Farmgirl Follies

Great-great discovery: history and handiwork

Posted by Farmgirl on September 29, 2009  |  9 Comments

The phone call went something like this: “I’m cleaning out my attic and I have a big box of dress-up clothes the kids used to play in. If you want it, come and get it. Otherwise I’ll throw this stuff away.”

Never one to pass up possible antiquities, I scurried on over. I did not find a box of old Halloween costumes and dress-up clothes. What I discovered was a woman’s wardrobe … from another time.

“Whose clothes were these?” I asked in astonishment.

“Oh, mother’s things and probably Grandmother Andrews.”

Stuffed in a cardboard box in an attic … a treasure trove of ancestral attire. Rows of buttons. Metal stays. Delicate lace. Silks and velvets. And the tiniest, most precise stitches I have ever seen.

And they belonged to my great-grandmother. Or possibly my great-great-grandmother. No one knows for sure.

“Do you want them?” she asked.

[Insert hysterical, gleeful laughter coming from a speechless farmgirl]

What do you do with a box full of antique suits, hats, cloaks and skirts?

You grab your eight-year-old and force her to endure metal wires in her side and shallow breathing techniques while you position her in various period-style  poses. And all the while she’s balanced precariously on a stool because although the ancestors were skinny as a rail, they were taller than your eight-year-old.

And after the photos and the positioning you marvel … at the size of the women that came before … and at their handiwork.

This parasol happened to belong to my grandfather’s grandmother. It matched perfectly with this outfit from my grandmother’s grandmother. I wonder if this is a mourning outfit or does the lace mean it was social attire?

The skill to make such a garment … the jacket is lined with stays sewn in by hand. There is an interior placket of buttons, the black neck piece is a separate flap that hooks over the interior buttons. And then the outward row of buttons with the lace trim. Each “layer” is lined. I wonder how long it took to create such a garment?

Looks about like the underwire in my bra. Look at the tiny hand-stitching. And the colorful lining was a surprise!

The interior buttons.

And the outer buttons. The black piece with the tan backing goes across the upper chest and neck. It hooks over the interior buttons, and under the outer layer of black buttons. I cannot imagine trying to sew something like this!

I adore the hem of this skirt with its velvet bands and layers of ruffle.

But this …

… this is my favorite. I love it. I love the color … if I weighed 85 pounds I’d be wearing this everywhere! And not to be inappropriate, but the underarms show signs of perspiration. And I can’t help but think where my great-grandmother or great-great-grandmother may have been wearing this. What was she doing? Was she nervous or warm? Was she working or simply walking in the sun?

Beautiful, metallic buttons adorned with a bird. Ornate. Special. Where did she wear this lovely garment?

I wish I knew.

And where was this worn? A silken lining is rather tattered, but it shows the heavy, warm woolen lining underneath. The outside of the garment is velvet with lovely embroidery and beading. The collar is adorned with some kind of feathers. It’s rather exquisite.

Who? What? Where? When? Why? How?

Never to be answered … but there’s great entertainment in imagining. And there’s a great history lesson in this afternoon’s accidental discovery. One I’m pretty sure my daughters will remember for years and years to come!

P.S. TwinMama, Nashville, GeorgiaPeach & TheTexan: I have something to send to each of you if you want it!

What I love about fall …

Posted by Farmgirl on September 27, 2009  |  3 Comments

… is family first, of course. Followed by time spent at Manfull Orchards Farm Market. My kids (and my siblings’ kids) are the seventh generation to enjoy our family’s fruit and vegetable operation … and the free pumpkins!

But that’s not all. Sweet corn and tomatoes and fresh veggies in summer … peaches and apples and cider and Indian corn and squash and apple butter and … memories.

Memories are made every single ordinary day.

Even when we’re not trying to make a memory out of something, it happens. Something as simple as seeing your first pumpkin …

… might somehow impact how you feel about those jolly, orange globes every autumn after.

And whether it’s a memory about grandmothers or cousins or brothers … it shapes who we are.

Raking leaves with a cousin might not seem memorable at the time …

Maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe it’s a simple feeling of warmth, of safety … of a connection to family that envelopes us when we’re 35 and raking our own yard.

We may not be able to commit every detail to memory, but every detail shapes who we are, regardless. We don’t have to make a memory. We simply have to enjoy the here, the now … the simple things.

Those are the most memorable of all.

Bandit of the night

Posted by Farmgirl on September 26, 2009  |  1 Comment

This is just a quick little weekend post about a wonderful lady I’ve met in the blogosphere: Jayme, the Coop Keeper. Not only does she post fabulous recipes, decorating ideas and general blog fodder, but she also has a cute little chicken coop that makes me envious. And her hens … so very talented!

Racoons! A nasty old coon caused great havoc in Jayme’s coop awhile ago. And she was inspired to write a song about it. She shared it on her blog, and I’d like to share it with you — hope she doesn’t mind!

Go check out Tales from the Coop Keeper — a glimpse in the life of a rural Indiana farmgirl wannabe. Her song is charming, funny, hilarious, truthful, heartfelt and sincere — and a definite warning to those bandits of the night!

May we all be as fun-loving, facing life head-on-with-a-smile (and a shotgun, if necessary), as The Coop Keeper!

And Jayme, if you read this … my girls have been whistling the tune of your song  for two days!

When the sun goes down

Posted by Farmgirl on September 25, 2009  |  4 Comments

Don’t forget to STOP.

And look.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Topsy-turvy, upsy-daisy, wrecking-ball sort of day

Posted by Farmgirl on September 24, 2009  |  8 Comments

My girls were about this size when we moved into this house. For awhile they shared a very large bedroom. Somewhere along the line, we I decided we should build a wall down the middle of the room to create two separate spaces.

That was when I decided to rip up the forest green carpet. It offends my sensibilities and clashes with just about everything I own. Or at least I perceive that it does. (Room by room I’ve been removing that green carpet … but that’s a  tale for another day.)

The great wall of sisters. Farmboy came along nine months after we moved here. Somehow, he ended up with the largest bedroom in the house … but the sisters didn’t care because they each had their own room.

Over the last six months or so I’ve heard rumblings of distress, consternation and disdain for those separate spaces. Somehow, they’ve decided they should move in together. Again. Now that they’re older.

For some incomprehensible reason … I gave in today. Today I tore up three bedrooms and turned the upstairs into a disaster zone that rivals Hurricane Katrina, minus the water.

Farmboy is thrilled. Perhaps because now he’s even closer to the top of the stairs. It won’t be so far to walk when he gets out of his bed umpteen times a night before falling asleep. (I’ve tried it all SuperNanny … I’ve even taken notes from your show. He gets up, consequences or no.)

Here’s the room after we cleared the girlie stuff:

(Imagine it with green carpet. See what I mean?)

I was worried about the fairies. You see, sister #2 loves them. “Do you reeeeeally want to leave them?” I asked. Then, just to be sure, I handed them a scraper and the bottle of DIF. If they could commit to peeling away their early childhood, then they were old enough to decide to move in together. Right?

They weren’t as traumatized as their mother. I had carefully selected these charming fairies for my sweet little then three-year-old’s room. And now they’re gone.

Have you heard of Wallies? They are wallpaper cut-outs. They’re perfect for people like me who want to dress up a wall, but can’t commit to an entire room full of wallpaper. And bonus: they’re small enough that you can enlist child labor for removal.

Bye-bye fairies. I will miss you forever, just like the sweet green, cream, yellow and pink Peter Rabbit wall border in my baby girl’s room back in 2000. But that was another house. My first love house.

Excuse me while I get a tissue …

So basically, the house is a wreck. But I did make progress in the former fairy hideaway, turned cowboy bunkhouse. Want to see?

First I pulled out my handy-dandy black spray paint. Of course. I can’t redecorate without painting something black. It’s an addiction. And I’m fully committed to it.

I bought this bed at a used furniture store last November, when it was time for the little man of the house to have a big-boy bed. It was too cold to paint then, and I’ve been meaning to take things apart and do it all summer.

Good things come when those who wait

and wait 

and wait 

finally get their rear in gear!

The bed looks MUCH better now.

I knew it would! Isn’t it great when your dreams are realized?

Please pardon my bedskirt. It fits a queen-sized bed, but I couldn’t pass up such a fabulous $2 bargain at Goodwill!

This red dresser/basket thing-a-ma-bob came from a yard sale. It’s actually a nursery dresser — see the little balls on top? Those used to be pink, blue and white and the dresser was a blonde wood stain. The door was already missing. I just slapped on some red paint, found baskets to fit the shelves and ta-dah, perfection for $20.

And then there’s this dresser. Someone stripped it, then rubbed on some blue paint and wiped it off. Or something.  Whatever the case, it’s the color of your favorite faded Wranglers or Levi’s, and it’s my favorite.

I want to be honest about something, though. This room doesn’t really look like this. Two seconds after I took this photo, that bucket of toys was all over the floor, the bed had been jumped on and 50,000 marbles rolled under the bed.

But for one moment in time, it was perfectly photogenic.

And Farmboy has a room to sleep in tonight.

I can’t say the same for his sisters.

I still have to ”renovate” the old Farmboy room. Translated, that means I have to rip up some green carpet. Don’t tell FarmGuy. It’s best if these things occur when he’s not around.

He can’t ever envision my visions, but usually he likes the end result.

Usually …

Message on a bottle

Posted by Farmgirl on September 23, 2009  |  5 Comments

History’s mysteries. I’ve stood in front of, beside and near this cupboard many, many times. And until recently, I didn’t know the wealth of information hidden within.

At some point I’m sure the doors were opened and its secrets revealed … before I was older and wise enough to take notice. I took notice the other evening.

A vast, marvelous collection of historical treasure amassed over decades … from previous centuries. Still revealing secrets after so many years.

For instance … I didn’t know that the tiny little town of Augusta had an apothecary on Main Street!

And this one … with its handwritten instruction for renewed health and vigor. Whatever it is, they crossed out one “desent spoonful” and wrote “half Table” spoonful.

If you’ve ever wondered how much a decent spoonful is, now you know!

Yesterday’s treasures. What are you keeping today that will fill the next generations with awe and wonder? What treasures will you preserve so those who come after will remember those gone before?

Every farm has priorities …

Posted by Farmgirl on September 22, 2009  |  No Comments

… and around here, folks like to spell ’em out for everyone.

And they make sure things are readable from all points of view. 

Grandma and Grandpa really know how to keep my kids entertained!

Vote for dirtbags!

Posted by Farmgirl on September 22, 2009  |  3 Comments

 My boy doesn’t like toys.

Go ahead, rub your eyes and adjust your glasses. You read correctly.

Want to know what engages his mind, fosters creativity and fuels his imagination?

Good old-fashioned outdoor antics.

Get the latest Flash Player to see this player.

Made In China can’t compete with this kind of entertainment. It’s better than any jungle gym, high-priced trendy toy or video game.

I vote for dirtbags!
Mandate piles of dirt for every child in America. And then …

Brace yourselves for this radical idea:

Let the children play in the dirt!

Everyone needs to get their hands dirty — and often. That, ladies and gentleman, would solve a whole pile of problems in this country … perhaps not the dirty laundry situation, but one issue at a time.

I hold this truth to be self-evident:

God made dirt, and dirt don’t hurt. 

In fact, it could make us healthy, wealthy and wise … if only we’d let it.

Vikings have landed

Posted by Farmgirl on September 21, 2009  |  No Comments

Meet Knut … fierce Viking warrior.

We’ve been studying Scandinavia and its raiders … very appealing to three rambunctious punks. They welcome any chance to put on a performance, so we made foil helmets and fierce fighting swords, and skillet-lid shields.

And Farmguy was presented with an after-dinner production of, “The Vikings Sail Scandinavia.”

Knut and his wife, Astrid (far left) have a young son. They are training him to be a raider. As you can see, he stands in awe at his older sis — er, I mean — Knut, his father. His mother knows how to wield a sword as well.

This Viking family told the audience about pillaging and raiding and conquering. They described the longhouses and the warships and how Vikings were fine craftsman … and then they went right back to depicting Viking battles.

Because that’s what kids — er, I mean — Vikings did … wage war on common folk.

Boy the Barbarian loves the battle scenes.

No surprise, there.

Here’s some trivia as you battle through your week.

Can you name the northernmost town in the world?

Here’s a hint:

And here’s another:

Answer: Hammerfest, Norway.

Homecoming king

Posted by Farmgirl on September 20, 2009  |  3 Comments

Once upon a time, Old MacDonald left the farm for a week of travel and business-related exploration in distant, desert-like lands. All sorts of cranky, moping, pouting, prickly, helpless, sordid affairs occurred in his absence.

Grouchy, grim escapades that aren’t worth mentioning in front of decent folk.

But finally the day came for Old MacDonald to hop on the plane and head back to his farm and the cows and chickens and horses and dogs and cats and farm girls and farm boys and the goldfish.

And do you know what happened when he arrived at home?

This.

And this … 

… and this.

And lots of these.

And just in time, too. Because Mrs. MacDonald was beginning to feel like a prickly pear.

Which made Old MacDonald’s suitcase full of surprises all the more appropriate.

Because the folks on Old MacDonald’s farm all needed a bit of sweetenin’ up.

Hark! The first ingredient in the jar of Cactus Jelly was sugar!

Which is why farmboy loved it, of course.

And so did one of the farm girls.

But one farm girl went into sugar shock … because she was sweeter than all of them already.

Some think the youngest farm girl is immune to prickly-pear syndrome, but only time will tell.

Anyway …

Mrs. MacDonald breathed a huge sigh of relief when Old MacDonald came home, because everyone was happy and smiling again — including her.

In fact, she was so glad to see Old MacDonald that she kissed him wildly, grabbed the car keys and called merrily over her shoulder, “I’ve missed you so much, dear! I’m so glad you’re home! The children are washed and fed … I’m outta here!”

EE I EE I O!

The end.