Oodles and oodles

Welcome, October, and a list

Our meadow is spectacular this time of year - filled with wild asters and berries and butterflies. There are so many bees right now that if you're quiet, you can hear a steady humming in the background.

Lots of you have mentioned lately how fall is your favorite time of year. It's wonderful, no doubt about it. But I don't think I have a favorite season. If I picked fall as my favorite season, I'd feel like I was leaving out spring, and that week in late May when a different flower is bursting into bloom every day, or winter, and those days after a heavy snow when the sun comes out and the sky is deep blue and everything sparkles. Or summer. Every single day of summer, rain or shine, thunder or moonlight.

 

But if I'm ranking the months just by beauty, I think October's got to be the winner. We get soggy springs and slushy winters and parched summers now and again, but year in and year out, October is gorgeous. The leaves. The apples. The transition from the last vegetables from the garden to the first snowflake.

 

This is the view across the road from my house, where the geese take a rest and look longingly at the corn that will be harvested before too long. After it occurred to me that October is the prettiest month, I started thinking about how I'd rank all of the months by beauty. Here's what I came up with:

1. October
2. June
3. May
4. September
5. July
6. August
7. December
8. February
9. January
10. November
11. April
12. March

In any given year in Central New York, the placement of the bottom six months can vary pretty wildly. April needs to be split in two, because it's usually half horrible, half wonderful. And I feel bad about November, because I love it so, but it is not a pretty month. March, however, will always be at the bottom of my list. March is the month I wish I had a relative with a nice place somewhere in the South.

What would your list look like?

Sorting through vintage Christmas ornaments

(read about sorting through vintage Christmas ornaments in 2009 on this post)

I'm always inspired by Beth's posts on sorting through her auction finds. When a big box of Christmas ornaments came my way the other day, I thought I'd invite you to sort along with me. The first job is to sort the good ornaments from the junk. The junk is usually pretty obvious, but not always.

This one ended up in the junk pile - it's vintage, but a cheaper, later brand. It doesn't look too bad on its own, but next to a lovely old Shiny Brite, the difference is much more apparent.

I'm keeping this one, but I've got to be careful that it goes on my tree and doesn't get sold. It looks OK with the hanger on it, but it's got a problem ...

a broken pike. The pike is that skinny neck where the hanger goes. Sometimes there's enough damage to the pike that the hanger doesn't fit quite right. It usually makes the ornament a lot more vulnerable to damage. But this one's pretty enough otherwise to use as long as it holds up.

Another "oops" - a break in the indent. The photo makes it easy to see. In reality, it's not always so obvious. If you're buying indents, make sure to check.

Now that all the stuff that will either get thrown out or sent to the thrift store is gone, it's time to look at what's left.

A pile of Shiny Brites. Shiny Brites are easy to identify. The colors and designs are classic, and they almost always have the ribbed, scalloped cap that's marked Shiny Brite.

I do have a few older Shiny Brites that don't have the ribbed cap but are stamped Shiny Brite, but 9 times out of 10, this is the cap to look for.

A pile of ornaments made in Poland. The caps on these also are stamped Poland, which makes them easy to identify, but they have such a distinctive style that once you see them a few times, you'll recognize them immediately. Much as I love every vintage ornament, I probably have a bit of a preference for the Polands. The colors are wonderful, and there are great handpainted details. Some day, I'll get out the gorgeous handpainted Santas and angels and flowers to show you.

 

Some round indents from Poland.

Some teardrop-shaped ornaments from Poland.

See how pretty even the backs are? The horizontal panels, the "fish scales" and the quadrant design on the left are really classic treatments on the Poland ornaments.

Often there's a more detailed design, like a bough of leaves or a dragonfly.

This box also had some individual examples of different ornament styles - a fancy beaded glass ornament probably made in Czechoslovakia (it's in a tiny glass bowl to hold it for the photo), a milk glass Santa and a glass pipe figural ornament. The ornaments that really made me want this box, though, are these ones...

Unsilvered ornaments from the World War II era. In addition to being so lovely and ethereal - I think they look like bubbles about to float away - they come with a little history lesson. Most vintage glass ornaments are "silvered," with their interiors coated with a silver solution to make the ornaments shiny and reflective. During World War II, though, metal was in short supply and too precious to be used for Christmas ornaments - hence, the "unsilvered" ornaments.

Some customers complained that the unsilvered ornaments weren't sparkly enough (somehow, whining about un-sparkly Christmas ornaments doesn't fit with my image of that plucky World War II generation, but there you are) so manufacturers started tucking a sprig of tinsel inside them. Occasionally you'll come across an unsilvered ornament with a cardboard or paper cap. At some point during the war, there wasn't enough metal even for a tiny cap.

Some tiny, clear Shiny Brite bells with colored stripes and sparkly mica.

And larger, unsilvered Shiny Brites. I think I have to put these on eBay because if memory serves me correctly, these are kind of coveted by collectors. I've got to support my habit somehow. As thrifting/sale seasons go, this has been an absolutely spectacular year for finding ornaments. There are some years - last year, for example - where ornaments seem few and far between. I'm going to need to go through the whole season's worth pretty soon to figure out what I'm keeping and what I'm selling, and that's going to be fun. A little overwhelming, but fun.

Feedsacks galore

It was probably a little optimistic of me to think that in a few days' time I would be able to soak, wash, dry, iron and photograph all of my recently acquired feedsacks. Hey, what are a few spots and wrinkles among friends? Feedsack Friday is here, and I'm ready to unfold some of these beauties, imperfections and all.

 

Some blog buddies also are planning to show you some feedsacks today, so make sure you visit them, too. (I can't wait!)

http://www.georgiapeachez.typepad.com/

http://osagebluffquilter.blogspot.com/

http://turkeyfarmtreasures.blogspot.com/

http://myvintagesoul.typepad.com/

http://hollyhocks.typepad.com/

http://mybabyeatssocks.blogspot.com/

http://mamanjackjack.blogspot.com/

Another blog friend e-mailed to confess that my basket full of feedsacks looked just like fabric to her, and she wondered how to tell the difference. Until I got these, I wondered the same thing. Sarah was the one who clued me in to looking for the stitching marks. This feedsack shows the marks really well - this is where the sack was sewn together, until an industrious housewife emptied it of its contents, removed the thread and saved the fabric.

 

I don't know if this is typical of all feedsacks, but a lot of the ones I got last week also have a small number near the seamline. On to some other prints:



This red and white one resembles a tablecloth.



I love how it looks with my folk-dancing friends.

And the bright stripes.



An odd little print with ships and anchors and crowns and whales and lords and ladies.



A circus print. I'm loving the elephant, and the acrobats. There are also some animals bursting through hoops - I think that's a lion up on top.



A wrinkled but nonetheless charming Dutch print.



A border print with a rail fence and hunters and hounds.



Here's a hunt scene closeup.



I did get a few feedsacks washed and out on the line. (Annoyingly, my family seems to feel that clean towels should take precedence over laundering my beloved vintage textiles.) I'm soaking some of the ones in better shape in cool water and borax, per Sarah's advice, and that, along with the sunshine, is brightening them right up. Some of the other ones may need boiled in borax, which has a strangely Dickensian appeal to it.

Here's a closeup of one of the ones hanging on the line, and it may be my favorite.

Thanks for visiting on Feedsack Friday!

Spot removal

I bought a load of pillowcase border fabrics a few years ago at a sale so spectacular it will never be matched. Even now, when the subject of Steffi's sale comes up among some of us who were there, we fall silent for a moment, raise our eyes heavenward and murmur our thanks to Steffi. None of us knew her -- she apparently was a 100-and-some years old when she died after a lifetime of shopping -- but we remain grateful for her madcap spending, her extraordinary taste and the fact that her single heir did not want anything but the proceeds from the sale. I finally got some of the fabric out last week with the intent of putting it on Etsy. I haven't done that yet. But I did get the fabric washed and ironed, and I was annoyed when I found a little dark spot on this piece. I obsess over spots like that.

 

It didn't look like the kind of spot that was ever going to come out, so I decided to disguise it. That's where the thread comes in. A few tight little stitches over the spot and voila! Instead of a dark spot, it looks like a thick thread in the weave. I'm not completely convinced that's a huge improvement over the spot, but it somehow made me feel better. And then I made it into a pillowcase, which took about a minute and a half.

And then I made up the bed for my sister-in-law, who's staying with us for a few days. It's a good thing we've had a lot of company this summer, because without deadline pressure, I don't think I'd ever get anything done.

Feedsack Friday

There's nothing better than an instant collection. Until a week ago Friday, when I went to that lovely farm auction, I had never owned a feedsack. Now I've got a bunch of them. (Actually, I have a peck of feedsacks, because that's the size of this basket.)

 
I'm going to be working on them this week. A lot of them have some stains that I hope will soak out. Here's what I was thinking: I'm hoping by Friday I'll have them all freshened up, and I can post better pictures of them. In the meantime, would any of you like to pull out some feedsacks from your collection and post about them on Friday? A Feedsack Friday? I know very little about feedsacks, so I'd love to see more and learn as much as I can about them. If you'd like to take part, just leave a comment, and I'll add a link to my Friday post. Sarah thought this was such a great idea she posted pictures of her feedsacks last Friday. I bounced the idea off of her but wasn't as specific as I might have been about which Friday. So: Friday, Sept. 26. But go look at hers in the meantime.

This isn't the box the feedsacks came in, but it's perfect for them. I'm very fond of these baskets, which come from the farmer's market. Some measurement facts: 8 quarts = 1 peck. 4 pecks = one bushel. 18 feedsacks = 1 peck. If we were in 4th grade, we'd now have to figure out how many feedsacks are in a bushel.

added Tuesday morning: Want to show something made out of feedsacks, like a quilt? Perfect! The more, the merrier.

Worth it, maybe

Here's a pretty posy from my new tablecloth. I got it at the estate sale from hell that I went to with Linda last week. She was far too generous in her assessment of the people running the sale. They were nuts. Bonkers. I didn't mind the sign-up rules and waiting my turn part. It comes with the territory. But the gatekeeper took his job a little too seriously. For example, I was #45. #41 did not show up when his name was called. (It was entirely possible he died of old age, because these people were moving s-l-o-w-l-y.) But rather than move on to #42 - or, more to the point, ME - the gatekeeper locked the door, left his post and went inside to look for #41, thinking that maybe #41 had snuck in somehow. Not only were these people obsessive-compulsive, they were deeply paranoid.

There was a full-page, typewritten list of rules. Rules that were a little insulting ("Running is not allowed, nor is any pushing or shoving"), rules that are far too detailed and boring to detail (three paragraphs on the proper use of the SOLD sticker, I'm not kidding) and stuff that was just odd ("I do not tell anyone where anything is before the sale, however, once you are inside, you may ask where anything is and you will be directed.")

As you might guess, getting through the checkout itself was a bit of a trial. The woman running the sale seemed to have second thoughts about the price of everything. ("Did you really mean to mark this a quarter? I think it's worth more than a quarter." This, of course, was followed by murmuring and discussion among the staff. These people had more staff than the Metropolitan Museum of Art.) There were also arcane - and, shockingly, unwritten! - rules governing the checkout. I spent less than $15 on four items, and came out with three separate receipts. Why? I can't explain that. I just did. I'm glad I had cash, because if I'd wanted to write a check, I'd probably still be standing there, waiting for the results of the FBI background check to come in.

This was also the first estate sale I've ever attended where people had to pay ($3) if they wanted to be on a mailing list. It would almost be worth that to get on the list and know which sales to avoid.

OK, so here's the tablecloth in all its glory. It's only  mine for today, because it's in mint condition and it's going on eBay. One meal with my crew, and it would be ruined. I've spent all day taking pictures and doing eBay listings (including one for the weird old quilt batting), and let me tell you - it's been quite a boring day.

Accidental pumpkins

Are you the kind of person who likes to fly by the seat of her pants? I'm not. I like my ducks, and my pumpkins, in a row. I need a calendar, lists and advance notice. I don't like open-ended commitments, changes of plans and people who don't RSVP.

I like straight lines, picket fences, town squares and symmetry. I like second opinions, contingency plans and emergency funds. I like organized closets and weed-free gardens. When I don't have these things, I fret.

This makes me less fun than I might be. My husband had planned to surprise me with a birthday trip to New York City last year but decided to tell me the week before. He sensed that springing a fabulous weekend on me at the last minute might not be the best approach. He was right.

On the other hand, I've never been stranded at an airport, shown up on the wrong night at someone's house for dinner or needed to have money wired to me. And here's my point: I like the way I am. It works for me. Which is why these pumpkins you're looking at are nothing short of miraculous.

I didn't plant them. I put pumpkins in the compost pile last year, and one day this summer, I noticed some healthy looking vines. By the next day, the vines were twice as big. Normally, I'd have pulled them out. They were going to take over the compost pile, and eventually that whole corner of the garden. But I let them go. And now I've got, I don't know, maybe 20 of those sweet Jack-be-Little pumpkins, and two that are bigger than basketballs.

I'm very happy with this year's pumpkins. They're not going to change the way I garden, or the way I live. But every once in a while, letting something go just to see what happens ends up being a good idea. You never know when you might end up with accidental pumpkins.

Favorite fabric, etc.

Here's my new piece of old fabric that I adore. It even has a name: the edge is marked Eisenhart Fabrics "Country Fair." It's screen printed, and in addition to these wonderful shades of pink and blue and teal and terra-cotta, there's metallic gold.

There are lots of little country scenes and animals.

Every time I thought I'd found all of the scenes, I 'd see a new one.

This is a good time to catch up on some issues (my, doesn't that sound serious?) that do not lend themselves to photographs. One: Is there any use for old, old, old quilt batting? By "any use," I mean if I list it on eBay or Etsy, will someone maybe want it, or will people laugh at me and make hurtful remarks?  I bought a quilt many years ago for almost nothing because the top was tattered, but the backing was wonderful old homespun in great shape. I took it apart, sold the homespun, threw away the threadbare pieces and thought, hmmm, what should I do with the batting? It's cotton, with little pieces of seed and hull woven in. In my newfound need to be tidy and organized, I need to do something with it. (It's taking up quite a bit of space.) It seems like someone inclined to make old-fashioned cotton-batting ornaments might want it. Or not. Your thoughts, please. I'm not adverse to throwing useless things away.

Next: sometimes nice people ask me a question in the comments, and I really try to write back, but occasionally the e-mail bounces back, and I feel bad, that someone thinks I've ignored them. This happened recently when Sarah W. asked what area of the country I was from, because it looked like a pretty place to visit. I live in Skaneateles, New York, in the Finger Lakes region. It's a wonderful place, especially in the fall. Did you know that New York has the second-highest apple production in the country? Many of those apple orchards are in my neck of the woods. There are lots of wineries, too, and lovely fall colors, and gorgeous lakes. On the subject of apple production: Why does almost all of the apple juice on supermarket shelves come from China? What is wrong when it is more cost-effective to ship that stuff halfway around the world? Local cider - that's what I'm drinking. One of the local orchards makes a wonderful hard cider, too.

Good grief. I've been quite long winded. Here's a shorter question: Does anybody have any clever ideas for using vintage seam binding? Especially for using vast quantities of it at one time? You can't begin to imagine how many packages I have of it. I get rid of the half-packages and the polyester stuff, but those unopened packages of 100 percent cotton in pretty vintage colors are crying out to be used. Somehow.

OK, I think I'm done. Have a happy Monday.

Auction goodies, part 1

OK, time to look at some of the stuff I hauled home from the auction Friday. This is the second-best thing I bought, the scottie dog box that I mentioned in passing.

It's going in my bedroom. I think it's going to inspire a room re-do. You know how that is? You buy one thing you love, and suddenly you want a room worthy of it.

Want to guess what's in the cigar box? It's not cigars. Or buttons. I'm all done with buttons. Until the next time I find some. OK, give up?

It's a box full of pixies! I took one of the more tattered ones apart to see how they were made. I have great plans for posting a pattern and directions. Don't hold me to any particular deadline on that.

The auction was at the farm of a 98-year-old woman.  She lived in a lovely old clapboard house on a dirt road, surrounded by corn and soybean fields. It was a joy just to be there. I do love an auction where you wish you could meet the homeowner, because you know you'd be friends. This woman loved every craft. Knitting. Sewing. Baking wedding cakes.

She accumulated all kinds of fun party goods, like these little favor baskets.

Rolls and rolls of Dennison crepe paper and packages of rickrack - here's a sample. The shiny thing up there in the left is a sheet of Dresden stickers. I have to confess: I don't really get Dresdens. I mean, I know how they're used, and I like seeing how other people use them. They just don't speak to me somehow. I do, however, have quite a thing for old pipe cleaners.

Here's the object I so generously gave my friend Linda today. In an attempt to maintain my E-for-Everyone rating, I draped the doll with a little crocheted insert for the photo. These dolls just creep me out. I'm sorry. I know many people like them. Linda's not one of them, which made giving it to her all the more fun. (I gave her a pixie and a basket and some buttons, too, so don't judge me too harshly.)

One last photo - a big old ledger, and some fun sewing books. So if the scottie dog box was the second-best thing I bought, what was the best thing? Fabric, including maybe 20 feedsacks. Some of them are in great shape, and others will need some TLC, but they need a post all of their own. I did take some pictures of one of the pieces of fabric, and it gets its own post, too, because it's already one of my favorite pieces ever.

Button mania

So right after I picked up my Santa pitcher and mugs at the garage sale yesterday, I spied four canning jars filled with buttons. Cheap. Like less than a stop at Starbucks cheap. And even though I had just gone through the entire collection last weekend - or maybe because I had gone through the entire collection last weekend and was feeling kind of organized - I grabbed 'em.

If you've ever sorted buttons (and if you're reading my blog, I'm guessing the chances are really good that you have) you know that for every one good button, there are 10 duds (not to mention a safety pin, a couple of snaps, an unidentifiable piece of hardware and a sharp needle that you're not going to see until it pricks you and reminds you that you really should get a tetanus booster.) Not so with this lot. It was more 50-50 - for every ho-hum button, there was a beauty.

Green buttons.



Yellow buttons. (Sorry for the fluorescent nature of this photo - we're into the no-natural-light-available season here.) I don't know why, but yellow buttons don't seem as common as other colors. I think it's just generally a less popular color, but these are awfully cheerful.



Lovely blue buttons, including lots of tiny flowers.



Pink. There are never enough pink buttons. (These are actually a pretty, true pink, not the kind of salmony-pink color that I'm seeing.)



Lots of pretty white buttons, including these big, chunky flowers.



How great are these? Wagon wheels? I'm selling these babies. They are destined for a greater project than I could accomplish.



And then I went to the auction, and in the course of buying a ceramic box with a scottie-dog handle (which may sound pretty cute, and, oh, it is) I got these, too. What a day. I pledged that I wouldn't go to bed last night until I put everything away, and I was true to my word. Which means I get to go to an estate sale right now with my buddy Linda. Lots more to show you later. In particular, something I'm taking as a gift to her, so if you hear a scream (of horror, not delight) emanating from the Northeast, you'll know she reacted as I'd hoped.