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..."


Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Ruffles and Rain...









And the rains came down, for two days, soaking the earth and filling the streams to overflowing.  It was a wonderful time...even to make ruffles.

Perhaps I should hang a sign on the sewing room door, with the Las Vegas iconic advertising campaign slogan, "What happens here, stays here."  Oh, the stories this little doll could tell...countless face and hair makeovers, three torso revisions, two sets of legs and feet.  But, finally here she is...including that infamous dress with an attached ruffle.  Hopefully, I have learned a lot.  I think my next doll shall be one styled after the old Skookum Indian souvenir dolls.  Thankfully, they don't wear ruffles!
















Wednesday, November 11, 2015

The Ruffler...



Attachment Box which belonged to my grandmother...



The Ruffler and Foot Hemmer

Little Brother and Me  (notice the ruffles and smocking)
They were such fun little things to play with.  Mom didn't seem to mind that my little brother and I sat in the floor arranging the little sewing machine attachments  in all kinds of imaginary games, until... one day the ruffler went missing!

It was an amazing little gadget with its bewitching little up and down movement as Mom gathered ruffles, skirts, and sleeves.  She used this attachment often, and was extremely skilled in its use.  She seemed to know just the right adjustments for achieving the desired fullness, for her gathers always turned out beautifully.

And,  it seemed that my little brother also thought the ruffler was an amazing little gadget, for, as it turned out, he had taken Mom's special little attachment outside to his special dirt place where all kinds of construction projects were going on.  I don't remember who finally found the missing little ruffler, lost in the dirt, but I do remember that our home was in a crisis mode until it was found.

I do not have my mother's old treadle sewing machine and the attachments that went with it.  Wouldn't you know, my little brother does!  However, I do have my grandmother's old treadle and box of attachments, which would have been similar to my mother's.

A few days ago, when I decided that I would use a foot hemmer to narrowly hem a ruffle for the doll's brown dress, I discovered that my ten-year old Bernina didn't have one...nor a ruffler.  They are available for separate purchase, of course.  Thus, I pulled out my old Singer, which has both attachments, cleaned and oiled her up, and with a bit of practice, should have a narrowly trimmed ruffle ready to go...soon!


Ruffled and narrowly hemmed...

Practice on my old Singer...




Wednesday, November 4, 2015

November...



The Pond at Sunset...

The upper meadow...

Do your legs tire?

Morning visitors...

Too pretty to throw away...

Stitches...