A season unlike any other . . .

As spring approaches we as a nation and as a global community, are faced with changes in our lives unlike any we have experienced in the past. While I listened to the morning news on the television, I had a visceral reaction to what was being broadcast. COVID-19 is in our thoughts, in our conversations, and in the news. As I reached for the half 'n' half to pour some in my morning coffee, I thought about how much I cherish my morning coffee ritual. In light of the world-wide Coronavirus pandemic, I wondered how much of what I consider to be a normal day will change in the near and distant future because of this event. I won't list the things that came to mind, because I am quite sure you, my readers, have your own list of concerns. I will write instead about what I learned from my parents about the times when they needed to tighten their belts and their purse strings just to survive.

My father was born in 1898 in Titusville, Pennyslvania. His childhood was spent on farms where his father was a tenant farmer. They moved from Pennsylvania to Alexander, NY when he was very young. They didn't have a lot of money, but I don't think they were poor. I believe they even had a little extra money to pay for piano lessons for his sister, or they traded produce they grew on the farm with the piano teacher for her lessons. As an adult, my father lived through WWI and WWII. There were limits on what they could buy. There were gasoline rations, travel bans to save on rubber and fuel, and sacrifices at home and on the battle fields. He learned at an early age to be thrifty and a saver. Later in life, it paid off. He and his father and brothers were able to purchase a farm and during the post WWII era and they became profitable. As a result, I lived a very comfortable life as a child on our farm. My sister and I had nice clothes, toys, and plentiful food.

Circa 1930.
My father's family poses for a photo.
My grandparents are on the far left. My father is standing next to them.

My mother came from more modest beginnings. She was born at home in 1909 in Wheatland, NY.  Her parents rented a farm until they were able to purchase a small farm in LeRoy, NY. They never had enough money and the small repairs to their home and barns were done out of necessity, more than for esthetics or modernization. My mother and her parents peddled eggs and butter to the local village and community and my grandfather raised hogs that he sold at the local livestock market. During the Great Depression, my mother's family "made do" with very little. She and her sisters took jobs as mother's helpers and worked long days chasing kids, cleaning houses and doing laundry for $3 a week. In my mother's diary, she wrote that she received a card of hairpins for Christmas as one of her gifts from her parents. During WWII, she used the sugar rationing coupons given to her by her aunt to bake cakes and cookies. The family that lived up the road from her had 13 children. The three oldest boys went to war. One came home. Of the 10 children who remained at home, those who had jobs in town were given butter on their bread, but the kids who didn't have a job didn't get any butter and ate their bread plain. Those kids who lived up the road from my mother all lived long lives...some well into their nineties. They were survivors.

Circa 1930.
My maternal grandmother on the right.
The neighbor with 5 of her 13 kids, and my mother and her sister are the older girls.
Photo was taken on the west side of my grandparents' house.

When my parents got married in 1948, they remodeled a very old farm house that was built in the early or mid-1800's. They added indoor plumbing. I think they may have been the first on either side of their families to have a bathroom with a tub and toilet. The convenience of a septic system was a big deal to them. I grew up taking these things for granted.

I used to watch my mother cut the buttons off of my father's old shirts and the buckles off of his well-worn bib overalls. She saved the buttons and buckles in jars and she cut up the shirts and overalls into rags for cleaning or for the men to use on the farm. Nothing was wasted and just about everything in our home had more than one life. It was how they were raised and they raised me the same way. It has taken a lot of re-training for me to use something as simple as a paper towel. My mother would use a dishtowel or a rag when something needed to be wiped up.

So, as I look back to the beginning of this post, and my thoughts about half 'n' half, I think of the food and water the cows need in order to produce milk. I think about the farmers who need to buy grain and hay for them to eat and straw to bed them down. I think about the farmer getting paid for the milk his/her cows produce and the employees that need to get paid for their work on the farm, and the effects of the changes that are occuring now and will in the future, based on COVID-19. I think about the stories that were passed down to me from my parents about what happened in their lives due to the two world wars and the depression. I never talked to either of them about the 1918 Flu Pandemic, so I don't know how it affected them or their family's lives. I hope that in a couple of months, our world will be past the worst of the effects of this virus, at least health-wise. The economic effects may be with us for a long time.

I had planned to write a post today about something that is currently on my studio work table, but this topic was on my mind and in my heart. It is my hope that you and those you love are well and safe. You always remain in my prayers and until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

Seasonal Hobbies . . .

I have come to the conclusion that many of my hobbies are truly seasonal. Spring arrives in March, if you look at the calendar, but the gardens are not in flower quite yet. April is a good time to do the prep work, though, and rake out all the leaves and debris that have blown into the gardens over the winter. So while I wait for my gardens to wake up, the paper crafting season blooms forth in my studio. This year it was a challenge, once again, to move things around so I could comfortably reach all the paper stacks, paints, stains, bobbles, beads and equipment that this crafty season requires, since I had filled my studio with the large bolts of mesh, wire forms, signs, florals and spools of ribbons that I need for making wreaths.

After a white-knuckled drive home in wind and snow on slick ice-glazed roads from Rochester last Thursday, following a three-day continuing education class that is a requirement of our real estate licenses, we hunkered down for part two of the storm . . . more wind and snow! I plunged into finishing a journal I had started few weeks ago,but was completely stumped on how I wanted to proceed. You can view a photo of the journal in it's first stage with stain applied at:  http://studioemmy.blogspot.com/2020/02/2020.html. It took several days for the metallic stain to cure. I buffed it to a sheen and made a mental note to use an acrylic paint the next time.

I like to plan out my mini albums, journals and greeting cards, but since I was stymied, I decided to just try to go with what I had in front of me. I pulled out a favorite paper collection. I had saved it for something special and I decided it was special to just be inside where we were safe and warm. I had noted on the package that I brought it home in April of 2017. It was indeed time to stop admiring it and cut into it. Any of you who are quilters, paper crafters, knitters or crocheters might identify with this phenomenon. For me, it is buying something beautiful to use in a quilt, a mini album, a journal, a wreath, or a knitted scarf, but I can't bring myself to begin. Is it the fear of not measuring up to my own expectations? As if there is only one chance to make this kind of piece in my lifetime? As my encouraging husband reminds me, "Just use it! You will find something you like even better the next time you shop." He's right. And that is why I have a paper and fabric hoard that fills two closets! Truth.

So, as the weekend storm continued, I chipped away at my project and started to enjoy the freedom I gave myself to just go with the flow and complete it. After all, it is for me to use and enjoy . . . that includes the construction phase. Below are photos and captions beneath the photos. Tap on the photos for a clearer view.

The cover.
The journal measures approximately 7" x 9"
I used fussy cut papers from DCWV's Le Tres Chic collection and from a postcard advertisement I received in the mail.

I tried a new-to-me binding method.

On the inside cover, I used a beautiful tag that a crafty friend in a Facebook group sent to me several years ago in a swap. Thank you, Rachel! I tucked a couple tags behind it. 

On the right, the first of five booklets. Each booklet has 12 pages for journaling.

Left: A die cut holds a couple tags.
Right: The second booklet sports a cutout from the paper collection. 

Left: a couple cutouts from the paper collection.
Right: The cover of the third booklet with more cutouts from the collection. 

Left: A cutout postcard from the collection is tucked behind the Eiffel Tower.
Right: I used a cutout for a pocket to hold a couple tags on the fourth booklet.

Left: A cutout used for a pocket to hold a couple tags.
Right: Two tags behind a tuck spot and a fussy cut dressform from the paper collection on the fifth booklet.

Left: A couple tags tucked behind a cut apart from the paper collection.
Right: Flaps that open to reveal a tablet of paper. 

A tablet with places to journal on the flaps that fold in to keep things in place.

A tablet for recording my thoughts.  

The back of the journal.

The interior of one of the booklets.

The tags and cutouts.
These are blank on the back so I can write on them.

You may wonder how a journal like this is used. There are many ways to use something like this. It can be a planner, a place to record dreams, story ideas, or to document ordinary and extraordinary days. I've come to the realization that writing things down helps me organize my thoughts and is well worth the time it takes to do so. And if it can be done in something pretty like this, that I've made with my own two hands, that makes it all the more enjoyable and meaningful.

Thank you for stopping by to read my post. Your questions and comments are welcome. I will read all of them and respond here on my blog or on Facebook. As always, you remain in my prayers, and until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy