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..."

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Farewell to 2016

2016 is fading fast, and all of us here at Chip Butter White Oak really can't say we're sorry.  We won't be looking back, but will keep our hands (and paws) on the wheel and look straight ahead into the brand New Year.  Thanks to all of you who take your time to stop by and walk with us as we explore these trails.  Happy New Year to you all!

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

2016 Photo of the Year...

Second Runner-Up...

First Runner-Up...

2016 Photo of the Year...

It has been a big year for this little shelter pup that was picked up by Animal Control from a ditch along the side of  a remote county road, along with a little brother, last Christmas eve. I can't help but wonder what the pups might have done that got them ousted from their previous home only one day before Christmas.  Perhaps they demolished the colorful lights and ornaments that adorned the Christmas tree... or tore apart the brightly wrapped holiday gifts decorated with shiny ribbons and sprinkled with glitter...  or maybe the stockings that had been hung with care were no longer hung at all!

 Millie was at the shelter, according to the records from December 24, 2015 until February 4, 2016, when we brought her home.  I won't say we "rescued" her, for I think, in reality, she may have rescued us. She has been a mega chewer, but it seems the worst is behind us.  If you should come calling, you'll not find a welcoming mat at the door, and that's for sure!  Congratulations, Sweet Mille (aka Dingo Dog)! 

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Merry Christmas

Wishing you all the old-fashioned, heartwarming joys of the Christmas season.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

It's All About the Blanket...

It really is all about the blanket.  And, that's the way it was back in  1913 when Mary McAboy (1876-1961) from Missoula, Montana, began to make her Skookum Indian dolls which depicted different Native American tribes, and usually sold as tourists' souvenirs.  Apparently, she had, at first,  arranged to acquire remnants from Pendleton Woolen Mills in Oregon and/or from Hudson Bay Company.  Later on, when the dolls began to be mass produced, colorfully designed felt-like cloth was manufactured specifically for the dolls.

Skookums don't have arms but are wrapped with Indian-style folded blankets so that it looks like they have folded arms.  (My dolls do have arms, but by the time I had finished folding and refolding this little blanket, I almost wished this doll didn't, either.)  Some Skookums have bead necklaces, papooses, hair ties, headbands, kerchiefs, feathered headdresses and more.  This doll has a papoose, a kerchief, and hair ties.  Her hair is sculpted from cotton floss and the braids are secured with painted pipe cleaners.  Her moccasins are sculpted from clay.

The blanket my latest "Skookum" inspired doll is wearing is cut from an old, very worn and thread-bare blanket, which, even now, is still quite beautiful. Of course, it is a given that I would want to use the most worn part of the blanket, for I like the look of black and brown together.  Well, no matter, tattered and worn matters not, for it is still all about the blanket.