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..."


Wednesday, October 25, 2017

The Changing of the Seasons...






While I was intent on admiring the changing of colors around the pond, Millie seemed to be interested in something else.  She is a magnificent animal, having amazing speed and agility, so in a flash, she was out of the water and around to the other side to sniff and smell and listen. 








The other side...




The first fire of the season...



The mornings have been  down right chilly here, so last evening we enjoyed a cozy warm fire in the wood burning stove.  The first fire of the season is rather a celebratory event for us - a true changing of the seasons.  It's a time we always look forward to.




Ecoprint Dyed Cloth...



I am still struggling on in Embroidery School.  Other than watching videos, about all I have done is to choose fabrics for the first lessons.   Even though the instructor used three different pieces of white silk, I have selected pieces of my Ecoprint dyed cloth.  The pages of my cloth book, if ever completed, will definitely have a different look!

Distractions abound here in the sewing room, causing my attention to stray from the lengthy video lessons. It seemed during one particular session, that the shelves in an old cabinet just had to be dusted and straightened.  And, at another time, The-Doll-That-Wouldn't-Sit just had to have a new, larger body stitched on.   ( I think I might have to replay those videos!   And, to think that I was a teacher for a lot of years!  I should know better!)




















Wednesday, October 18, 2017

To Go, or To Not Go, That is the Question...









A wonderful sewing basket...   A lucky find for I've never seen another ...



There was a time when almost nothing could have stopped my going!  The calendar would have long since been marked.  There would have been no forgetting the War Eagle Mill and Craft Fair scheduled for the third weekend in October when thousands of eager shoppers would be heading to the beautiful hills of Northwest Arkansas for the annual event.

I had been afflicted with a fever...basket fever!  I remember well the first year we attended the fair, and still have the first basket I bought.  Each year afterward,  I would save my dimes and dollars in anticipation of the next year's new basket.

With each year's fair, the fever that possessed me grew even worse, and went completely out of sight the year Millicent Phillips first brought her wares to War Eagle Fair.  Millie's baskets created from  natural materials found in the Ozarks ~ snake bones, Cattails, Turkey Berry Vine, Cacamus, Philodendron, Crossvine, Rattan Vine, Willow Bark, Grape Vine, twisted grass dyed with walnuts, Virginia Creeper~  were truly unique and beautiful.  I loved them all!  Choosing just one to take home was the hardest thing...

  


My first Millicent Phillips vine basket...


More of Millicent's work...


Snake bones and clay beads Millicent fired in her wood-burning stove...  (She told me that!)


My favorite Vine Basket...


Actually, to attend this year's fair was but a fleeting thought...  Millicent is there no more; nor the other basket makers, either. And, there are things that need doing here.  There's the trail to be walked.  Millie and I are on somewhat of a marathon, having walked it 103 days without a miss.  (We have missed 27 days in 2017.)  We (Millie and Me) are thinking it might be fun (and healthy) to see how far we can continue this streak into winter.  Millie is beginning to get her winter coat and I still have the old green wool, so we will be good to go, unless....
   

We haven't missed in 103 days...




Tuesday, October 10, 2017

October... (As seen through my eyes and through Henry David Thoreau's words)







To anticipate, not the sunrise and the dawn merely, but, if possible, Nature herself!  How many mornings, summer and winter, before yet any neighbor was stirring about his business, have I been about mine...So many autumn, ay, and winter days, spent outside the town, trying to hear what was in the wind, to hear and carry it express!  I well-nigh sunk all my capital in it, and lost my own breath into the bargain running in the face of it.  ~Thoreau



Summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf... ~Thoreau



If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.  Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."  ~ Thoreau (That's Millie and Me!)


I have spent many an hour, when I was younger, floating over its surface as the zephyr willed, having paddled my boat to the middle, and lying on my back across the seats, dreaming awake... ~Thoreau




  I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.  ~Thoreau



In summer we live out of doors, and have only impulses and feelings, which are all for action, and must wait commonly for the stillness and longer nights of autumn and winter before any thought will subside; we are sensible that behind the rustling leaves, and the stacks of grain, and the bare clusters of the grape, there is the field of a wholly new life, which no man has lived; that even this earth was made for more mysterious and nobler inhabitants than men and women.  In the hues of October sunsets, we see the portals to other mansions than those which we occupy. ~Thoreau