddenly saw the notification of a delivery in my email.  It was my coffee from Amana, and they do not put their coffee beans in waterproof bags!!! 

I ran out in the rain and grabbed the soggy box.  The outer box was ruined, but the bags of coffee beans were still fine.  You’d think they could at least knock on the door!  (The UPS drivers, not the coffee beans.)

I now have six bags of various autumn-flavored Amana coffee beans in my cupboard.  😋

By a quarter after four, there was not a cloud in the sky.

Annnd... 45 minutes later, the sky was covered with dark clouds again.

At 7:00 p.m., a blindingly bright streak of lightning hit a very short ways up the hill to the north, followed immediately by a LOUD crack of thunder and another streak of lightning.  We were issued a severe thunderstorm warning, with possibilities of hail and 70-mph winds.

Larry got home from work right about then, and came dashing into the house.  We ate supper, the weather calmed, and Larry went to Genoa to work on a vehicle.

Wednesday, I edited the pictures I had taken at the AQS quilt show in Des Moines and posted them online, along with pictures from Saylorville Lake north of Des Moines and the Danish Windmill in Elk Horn, Iowa.

Great blue heron

Oh, the comments I get!  I post a picture of turkey vultures, label it as such, and promptly get informed, “Hawks”  That’s all; just “Hawks”

I posted pictures of the inside of the Danish Windmill.  There is a huge wooden shaft that comes down from the windshaft to the floor where the grain is ground.  Big wooden-toothed wheels connect to the metal shaft that turns the grindstone.  The grooved ‘runner’ grindstone is the only stone that turns.  Under it, inside the wooden barrel, is the stationary bedstone.  Grain is poured into a wooden hopper above the stones, and as the runner stone turns and grinds that grain, the resulting flour flows down the flour chute and into some sort of receptacle, usually a feed sack – which, by the way, women used to use in sewing and quilting.

When feed and flour sack manufacturers realized this, they began to sell them first in plain colors, then in prints, for making clothing.  By the late 1930s, there was heated competition to produce the most attractive and desirable prints.  Artists were hired to design these prints.  This turned out to be a great marketing ploy as women picked out flour, sugar, beans, rice, cornmeal, and even the feed and fertilizer for the family farm based on which fabrics they desired.  Some sacks displayed lovely border prints for things such as pillowcases.  Scenic prints also became popular.  Manufacturers even made pre-printed patterns for dolls, stuffed animals, appliqué, and quilt blocks.

Anyway, back to the Danish Windmill.  I posted this picture of the wooden barrel, where part of the ‘runner’ grindstone can be seen.  As usual, I captioned my photos.  Nevertheless, somebody knowledgeably commented on this picture, “Ice cream maker.”

I explained again what it was.

She responded, “Looks like an older ice cream maker with paddle wheels.  Weird”

Realizing it could look that way in the picture, I tried again, adding, “Each of those two grindstones (you can see the top one inside the barrel) weighs 2,500 pounds – a total of 5 tons!”

“im so dering [wondering] if we’re looking at the same thing” she answered, and then, a bit later, “I see now it’s like a grind stone.”

It’s not like a grindstone, it is a grindstone.  But I let it be.

Then, under this picture from inside the Danish giftshop, she wrote, “Dutch plates.”

But... but... Ma’am!  It’s a Danish Windmill!  Why would there be Dutch plates (those are called Delftware, by the way) in the Danish giftshop?!

Ooookay, boys and girls, let’s have a test.  Who knows the difference between ‘Dutch’ and ‘Danish’?  Well??

Answer:  Dutch people are from the Netherlands (not just ‘Holland’, as the Holland region only comprises two of the twelve provinces and 20% of Dutch citizens).  Danish people are from Denmark.

The Danish Windmill, as noted last week, was originally built in 1848 in Nørre Snede, Denmark. 

Those plates are Danish Blue, not Dutch Blue, plates, and are also called Royal Copenhagen Ware.  There were some authentic Royal Copenhagen dishes at the Windmill, kept behind glass, and some newer replicas that people can purchase.

Speaking of Danes, here is a bust of Hans Christian Andersen, the famous Danish storyteller, who lived from 1805 to 1875.

It was bright and sunny Thursday, and got up to 66°.  For supper that night, I fixed venison barley soup.  The soup was a dried mix we got from the vendor Grassland Gourmet & Gifts at the Hill City Quilt Show in South Dakota.  I added diced tomatoes, ground venison, and a bit of ketchup.  After the soup was done cooking in the Instant Pot, I sprinkled finely shredded Fiesta Blend cheeses on it (Monterey Jack, Cheddar, Queso, Quesadilla, and Asadero) and added a dollop of sour cream.

Friday, October 6^th, was my 63^rd birthday.  One child and grandchild after another texted or emailed or called to wish me Happy Birthday.

While texting with Joseph, I sent him a picture of Larry under the pickup at the Whispering Pines Campground, telling him how everything went wrong after we ran out of fuel, and Larry, trying to get a few more yards out of the rig so as to get it safely onto that country road we could see up ahead, left it in gear and released the clutch in order to make the engine fire and possibly even restart.

But that was too much for the clutch, which was already showing signs of wear.  To make matters worse, it had been replaced by previous owners – and they’d used a cheap version instead of a bona fide Dodge clutch.  Larry showed me the old one compared to the new one he bought in Rapid City, and the bearing walls of the old one were a whole lot thinner than the Dodge version.

Anyway, Joseph proceeded to make a video clip using the picture I sent him and adding audio of a voice guffawing and saying, “Hoo-ha!  Okay, ah know what’s wrong wit’it!  Ain’t got no gas init!” 

Of course, Joseph was pleased enough with his efforts that he sent it to Larry, too.  😆  And of course Larry thought it was funny.

Hannah and Levi came visiting that afternoon, bringing me a dark teal cardigan and a top with a vintage sewing machine and lots of flowers printed on it.  Perfect for the next quilt show.

That evening, we went to Kurt and Victoria’s house for Violet’s birthday party.  There were lots of people there.  Everywhere I looked, there were friends and family, tall and short.  The short ones kept giving me hugs, so that was fun.  Victoria grilled hamburgers, and chicken shish kabobs with vegetables from her garden.

We gave Violet the Sunny Days Honey Bee Acres Rainbow Ridge Crystal’s  Ice Cream Shop and the Purringtons cat family, which will coordinate with the Sunny Days sets we gave Carolyn last month.

Caleb, Maria, and Eva gave me a set of dish towels and a coffee cup by Pioneer Woman, and a box of Tazo Vanilla Bean Macaron tea.

After not falling asleep until 3:30 a.m. (because I found some interesting videos on all sorts of very strange houses 🙄 and partly just because I couldn’t fall asleep), I woke up at 6:15 a.m. Saturday morning.  I allllmost went back to sleep – but got awoken suddenly at a quarter ’til 7 by what sounded like someone pounding on the front door, which made my heart pound.

No one was at the door.  Larry, however, was still in the drive with his red/white truck.  Standing beside the truck, he turned on the flashlight on his phone (it was still dark outside), walked around the house, and disappeared from view. 

I tried going back to sleep to no avail.  I gave up and just got up.  Ugh.  Two hours and 45 minutes is not enough sleep.

After a shower and some breakfast, I finished cutting the fabric for Malinda’s Cross-Stitched Teddies quilt.  The pieces are small, there are lots ’n lots ’n lots of ’em, and I’m making it scrappy, so I can’t strip-cut or strip-piece much of it.  Here are just a few of the hundreds of pieces I’ve cut.

It was Amy’s birthday that day.  We gave her some Dionis goat milk body lotion and hand soap in Sweet Pea scent, and Dionis goat milk hand cream and lip balm in caramel pumpkin spice scent.  We had gotten some of that hand cream and lip balm ourselves in the Railroad Museum in Hill City, and it was so nice, I decided it would make a good birthday gift for Amy.  Perhaps I’ll get some for the other girls, too.

After leaving Amy’s house, I went on to Omaha to see Loren.  His eye is looking better, and the shingles have disappeared from his face.

Elkhorn River

When I got home, I started sewing the pieces together for Malinda’s quilt.

Here’s a seldom-mentioned drawback to using fabric purchased at a secondhand store:  every once in a while, one unknowing runs into a piece with something fusible on the back, and proceeds to fuse it to one’s ironing board.  Or worse, to the iron itself.  😖

Yep, that happened.  But soon everything was unfused, and I was ready to proceed.

I sort of think those fabrics don’t match – which is what I often think, when I’m doing ‘scrappy’.  I prefer... uh... what’s the word?  ‘Coordinated’ scrappy... no... ‘compatible’ scrappy... no... ‘coagulated’ scrappy... NO!... ‘harmonious’ scrappy... no... ‘mellifluous’ scrappy... no... ‘polyphonous’ scrappy... no...  What is it, when there’s a color coordination to the scrappiness???

There is a word for it, but, as Hannah says, “My dictionary slammed shut!” 

I think my thesaurus slammed shut, too.  

Anyway, even if these fabrics don’t match all that well, I’ve cut them, and I’m going to use them.  Maybe it’ll be all right, if I have a blending of values, light to dark, from top to bottom.  I hope.

Oh!!  ‘Controlled’!  Controlled, controlled, controlled scrappy.  That’s what it is.  The simplest words oft escape me.  😅

Andrew and Hester gave me the prettiest wax warmer; it looks like a little wood-burning stove, with flames rising when you turn it on.  There’s a little tray on top for scented wax.

They gave me some chokecherry honey, too. 

“I got lockjaw just looking at it!” I told Hester later.  “I saw some in Hill City, South Dakota, and almost got it; but I decided I can’t get everything I want, can I?!  And then I wound up with some after all.”

They also gave me a nifty little vintage-looking notebook note-keeper thingy with all sorts of little doodads and pockets and folders.  I save pictures of stuff like this on one of my Pinterest boards, in case I ever run out of fabric and need to make... somethin’.  😊

Hester found it at a garage sale.  The lady who lives at that house makes these pretty things.

Aaron made it back to church yesterday!  His broken ankle is gradually getting better, and is healing well.  He is not to put weight on it yet, but in a few weeks he’ll start doing therapy for it.

A retired pastor, Laurence Justice, who’s been a dear friend for quite a few years, visited yesterday, along with his wife.  He preached for both the morning and the evening services.  He sat behind us during Sunday School; he has a beautiful singing voice; one would never believe he’s 80 years old.  He has a strong preaching voice, too.

While visiting with some of the family after last night’s service, I noticed that the zipper on Eva’s little beaded purse was coming unstitched, leaving a gaping hole at one end.

You wanna make a guess as to what she carries in her cute little church purses?  Nope, not small dolls.  Eva carries trains.  Train engines and cars.  She was tickled pink with the little wooden-and-magnetic engine and cars we got her at the Railroad Museum in Hill City, South Dakota, for her recent 3^rd birthday.

Anyway, noticing the hole in the purse, I said, “Would you like Grandma to take that purse home and fix that hole for you?”

“YES!” she exclaimed, nodding her head in her vigorous way.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she handed over her little purse, treasured trains and all.

“Oh, you’d better keep the trains!” I said.  “You might need to play with them!”

Caleb helped transfer engines and cars to his suit pocket, and then I tucked the beaded purse inside mine, and promised to return it after Wednesday’s church service.

I mustn’t forget to stitch that little purse back together again!

Jeremy and Lydia invited us over last night to get the birthday gift they had for me:  three suncatchers with birds painted on them (a different bird on each one), two boxes of assorted greeting cards from Leaning Tree, and a pair of Kinko Pro gardening gloves – pink stretch canvas on the backs, thick grey faux suede on the palms and fingers.  I’d been thinking I needed to get some new ones, but decided not to until next spring.

Caleb, Maria, and Eva were visiting, too. 

The boys brought in the puppies for us to see and hold.  They’re three weeks old now, and big and cuddly.  The father, Monty, is a Saint Bernard, and the mother, Molly, is a Golden Lab.  That makes the puppies – there are just two of them – Labernards.

Since Thursday is the day I need to take ten quilts to Kearney (a two-hour drive) for the Threads Across Nebraska quilt show, I picked up the New York Beauty quilt from Lydia.  She was a bit reluctant to use that quilt when I first gave it to them, but I was glad to learn recently that they have in fact had it on their bed.  I keep telling the children, “Use your quilts!  Whatever am I gonna do, when I finish making quilts for everyone and need to start over, and you haven’t worn out the first one I gave you?!”

This morning at 11:00, it was 53°, with an eventual high of 66°.  The sky was a clear blue, without even a wisp of a cloud.  Autumn is here, in middle eastern Nebraska, and we’ve had freeze warnings several nights running.  The birds are beginning to congregate in preparation for migration.

For the last couple of days, the forecast has been showing that it’s liable to be pouring rain on Thursday.  All ten quilts, two of which are king-sized, will not fit in my canvas wagon – especially if they are in slippery plastic bags.  I’ll have to make at least two trips into the Expo Building, and will surely wind up looking like a drowned rat.  I had wanted to walk around Yanney Lake that day!  😕

Larry bought me a rain poncho when we were in South Dakota.  I wonder where it is?

Hmmm... looks like Saturday, when I return to attend the quilt show and to pick up the quilts, it will be nice and sunny.  My explorations can wait until then, I guess.

Threads Across Nebraska is a non-judged quilt show.  Some people like those kinds; I prefer the judged ones, and like to read the judges’ comments.

Victoria, Violet, and Willie came visiting this afternoon, bringing me a big pot of mums, an iced coffee which Victoria described as “Apple Crisp Oatmilk Shaken Espresso or something”, a French doughnut, and a dragon fruit.

Larry happened to stop by for a late lunch while they were here.  Victoria had brought a doughnut for him, too; so he had it for dessert after eating some venison barley soup. 

Before he went back to work, he took Willie and Violet for rides on his riding lawn tractor.  Victoria couldn’t stay too long, as she had to get back to the school in time to pick up Carolyn, who’s in Kindergarten.

Oh, dear, I just discovered that a little black kitty was trapped in the garage!  It must’ve been in there since last night, when Larry had the doors open.  I opened the big door, which scared it into a far corner, poor little thing.  It’s probably thirsty!  It still looked and acted hale and hearty, though.  It was crash-banging around out there, trying to find a way out, which is what made me go and look.  It’ll head out, I’m sure, once it decides all danger has passed.

This yellow cottage on a cobbled street in Odense, Denmark, is where Hans Christian Andersen was born in 1805.  It is now  part of a museum dedicated to him.

And now, back to Malinda’s quilt.

You know, someone should do a study to figure out why a quilt that supposedly takes 5-10 yards of fabric instead puts a good 20-30 yards back into our fabric bins.  🤔

 

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

 

P.S.:  Oh, by the way, I did ask Larry what that pounding noise was on Saturday morning.  He thought long and hard... and eventually suggested that perhaps it was when he tossed a chock behind one of his tires. 

No.  That was most definitely not what I heard.

“Did you have your hearing aids on?” I inquired.

He did not. 

So... whatever that racket was that he was a-makin’, I guess we’ll never know!