SUN...GLORIOUS SUN!

False spring?? Opened windows and doors and breathed in the cool freshness of a March morning....

The pebble--- by Zbigniew Herbert

The pebble

is a perfect creature

equal to itself

mindful of its limits

filled exactly

with pebbly meaning

with a scent which does not remind one of anything

does not frighten anything away does not arouse desire

its ardour and coldness

are just and full of dignity

I feel a hevy remorse

when I hold it in my hand

and its noble body

is permeated by false warmth

-Pebbles cannot be tamed

to the end they will look at us

with a calm and very clear eye

Emily Dickinson

Ample make this bed.

Make this bed with awe;

In it wait till judgment break

Excellent and fair.

Be its mattress straight,

Be its pillow round;

Let no sunrise---yellow noise

Interrupt this ground.

TURKEY WORK!

Just finished these over the weekend.

I love turkey work!

You can find these adorable covers for sale at my shop...

www.andsewitgoes.etsy.com

Summer Soap

Bayberry, Lavender and Oatmeal Milk & Honey....

Busy making soap today.

It's hard to believe that in a few short months we will travel the "circuit" of art shows and festivals.

BY THE BAY SOAP COMPANY

This is my front parlor where I keep a display of my soap, lip balm, salve, salts, dream pillows and sachets.

We do a lot of soap "shows" juried and unjuried during the summer and boy are we looking forward to it this year!!

http://www.bythebayhandcraftedsoap.com

Mr. McGregor's Garden Shed

After visiting the botanical gardens in Green Bay a couple of years ago and after taking many pictures of the children's garden and Mr. McGregor's Shed...my husband and I built our own little garden shed with three raised beds where I grow herbs; chamomile, rosemary, woolly thyme, to name a few and wildflowers. I use many of the herbs in our handcrafted soap! We also have a Wisteria Arbor and after 3-years she is finally producing big purple flowers!

Looking for a sunset bird in winter-Frost

The west was getting out of gold, the breath of air had died of cold,when shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alight. In summer when I passed the place I had to stop and lift my face; a bird with an angelic gift was singing in it sweet and swift. No bird was singing in it now. A single leaf was on a bough, And that was all there was to see in going twice around the tree. From my advantage on a hill I judged that such a crystal chill was only adding frost to snow as gilt to gold that wouldn't show. A brush had left a crooked stroke of what was either cloud or smoke from north to south across the blue; a piercing little star was through.

Snow Flakes-Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the air, out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, over the woodlands brown and bare, over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent and soft and slow descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take suddenly shape in some divine expression, even as the troubled heart doth make in the white countenance confession, the troubled sky reveals the grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air, slowly in silent syllables recorded; this is the secret of despair, long in its cloudy bosom hoarded, now whispered and revealed to wood and field.

A time for quilting...

My frame is placed in the front-room parlor of our old house where it is the sunniest and warmest. Sometimes, my tuxedo cat Tibbits, hops up to take a quick nap, but not for long!

Winter thoughts

Winter has settled in and so has the family. This old Victorian creaks and groans with each blast of arctic air. I dread the thought of going outside even for the most mundane of tasks as it takes me forever to get warm again. I keep the wood stove stoked while the kids are in school and it helps to keep the furnace from running, but the mess is incredible... blankets of dust envelope the entire house. A small price to pay to keep warm!