Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Summer Farmhouse Kitchen Reveal, Part I


Here's a riddle for you. . . .
What's black and white and 'red' all over?

Do you know the answer? It's a very old one. . . .


This Summer, the answer is: Our Kitchen!!!!
(I'll give you the traditional answer at the end of this post.)

Or, I should say our Keeping Room. . . .the actual kitchen work area will be revealed in Part II next week. . . .I had so many great photos, it was hard to pick just a few. . . .so tune in next week again for another reveal! . . . . I've changed quite a few things in the kitchen. . . .you won't want to miss it. . . .


Today. . . .I'm showcasing the Keeping Room. . . .the heart of our home. . . .

What is a Keeping Room?. . . .Many of you have asked. 
A Keeping Room is an area off the kitchen of a home, dating back to Colonial times when families would sleep in that area because the rest of the house was cold. . . .It's now better known as a family or hearth room. . . .We prefer the age-old standard of  'Keeping Room'. . . .since we're 'colonial' at heart. . . .

During the Summer, there's no reason to fire up the hearth. . . .way too hot to cook in a fireplace. . . .I decided this year to turn it into a sitting area. . . .where we can easily entertain visitors while continuing to work in the kitchen. . . .or, for our own personal use for reading and relaxing a bit. . . .and a wonderful place to sit and gaze out the window early in the morning with a cup of coffee in hand.. . .no mosquitoes. . . .


I suppose you noticed that Fred (Ficus) moved from the bath to the keeping room?
He needed a little more sunlight. . . .I truly like him better here. . . .Along with fresh flowers, he brings garden style to the room, don't you think?


The doll house?. . . .Where is it?. . . .Moved to the living room where I can watch a little TV while playing. . . .You'll be sure to see it in later posts. . . .(grin)

Look at all the light coming in that window!. . . .I do love a bright room. . . .It gives me a little problem with photos but that's okay. . . .I'd rather have the light. . . .We don't curtain or drape the windows in this room. . . .Our nearest neighbor would need binoculars to see in. . . .One of the perks of living on a farm. . . .


 Another perk of living in an agricultural area is a constant food supply in the Summer. . . .Watermelon, apples,  strawberries, fresh veggies are abundant during this time of the year. . .Right now, it's harvest time for watermelon. . . .Fields and fields of them. . . .So, I pulled out the watermelon placemats, cut some limbs of raspberry color crepe myrtle and set the table for a watermelon-fruit fest supper. . . .that wouldn't be complete without. . . .


ice cream. . . .and. . . .


soda pop. . . .


tiny bottle aprons. . . .and. . . .


homemade oatmeal cookies. . . .Yum. . . .I do bake a 'mean' oatmeal cookie. . . .Maybe I'll share the recipe one day. . . .

I draped the table with sheer fabric. . . .and pulled out the printed feed bags. . . .farmhouse style all the way.


Another thing I like to do that brightens the room even more is to add the crockery pieces I've collected--and used--over the years. . . .Since Summers are filled with canning and freezing, I replaced the black cast iron pots with bowls and crocks.




I still keep the little sign 'Simplify' where I'm reminded each day of my goal. . . .added another thought to it for the Summer. . . .

'Bloom Where You're Planted'

Don't you love that phrase?. . . .Speaks words of wisdom. . . .Our Summer keeping room is a daily reminder of it with Fred and flowers and lots of light. . . .







What's black and white and 'red' all over?. . . .besides our kitchen?
A Newspaper!!!!

Be watching next week for the Summer Farmhouse Kitchen Reveal, Part II. . . .
Til then, here's a sneak peak. . . .


. . .from my farmhouse kitchen to yours. . .


Sunday, July 28, 2013

Country Sundays--A Found Treasure

I want to share a heart-warming story with you this Country Sunday. . . .Grab a cup of coffee and the tissue box and enjoy this story about a quilt, a group of church women, and a very caring lady who reunited the two. . . .


"I was browsing in a flea market near my home that spring afternoon in 1997, when I turned and saw it--an old quilt draped over a screen--large white squares were framed with soft pink cotton. But it was the contents of each square that made me stop and look more closely. Stitches of black thread radiated from the center of each square like spokes on a wheel. Names were embroidered between the spokes--an entire community, it seemed, of people named Armalee and Madie and Ruby and Errol. '376 of em, lady' the dealer said. I counted. The guy I bought it from said it came from somewhere in north Georgia. 'It's probably 50 years old.' He spread it on a table so I could have a better look. I continued to read, drawn into a whole new world of people who I had a feeling, were as interesting as their names--Chester, Western, Flossie, Fosters, Dr. John Walker--a doctor like me, I thought. In my mind, I pictured a kindly G. P. who had helped generations of the same family enter and leave the world. A doctor unlike me. I worked in a technology-driven world where everything was state of the art, and instead of a simple black bag, a few trusty medicines and a lot of reassurances, we had a galazy of 'miracle' drugs and HMO's.



The quilt was a relic from a more leisurely time. A better one, I thought wistfully. From the variation in stitches and style, I could tell many different hands had been involved. 'A friendship quilt', I said. I knew that people years ago often got together to sew--their names on a quilt as a special gift or project. My fingers stroked the cotton worn soft from wear and the nubby lines of embroidery. This will really mean something to the families of the people who stitched it, I mused. 'Might, if you could find them' the dealer said. Well, maybe I'd try. Impulsively, I bought the quilt. At home, I showed it to my husband and then spread it like a coverlet on the four poster bed in our guest room. I couldn't get it out of my mind. When I came home at night--tired after a long day of seeing patients, reading test results and keeping up with the endless paperwork--I flopped on the bed and traced the embroidered names with my fingers. Jane Corn, Pearl Ackla, Annie Moon. Where had they lived? Where had the quilt come from? And, what about Dr. Walker?

. . . .In places, the thread was knotted or twisted to cover up mistakes. Clearly, some of the ladies hadn't been skilled seamstresses. But that had not kept them from making their contribution. And, look--on one of the squares was stitched 'Kate and Mike' and a question mark. Did that mean Kate and Mike had been expecting a new baby? I smiled at the possibility. It was as if I had a roomful of grandmothers whispering stories of by-gone days. As I fell under the quilt's spell, I strongly felt the need to find out where this special blanket had some from and who might want it back. In July, my parents and sister Holly came from Kentucky to visit. Dad's an amateur genealogist and who had traced our family tree. Going to courthouses and libraries, he'd gone back generations, listing our ancestors on a length of wallpaper. Now that he'd retired, I asked Dad if he'd be interested in tracing the original owners of the quilt. After sleeping under the pink and white cover with the spiderweb of names, he too was intrigued. 'This seems like a long shot, but we'll give it a try', Dad said. 'Let's pick out twenty of the more unusual names, maybe we can track them down through government records.' Then my sister came up with another idea: Why don't we put the names on the internet?

The internet? It had not occurred to me that a search back through history could take place on the modern information hightway--ok, Dad--'go for it!' My family went home to Kentucky and went to work. . . .Chester Western? Nothing. . . .Flossie Foster? Nothing. . . . Joyce Luck, Zagaroli, Carter Harold Butterworth, Junior Moes and Beverly Snook. But no matches--no responses. . . .Then one day, I picked up the phone to hear Dad exclaim, 'I did a search and I've found Jane Corn! I got her number in Dahlonega, Georgia.' It turned out, though, that this Jane Corn knew nothing about the quilt. But, she said, 'It sounds like something my mother and grandmother might have helped embroider at a church.' At church! Of course, why hadn't we thought of that? She gave us the names of two churches they had attended--Elizabeth Baptist and Welcome Grove Baptist, both in Marietta, Georgia.

But, Dad's phone calls there produced no answer: 'No one at those churches knows anything about the quilt, but I did learn that they shared the same miniter, Ralph Foster, and one of the people I spoke to remembered the reverend had pastored another church on the outskirts of town--Chattahoochee Baptist.' The next day Dad called nearly shouting with excitement. 'I phoned the church clerk at Chattahoochee,' he said. 'The person who answered the phone sounded pretty young and didn't recognize any of the names, but she called their church historian Jeanette Samples, who is 76. 'Of course I know those people!' she said. 'We all made that quilt over 40 years ago. We stitched our names and gave it to Reverend Foster when he answered the call to another church and moved away.' They later learned that when he died, the quilt had been sold--never they thought, to be seen again.

It was time for the quilt to go home.


On a beautiful Sunday morning in November 1997, my parents and husband and I drove 200 miles to Chattahoochee Baptist Church to present the quilt to the congrgation. The quiet little clapboard country church I had pictured in my mind turned out to be a modern brick building on a six lane highway. But, the people were as welcoming and friendly as any old-fashioned congregation in my dreams. At the service, Dad and I presented the quilt. When Jeanette Samples got up to accept it her voice quivered. 'This is such a great joy, there are so many sweet names on here of folks who've gone on before us.'

Jeanette gave me a hug, warm and soft, like the quilt. Then we unfolded it and held it up so everyone could see. Her eyes filled with tears as her fingers closed on the square that she had embroidered so long ago with the names of her own family.

After the service, people crowded around, looking for the names of their relatives or of others they knew. Jeanette told me all she could remember about Annie Moon, Flossie Foster and others. And, what about Dr. Walker? Jeanette wasn't sure what happened to him. I was reminded of something a doctor had told me when I was a third year medical student: 'The person who your granny thinks is the best doctor didn't go to John Hopkins or do cutting edge research. The best doctor to her is the one who asked for her apple pie recipe and wanted to see a picture of her grandchildren' . . .



We wandered into the small graveyard out back where I saw Chester Websters tombstone, along with those of others whose names had become to dear to me. As Jeanette shared the stories, I felt a sense of continuity and community, and unbroken thread of joys and sorrows and laughter and prayers, running throughout time. That's something that will never change. People need to feel connected to one another and whether it's through a friendship quilt or the internet, God will find a way to bring us all together."

Dru Thomas Quarles, M. D.
from Threads of Encourgement


Warm & Soft Blessings this beautiful Sunday. . .

. . .from my farmhouse to yours. . .

Quilts: Buffalo Island Museum, Monette, AR


Tuesday, July 23, 2013

A Simple Idea for Organizing and Decorating with the Fabric Stash


Hi Everyone!
There's a new post at Our Old Country Store: Organizing the Rag Rug Stash that you might want to read. . .I wrote it with all the rag rugger friends in mind. . . .Then I started thinking. . . .(That's what gets me into trouble most of the time.). . . .The fabric bundles would be fantastic for decorating with my Simple Style. . . .

Something like this:


or this:

 

Lots of possibilities. . . .Thinking ahead to Fall, wouldn't a basket of fabric bundles, maybe a couple of fabric balls, and a pumpkin or two be adorable?

Be sure and hop on over to Our Old Country Store for more on the rag bundles and the story behind them.


On a more personal matter, I've taken a little time off for some "medical" tweaking. . . .Nothing serious and nothing that couldn't be fixed. . . .I'm slowly getting back to my ole self.
The email inbox is full! So, first thing in the morning, I'll be attending to that.

I have the Summer Kitchen ready for those photos I promised you. . . .
If the Lord's willing and the creeks don't rise (I mean this literally--it's raining cats and dogs here),
I'll be posting them this week.
There's not enough light to take good shots today--and maybe not tomorrow. . . .
plus, I'd like to cut a few fresh flowers from the garden, if they survive the heavy rain.
The white crepe myrtle was gorgeous before the storms.
I'm hoping it will bloom again as soon as the sun comes out.

See ya later this week. . .I hope!

. . .from my farmhouse to yours. . .


Sunday, July 21, 2013

Country Sundays--A Yard Sale Find


To "Maylia
Christmas 1955
from Leonie"
(inside cover)






A Book of Prayers and Graces
Selected and Compiled by Dorothy Sheldon
Illustrated by Pelagie Doane
World Distributors (Manchester) Limited
1955

Have a Wonderful Country Sunday!

. . .from my farmhouse to yours. . .

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

The Old Gray Mare She Ain't What She Used to Be


My body is falling apart!
This summer has been plagued with health issues for me. 
 I'm not one to tell much about my aches and pains. . .
but, so many of you have emailed,
wanting to know if I was okay--
since I've done so few posts
and have visited you even less.

I was hoping my health issues would soon be corrected.
Doctors take a lot of time.
I'm a tough case.

The dizzies I've been experiencing are mainly due to an inner ear problem.

Then last week, I began having blurred vision in one corner of one eye. . . 
very hard to do much on the internet, as the light bothers it. . . 
causing strain (and headaches at times) on my other eye.

I know it sounds alarming.
I'm not too worried, though.
It's very possibly a systemic problem that can be treated.



Here's the deal. . . 
The ear is better. . . The eye is a blur even now.
Blogging as often as I did will have to take a little bit of a back seat.
I'll still post as I can--I have so much to show you!
But, the frequency of the posts may continue to be slower for a time.
I do read all your comments and appreciate each one,
but during this time, I may not be able to visit with you as I would like.
I know so many have said I don't have to reply to their comments.
I WANT to! That's why we blog, isn't it?

Please hang in there with me. . .
I'll be posting as I'm able.
And, thank you so much for being so supportive!

"The old gray mare she ain't what she used to be,
ain't what she used to be,
ain't what she used to be.
The old gray mare she ain't what she used to be,
Many long years ago!!!!!"

. . .from my farmhouse to yours. . .

Friday, July 12, 2013

The White House


Just a little teaser for the Summer Farmhouse Kitchen. . . .A sneak peek. . . .


I may be going through my second childhood. . . .I have a tremendous desire to "play house". . . .


I never had a doll house growing up. . . .Don't remember ever asking for one. . . .Now, I can't pass one up. . . .Some loving Dad or Granddad crafted this "White House" for a special little lady. . . .I ran across it over 20 years ago for $5. . . .It became an addition to the living room--in a home that looked almost like the doll house itself. . . .



And, I furnished it the same as that house. . . .These are just a few of the pieces I was able to find this morning. . . .Somewhere I have many more. . . .


My nephews grew up playing with the White House. . . .I'm probably in trouble for telling that! . . . They played with my tea set, too. . . .(grin). . . .Maybe they won't read this post. . . .(grin). . . .

I haven't paid much attention to the White House for many years. . . .This morning when I was in my sewing room, my eyes caught a glimpse of it stored way in the back. . . .That's when it hit me. . . .the great desire to "play house". . . .

John helped bring it to the Summer Kitchen. . . .and there it will sit for the entire summer. . . .while I renovate and refurnish every room. . . .and will be as thrilled as a 6 year old. . . .

I remember as an adult, Mom asking Daddy if he thought I'd ever grow up? . . . .
"I sure hope not!" he'd say. . . .(grin). . . .

Who says we have to, anyway?


. . . from my farmhouse to yours. . .



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