The Color of the Month . . . RED!

A Valentine's Day wreath I made a few years ago.
I thought it was appropriate for todays' post.
💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

Go Red for Women®. Today is National Wear Red Day® to call attention to the number one health threat for women: Cardiovascular Disease. One in three women are dying from heart disease and stroke. This is a serious subject and in the times we are living, it isn't always pleasant to read about serious stuff. It is forced on us daily from every direction. And, in keeping with my theme, it ends up making us tense, elevating our heart rate and our blood pressure. So, where am I going with this? Please read on. It gets better. 💗

Here is a link to the American Heart Association where you can read about the steps you can take to help prevent heart disease and hopefully reverse this trend. Click here: goredforwomen.org  Both of my parents had symptoms of cardiovascular disease and lived into their 80's, but not without medicines to keep them going. If they both had earlier intervention, they might have had less severe symptoms and less tragic deaths. Watching someone you love decline due to their health is painful. Hopefully, with knowlege and action on our part, this will be turned around in our nation and in the world. 

We are encouraged to move more, practice deep breathing exercises, watch our diets and stress. It really isn't difficult. Well . . . maybe the stress part is harder because it often comes from without, not from within; and, of course, heredity plays a part in our health. We can't change that. But, in this time of shopping for groceries online, it is easier than ever to avoid the food danger zones at the supermarket. You know which ones I mean. Typically, they are in the last aisle we travel on our way to the checkout: doughnuts, oversized muffins, chips, dips, and ice cream to name a few. If these are on your shopping list, that's okay; but if they are purchased on impulse and not part of your food plan, I think you will agree that's not okay! By shopping for our groceries online, I have found that we have been able to avoid bringing home many of the "bad" choices and adding more fresh veggies and lower fat items to our grocery cart. Yes, it requires planning and even research to find recipes online. But if there can be one positive outcome of staying home day in and day out, it is learning to cook healthier food in healthier ways. Have cakes, pies, cookies and a few other goodies found their way into our menus these last 11 months? Of course. Those foods are special treats and I give myself a pass every once in a while! Every week when the grocery store flier is published online, we scour it for the BOGO's and sale items. We shop together online at two stores. We each work on our own list and then take a coffee break and decide together which things we need and where they are the best price. It takes some time, but it is a whole lot easier, in my opinion, than bundling up, going into the store, looking up and down the long aisles, packing the groceries into the cart, wheeling them over the bumpy snow-packed parking lot, unloading them into the trunk, getting home and unloading them, and so forth. I can shop in my jammies, have someone walk the aisles for me, communicate with me in real time chat about substitutions and all while I am safe in my home. I don't want to go to stores where there are other people who may not be following the CDC guildlines for Covid-19. Until this whole thing is over, and probably for the rest of my life, I will shop online and pick my groceries up curbside. It has been another of the positive outcomes of the pandemic. Since it is still unknown what lasting effects Covid-19 will have on people who have had it, I'd like to avoid it altogether, and that includes protecting my heart from possible damage. If you aren't already shopping for groceries online, I hope you will give it a try. Once in a while there are mistakes, but the stores are eager to make it right and will refund or credit your account. Driving up to a designated parking spot for curbside shopping is a blessing for which I am grateful. And protecting ourselves from Covid-19 exposure, from the possibility of falling on ice or snow and the general inconvenience of grocery shopping, makes it a win for us.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. It is my sincere wish that you and those you love are happy and healthy. As always, your comments are welcome and can be left here on my blog or on facebook. I will read them and respond. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand. 

💗

Emmy

Let it Snow!

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Wheat Stubble in Winter
Photo source: USDA NRCS, Public Domain 

It is the third week of January and there is a deep cover of snow on the ground. We haven't had much snowfall this winter and we need this blanket to protect the earth while it sleeps. Winter wheat, which was one of the crops grown on my family's cash crop farm, needs to be protected from icy winds and extremely cold temperatures. Planted in late summer, it starts to grow in the fall and by November, it looks like a field of green grass. In the spring, it begins to grow again and becomes a gorgeous field of gold that by summer takes my breath away. The depth of color and texture of a mature wheat field stops me in my tracks every time I see one and now, in the dead of winter with 20-degree days and windchills in the teens, by just thinking about it, I am transported to a place where gold surrounds me and the earthy smell of freshly harvested grain is in the air. 

Golden rows of wheat straw create a patchwork image in a field that was once farmed by my family.

When I close my eyes, I can envision the barn on our farm where the wheat was stored. Piled high after the harvest, the mountains of fresh little beads of wheat kernels were a great place for a farm kid to play, catch grasshoppers and chew on the delicate little wheatberries that were warmed by the sun just a few hours ago. The air in the barn was cool and in the late afternoon, the sun would cast shadows on the barn floor. Ribbons of ruby light would weave their way through the weathered boards to create a world suitable for the imagination of a little girl. The wheat crop not only gave us piles of wheat, tons of it if you read my father's diaries where he recorded every year's harvest; but also gave us glowing rows of golden straw as it was laid down from behind the John Deere combine in a pattern that has inspired many a patchwork quilt. As a child, fairy tales such as "Rumpelstiltskin" held my interest, although there was a rather sinister plot in that particular story. But, nevertheless, spinning straw into gold sounded quite wonderful to me. The wheat that found its way into my pockets and cuffs while climbing around in the barn, came spilling out onto my bedroom floor at night when I undressed. The sound was a sweet reminder of hours whiled away in the long afternoon of a summer day.

A view of one of the big barns on my family's farm with our 1860's Greek Revival house and horse barn in the distance.

The wheat and straw that we harvested on our farm were grown as cash crops. The wheat was bagged and sold to growers as seed wheat and the straw was baled and stored in the mows in our barns. It was sold to buyers who sent huge flat bed trucks to our farm and was carried away 20 tons at a time. Some of it made its way to the racetracks where, I was told, the horses were very fussy and they liked our straw. 

My dress form adorned with her glittery silver wreath. 

In January, it's nice to remember the sights, sounds, and smells of summer, but it is also important to me to give homage to the quiet slumber of the earth. In our home, I gravitate to colors that reflect the winter landscape in white and silver and for those infrequent days when we are relieved of our lake-effect cloud cover, I add some blue. It is like taking in a deep breath and slowly exhaling while it snows and we quietly wait for winter to wake from it's long sleep.

I made this wreath for our front porch last winter. Silver, white and blue is one of my a favorite color combinations for this time of year.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. I hope it may have evoked some memories for you. As always, your questions and comments are welcome. You can post them here on my blog or on Facebook. I will read each one and respond. It is my sincere wish that you and those you love are healthy, happy and safe. And, until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand. 

Emmy

Go Bills! 🏈

PRAYING FOR A WIN . . .

"Please, God. Let my team win. Please, please, please . . .", is one of the prayers being sent skyward this week by football fans across America. These prayers remind me of what it was like when I was a little girl and I would pray for God's help when I had done something I would be punished for . . . if my parents found out about it. I would pray, "Please, God! Don't let Mommy see that I broke her vase," or when I was a teen, "please don't let Daddy notice I used all the gas in the tank," when I was supposed to just drive the car to school and back home . . . not go joy-riding after school. I'd bargain with God and ask Him to let me off the hook one more time. I'd promise to behave and not break more vases or break the rules for using the car. It's the post-season playoffs for the AFC (American Football Conference) and the NFC (National Football Conference) in the NFL (National Football League). If this is news to you, then you must not watch your local news or read the feed on your internet news and social media . . . or live in Western New York, the home of the Buffalo Bills football games! After the year that just ended, this might be the sole thing in many Americans' lives that gives them joy . . . and heartbreak. But at least it is something familiar to them and not something that creates fear and confusion as they try to navigate their way in this pandemic-ravaged world. Praying is part of being a fan. Any fan will tell you they have sat on the edge of their seat, hands folded and head bowed at times during a football game. With the exception of a few lucky fans, the rest of the football-viewing world watched the games this season on TV. What a huge change this has been for them, the teams, the networks, the advertisers, the restaurants and other retail establisments that count on the revenue from the football season. But, that topic is for another blogger to sort out. I will focus this post on faith.

When it comes to faith, football and fans, there is an obvious (to me) connection, a fan believes in his/her team and has faith in them even when disappointed. Every team has fans and when they are let down they cry, get mad, walk away, yell at the TV . . . and in the end, they stay loyal to their team. They come back to the stadium or the TV again and again. They donate to the team's local charity drives. They are faithful. They will defend the team and take anyone to task who speaks negatively of them. They don't jump ship and run off to cheer for another team. That's not what a dyed-in-the-wool fan will do. It's not a whole lot different than my relationship with God. I thank him every morning for the gift of a new day. I ask for his guidance as I maneuver my way through it. There will be circumstances that require me to make decisions based on what I know, or based on some research on my part, or based on faith. I thank him for the big and the little things and likewise, I pray for the big and little things. I look for ways to support His work. And when I'm disappointed, I try to remember that all prayers aren't answered in my time. I need to be patient. Prayers are answered in God's time . . . like the lyric in a Garth Brooks song, "some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers". 

Even if you aren't a football fan, you've probably found yourself being thankful in 2020 for things you'd never have expected you'd even be thinking about. How many times did you go to the store or online and give out a squeal of joy or do a little happy dance when you actually found toilet paper to put in your shopping cart? Praying for disinfectant wipes . . . at least one canister . . . still isn't all that unusual. And, of course, the prayers that are lifted daily for those whose loved ones have been sick or taken by Covid-19 and for those working in the trenches of our medical facilities. Prayers, big and small are part of my daily life. When I can't find something, I usually go straight to God and ask him to lead my hands to whatever it is that is lost. And everytime . . . yes . . . everytime . . . He answers my prayer and I find it. Prayer and thanks are a big part of my days and part of many other people's across the globe. 

So when I sit on the edge of my seat this weekend and watch the playoff games, I'll be one of those praying fans. It feels a little funny to me to pray for a football game, but I will be praying and I will feel just like I did when I was a little kid, except I won't be bargaining with God the way I did then. I won't promise to be a better fan because I am already faithful. And I'll accept the outcome . . . hopefully the one I will be praying for. Now, if I could be as fanatical about my faith . . . but thinking about it is a start. 

Thank you for taking the time from your day to read this post. As always, your questions and comments are welcome. You can leave them here on my blog or on Facebook. I will read them and I will respond. It is my sincere wish that you and those you love are healthy and safe. And . . . for my football congregation . . . Go Bills! 🏈

Emmy

Picking the Tree

It is the first week of the new year and for the first time ever my husband and I are both ready to start taking down our Christmas decorations early. As it is, we didn’t really get them put up until Christmas Eve. And, it wasn’t like we didn’t have time this year to decorate. No. That’s not why we didn’t get the house decorated early . . . like we thought we would. I mean, with being sequestered in our home and keeping ourselves isolated from the rest of humankind, we thought it was a sure thing that we’d be sitting by the fire in our warm robes all of December, especially this Christmas of all Christmases! But human nature is a funny thing. We couldn’t seem to get off the dime. Hauling the bins of decorations down the stairs and putting up the tree and getting the lights on it seemed like a gargantuan task. By waiting until the week before Christmas, it was a lot easier to put up just the necessary and most precious decorations. I think our psyches needed simplicity and that’s what they got. Sparsely decorated mantels, a simply decorated tree in traditional red, gold and silver . . . without the lush garlands and over-the-top floral picks I am so prone to poke in every bare spot I can find in the tree.

So, just a couple days after Christmas, I was ready to take down all the decorations. I didn’t know how my husband would feel about it because he absolutely loves all things Christmas. In fact, he is one of the jolly elf’s ambassadors. He has been Santa on many occasions for almost 40 years. When I really had enough of our decorated house, I asked him how he was feeling about still having the decorations up and to my surprise, he said he was also ready to take them down because Christmas this year hadn’t had the same feeling as it usually does. 

As I started taking ornaments off the tree, I remembered a quaint expression my mother always used when it was time to take down the Christmas tree. She called it “picking the tree,” and when I was a kid, it always made me giggle. As I picked the tree this week, I thought a lot about my mother. Like all of us, her Christmases weren’t always the same and there were some holiday seasons that were less festive because of events that happened that year. She and my father both lived during the pandemic of 1918 and two world wars that took the lives of friends and neighbors, the Great Depression, family tragedies and personal things she never disclosed to me. 

As I get older, I feel more of a kindred spirit with my mother. As different as I used to think we were, I have discovered we were more alike than I ever realized. As we begin a new year filled with uncertainties, I hope I can muster up the fortitude my mother had. She lived a life full of personal challenges and triumphed beyond even her own expectations by sheer determination. From being so small when she was born that she wasn’t expected to live, to being unable to sit up or walk until she was 4 years old and so many other things she endured. (I wrote about my mother in a previous post. You can read it here: https://studioemmy.blogspot.com/2018/05/as-mothers-day-approaches.html?m=0) I hope we can all do likewise and come through this difficult time with an appreciation for each other and what is truly important in our lives . . . to survive in ways we never would have imagined we’d find necessary in our lifetime. I wrote about “hope” last week and today, my closing thoughts are about “fortitude”. Let’s all strive to be strong and have courage.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. It is my hope that you and those you love are healthy and happy. Your questions and comments are always welcome here on my blog or on Facebook. I do read them and will respond. And until we meet again, may the Lord bless you and hold you in the hollow of His hand. 

Emmy

2020 . . . and Hope

Two of the many masks I've made during the pandemic. I gave them to family, friends and instacart delivery reps who were willing to shop for us. When elastic became scarce,  I used ribbons for the ties. There's a pocket in the masks I make where you can insert a filter. Come 2021, I'll be making many more of these.
 They'll be part of our lives for many more months.

As I reflect back on the year that just passed and think about the one we are about to begin, my confidence is a bit shaken. My beliefs have been tested. My perceptions have been altered. The global community is connected in a way that has brought us closer, but keeps us farther apart.

When I think of the hope that a new year promises, it doesn’t mean the same to me today as it did a year ago. But, perhaps that is part of living during a pandemic. I need to fine tune what hope means to me. Three words that come to mind as I consider this are acceptance, appreciation and anticipation. I wasn’t going for alliteration, it just happened to turn out that way. And maybe that is part of the shift that I need to make in my thoughts on hope. Perhaps it is a shift to a new understanding and that sometimes . . . things just turn out that way.

If I accept the situation I am now living in, then I can move forward while living in isolation. One of my doctors asked me how I was spending my time, where I was going, if I was always wearing a mask and practicing social distancing. My response was that going to doctor appointments was the highlight of my social life. Otherwise, I have remained home except for necessary trips to a few other places and talking to the curbside staff from a distance while they load my groceries in the hatchback of my SUV. And, yes, I always wear a mask. I keep one at the front door so it is handy in case the doorbell rings . . . which it rarely does! My doctor urged me to stay connected and involved. He said, “that is what Facebook is for”. I agree. Listening to podcasts, watching YouTube videos and joining Facebook groups who meet weekly in real time have helped fill my need for social interaction. Learning new things has kept my mind occupied, and like just like about everyone else I know, experimenting in the kitchen has expanded my recipe file. Good old fashioned phone calls may be passe in this day and age of texting, but I love talking on the phone. Checking in with someone and hearing their voice means more to me than reading a few sentences punctuated with emojis and abbreviations that I need to look up on Google! Then there is Zoom. Where would we be without it? I have enjoyed seeing friends and relatives on Zoom and am thankful for the technology that keeps me connected to others. This is how we live our lives now. This is acceptance.

Getting organized is a January tradition that many of us, including myself, partake in every year. Without fail, I make lists, set goals, empty cupboards and drawers, clean closets, and purge my belongings that no longer serve me. Purging is the hard part. I get attached to my stuff and have a hard time letting it go. But going through the exercise of organizing gives me an appreciation of the things I have. Many of them are associated with memories of the people who gave them to me or of the places I found them when shopping in a little boutique while on vacation. This is appreciation.

This is the first blog post I have made since last mid-March. Every time I sat down over the last nine months to compose a post, I didn’t feel like I had anything to write that was as important as what each of you, my dear readers, were going through in your own lives. Many days seemed to just morph into the next, and that was a recurring theme that I kept seeing on social media and on TV ads. But this is the end of 2020 and we are all about to enter into a new year . . . one of hope . . . however you define it. This is anticipation.

It is my prayer that you and those you love are healthy, happy and safe. And until we meet again, may the Lord bless you and hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

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