About Blog Title...

As a child, it was one of my greatest delights to visit my grandparents in the spring when the whip-poor-wills began to call. Grandma and Grandpa lived in a remote valley of the Ozark Mountains where there were trees a plenty, and, seemingly, a whip-poor-will, or two, in each one.
My grandmother insisted that a whip-poor-will's call was not "whip-poor-will," but instead, "chip-butter-white-oak." I would listen really hard trying to hear it exactly as she said it was, but all I could hear was "whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,..." But, I never let on to her.
I remember my grandpa watching and listening, with an amused look on his face, to one of these listening sessions. Shortly after that he began to call me, just for fun, "Chip Butter." It is a name I am proud to wear for I still love to hear that long, lonesome call on a warm summer's eve. And, sometimes, when I listen really, really hard, it seems I can hear quite clearly, "chip-butter-white-oak, chip-butter-white-oak..."

Friday, August 15, 2014

Tweed Man and Y...

More weaving with Jude Hill...  I call this little woven piece Tweed Man.  I like making cloth.


Y has come out of her cocoon, and is now patiently waiting on a new dress.  However, her wait may be long, for these summer days I can be found more often in the seat of a John Deere tractor than in my sewing chair.  But, that's not bad, either... cranking up the radio with Waylon and Willie and the Boys, and an afternoon snack under a shade tree at the edge of the hay field.  Fun times...

"Take the ribbon from your hair,
Shake it loose and let it fall..."