Spring!

There are crocuses in bloom! It must be spring!

This spring has been strange, I think. We've had several weeks now of continuous warm weather. We've lost a lot of snow in a hurry because it's even been above freezing overnight. A couple of drizzly-rainy days contributed a lot, too.

At the risk of "jinxing" it, I even mentioned the other day that it's past the middle of March and we haven't had our usual March snowstorm, or Tourney blizzard, or any snow at all. March used to be our snowiest month. Global warming, maybe? Well, THAT is a subject for a different post!

Anyway, it's strange, in a nice way, to have the crocus coming up from the earth, not from a pile of snow.

Posted this on Facebook, but I love it so much, it's going here, too, to save it forever:

Awake, thou wintry earth -
Fling off thy sadness!
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness!
~Thomas Blackburn, "An Easter Hymn"

A new adveture awaits

I have been accepted for an internship at a farm in Wisconsin for the summer! I'm very excited, but a little nervous, too. I will be there from mid-April 'til sometime in October. That's a long time! But, I'll be home on weekends, so that should make it easier. I'm hoping to keep a journal of this wonderful opportunity, and turn it into a part of this blog.

My first assignment as an intern? Bring with me a list of goals I hope to accomplish over the summer!

Wish me luck!

http://www.smithgardensfarm.com/index.html

What exactly is Heidi Creating these days?

This time I thought I'd share some of my latest creations.

The scarf is only partially my creation. It was knitted for me by my fabulous step-mother. (Knitted? Is that really a word?) Saw some trim for sale at the fabric store once with little pastel buttons dangling from bits of rick-rack. I thought it was so cute...till I saw the $12/yard price tag. The scarf is so wide, I would have needed almost 2 yards! Then, I heard the little voice in my head: “I could make that myself!” I have a love/hate relationship with that voice. It's always telling me I can do that myself, but never gives me the time to do it. It took me a while, but I did actually create the trim for the scarf. I love it!





I have also recently been on a purse kick. The purse with the dots was the first one. It turned out great, and even made one for a friend just like it. But, for me, its a bit small. So, I thought I'd try again, making it bigger. I increased the size of each of the stripes, but once they were sewn together, I realized it was going to be too big. My choices were to rip the seams between the stripes and trim each one proportionately to keep the look of the first bag (not), or just take some off the top and some off the bottom. That's what I did, but when it was finished, I no longer liked the look of the stripes. The green one was just too big.

I figured, since I'm not real keen on it, I'd post it on my Etsy site (www.HeidiCreates.etsy.com). And I was back to the smaller purse, and back to the drawing board, so to speak.

I actually go in phases with purse sizes. I'll carry around everything but the kitchen sink, until I get tired of it. Then, I'll see a cute small purse and buy it (or, now, make it!). After a while, I get frustrated because I always seem to not have what I want/need because it doesn't fit in my purse. Eventually, I go back to a bigger one, that I either already have and return to service, or I find a new one to buy. (Bad, bad Heidi.) I'll carry around everything but the kitchen sink, until I get tired of it. Then I'll see a cute small purse...

After my near-successes with making purses, I was back perusing the all-mighty Internet for more ideas. Lo and behold, there were ideas-a-plenty. I found a picture of one that I really liked, but wasn't willing to cough up to buy the pattern for it. So I had to make it up. It's the floral one. It turned out kind of like the original picture, but that's all just part of the creative process. (At least, MY creative process!) Even if I'm trying to copy something, it never turns out quite the same. 99 times out of 100, I'm ok with that. I really like the purse, and I've gotten compliments on it, which is always nice.

There always seems to be room for tweaking, though...

What was your grandparents' home like? Did it have a certain smell or look?

When I first read this question about my grandparents' home, my thoughts immediately when to a place they lived when I was very little. I barely remember the place. For most of my memorable existence, they lived at “The Cabin” in Siren, Wisconsin, a place they'd owned as long as I can remember. But, the place they lived before moving there is what comes to my mind as their home. The Cabin was still The Cabin, even after they lived there. Weird, huh?

Anyway, the place I think of as their home: I'm pretty sure it was in Minneapolis (proper). And I seem to recall driving past some kind of plant or warehouse or something with a huge Purina logo on the wall. I think it was the upper portion of a duplex.

It did have a certain smell and look and feel. I can't describe the smell, but I bet I'd know it if I smelled it again. Our sense of smell is the most strongly connected to memory of all our senses. When they switched dish washing soap at the cafe I used to work at, on my very first sniff I was hit with a flash of my grandma. It was the same soap she'd used forever.

In my memory, my grandma was always either cooking something, or cleaning up after it. If there wasn't something on the stove, I'd smell that dish soap. It even clung to her hands for some time after she'd finished washing.

To me, the place always seemed dark. But, in a cozy, homey kind of way. Dark paneling, probably small windows, big, dark, overstuffed furniture with hand-crocheted throws on them. And, I remember it being warm inside. Probably came from being on the second floor.

There was always a dish of hard candies on the table next to the sofa. Those striped, wavy ribbon-looking candies. Never liked them, never ate them, but they were always there. (I also remember a candy dish of one kind or another when they moved to the cabin, and even when they got their place in Florida. Someone must have been eating them...I hope!)

There was a little store somewhere nearby, too, that we could walk to for ice cream. I know my sisters and I have had this conversation, and I think they remember the name and what that place was like, but I don't. I just remember being able to walk to get ice cream.

And, they had tinker toys. We didn't have tinker toys at home, and none of my close friends had them. It was something that was special about Grandma and Grandpa's.

I loved that, and hope I can recreate the special feelings, if not concrete memories, when my own grandchildren come along.

What games did you play in your home or neighborhood?

My family loves games. Always has. And, we love everything. Board games, card games, puzzles, action games, word games, dice games. You name it, we'll try it, and we'll probably like it.

Some past and present favorites, in no particular order: Sorry, Life, Monopoly, Clue, Gin, Poker, a million other card games I can't remember the names to, Yahtzee, Pit, Chess, Royal Rummy, Risk, Bogle, Scrabble, Scene It... This is a bad idea. I could go on forever.

Yeah. My family loves games.

The “neighborhood” games don't stand out in my mind as much, but I remember playing kick the can, we went through a double dutch jump rope phase, roller skating (is that a game? Or a sport?!?). Mostly, with my friends, though, I remember playing with toys, Fisher Price Little People (back when they were small enough to swallow—it's amazing we lived to adulthood), Barbies, playing house (“you got to be the mom last time!!!”) etc.

I love games. I wish I could play more. But, maybe it wouldn't be quite so special to play games at holiday gatherings if I did it all the time. Who knows!

Where is the most exciting place you have ever been? What made it interesting?

The most exciting place I've been to is Grand Cayman, in the British West Indies. It's gotta be exciting if you need a passport, right??

It was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, in a lot of ways. 2003 would have been the year of my parents 50th wedding anniversary. Rather than having the usual party with friends and relatives, my sisters and I decided to take them on a trip.

When my father was working, it was their intention to spend their “golden years” traveling. They had already been to many places, near and far, and were looking forward to seeing new ones as well as revisiting favorites. Unfortunately, even before he retired, my mom's health began to deteriorate. It wasn't very long before traveling was too difficult. She was ill more often than not, and had difficulty get around physically.

So, when this milestone anniversary came near, we thought we'd take them on one last trip (although no one actually said that out loud). We would all go, so my sisters and I could help take care of Mom, and Dad could relax and enjoy himself, too.

After searching and searching we found the perfect place. It was beautiful, as you would expect! Right on the ocean, it had 4 bedrooms, a pool, deck area, a gazebo at the shoreline, and a boardwalk from the house to the gazebo (by this time, Mom pretty much only got around in a wheelchair). It was obscenely expensive, as you would also expect, but we knew it would be worth it.

Mom passed away the August before the trip. Of course, she wouldn't have wanted us to cancel the trip, so we went, and had a great time. That hardly does the trip justice, but I'm trying to not write a novel, here!

What made Grand Cayman interesting, I think, was that it was just so different from anything I am used to. By the end of May, Minnesota is usually very nice weather-wise. Everything is green and growing again, and the temps are getting warmer and warmer. Spring breezes can still be appreciated after the winter, but summer humidity and bugs haven't come yet.

Grand Cayman was a pleasant-summer warm. Not too hot, but warm enough for swimming and shorts, and laying in a hammock in the shade. The breeze off the ocean was constant. We were there for just about a week, and toward the end I was finally feeling like I was getting used to it.

There was white sand everywhere. Palm trees. Strange birds, little critters scurrying around, fish in colors I didn't think Mother Nature could create. Even the produce at the little grocery stores looked weird to me. We were able to have a private “tour” of the place known as Sting Ray City, where the rays flock to be fed by tourists (yes, they really are like giant portobello mushrooms), and snorkeling excursions. We ate fresh, fully ripened mangoes for breakfast every day and listened to Margaritaville and other steel drum music by The Barefoot Man. We visited a farm and museum dedicated to sea turtles.

I wish Mom could have gone with, but she was a very common topic of conversation. We cried and laughed and reminisced, and we knew she was with us in spirit.

What color was your home, bedroom, living room as a child?

"The blue house, on the right, after the stop sign." That's what I'd say when friends' parents would drive me home. For a while, it was "the SECOND blue house" when one of the neighbors repainted, but I think I was driving myself around for the most part shortly after that. Or, maybe everyone knew by then which house was mine.

There were 3 bedrooms on the main level of the house. One was obviously always my parents' room. The other two rooms rotated. (The same thing happened throughout my current family's lives in this house, so maybe that's common?) One room, I'm told was where my grandfather stayed when he lived with my family. After he passed, and I was born, it became my nursery. My two sisters shared the 2nd bedroom. My eldest sister eventually wanted more privacy, so she moved into bedroom #1 on her own. (Why she had my dad remove the door so she could hang strings of beads in the doorway if she wanted privacy, I don't understand...)That put me and sister #2 in bedroom #2. Things aren't completely clear in my head, but it seems to me that the room was either pink or a lighter shade of lavender.

When I was in Junior High (circa late 1970's) we needed more space. The choices were to move into a bigger house, or remodel the basement, creating a family room, and another bedroom and bathroom. (Four females is a lot to put one bathroom through!) They decided to remodel. Sister #1 got first choice of bedrooms. She chose the new one in the basement. Sister #2 got the next choice, she chose the room Sister #1 vacated. That left me in only room I remembered, and really don't recall having a problem with that. I was going to be ALONE!!! That was the important thing. Privacy, personal space... After years of sharing a room, it sounded like heaven. I didn't care where I was!

Little did I know that years later, when Sister #2 and I were much older, we'd revert back to sharing a room (sometimes even a bed!) if mom and dad were gone for the night and we'd hear noises and creaks in the dark house. But, I digress....

After a short period of time, I started to contemplate repainting my room. My parents were hesitant of my choice of green, but they eventually agreed. They even had green carpet put in, which I'm sure wasn't their first choice. I never regretted the green, and I hope they were ok with it overall. I know that the freedoms they gave me allowed me to be more accepting of my daughter's choice of bright white walls with large black circles painted on them...and a black ceiling. Hmm. I even helped paint.

As for the rest of my childhood home, I really don't remember specific colors on the walls. Just the feelings of being in a particular room.

The family room: Watching TV with my family, playing bumper pool during slumber parties with my friends, playing cards and games at the big round game table we all helped my mom refinish, folding laundry while watching the Vikings on Sunday afternoon.

The living room: The more formal room of the house, that's where we hung out with "COMPANY" or aunts and uncles on holidays.

The kitchen: Wow. So many memories. Watching an old B&W TV while my mom made dinner, standing on a chair at the sink washing dishes, rolling Russian Tea Cake cookies in powdered sugar with my grandma, cleaning strawberries we'd just brought home from the U-Pick farm (we didn't eat too many while cleaning them because we'd eaten so many already while picking them!), the smells of certain foods coming from the stove or oven, sitting on the floor--covered with newspaper--carving pumpkins, being scolded for one thing or another, dyeing Easter eggs, getting help with homework, making homemade lollipops with my sister (#2) they day we skipped school together (she made me, I swear)... I could go on forever.

In fact, my oldest memory takes place in that kitchen. Sitting at the table with my mom dunking toast in her coffee. In my mind I see that "ritual" as something special she and I did after my sisters went to school, maybe so I wouldn't feel like I was missing out because I wasn't big enough to go to school yet. I don't know if that's really the reason we spent that little bit of alone time together, but that's the story I'm going with!