Oodles and oodles

10 years and 2 weeks later, a cake

 
Ten years ago, we planted blackberry bushes. Naively, we believed it was only a matter of time until we were picking quarts of berries and making them into jam and pies and freezing them for the long, cold winter. By "matter of time," we were thinking a couple of years.

A couple of years passed, and then a couple more. It was probably a good five years before a single berry appeared on those bushes. By "single berry," I mean just that. Exactly one.

In subsequent years, our crop grew exponentially. By "exponentially," I mean that the next year we would have three times as many berries (for a total of three), and the following year three times that (for a total of nine). However, these berries would ripen one at a time, so it wasn't like we were wondering what we were going to do with, say, all nine berries at once. They would ripen days apart, one at a time. We're never ones to overlook nature's smallest gifts, but it's really hard to get excited about nine blackberries over the course of a summer.

This year's crop looked promising (possibly as many as 27 berries over the course of a month) but we knew better than to get our hopes up. And then, miraculously, more berries appeared. And two weeks ago, while my sister-in-law was visiting, we were strolling about the garden and realized that we had possibly a cupful of blackberries all ripe at the same time.

We were ecstatic. I knew exactly what I would do: I would make this cake. We picked the berries Saturday afternoon and planned to bake the cake Sunday.

Except that when I came downstairs Sunday morning, I discovered that all of the berries were gone. One of my son's college friends also was visiting, and apparently when he remarked upon the bowl of glorious blackberries on the counter, my son, being the good host, offered them as a snack.

And we, of course, said nothing. (Who really wants to go through life being known as the kind of people who scream at two 19-year-olds for eating fresh berries?)

 
But two weeks have passed, and amazingly, there are even more blackberries. And so this Sunday, I finally got to make the cake. This is my favorite summer cake, and maybe my favorite cake, period. It's light and not overly sweet, but with a sugary top that crackles just a little when you slice into it. Because there's buttermilk in it, and fresh berries, it seems healthy. And the berries (up until now, we've used raspberries) kind of melt and slump and take on the texture of jam but without the sweetness. It also takes about five minutes to mix up the cake if you remember to put out a stick of butter to soften first.

 
It tastes great no matter how you serve it or what you serve it on, but with a little whipped creme on top and a Jade-ite plate underneath, you start to wonder what you did to deserve such goodness.

Especially if you have a Jade-ite cream pitcher and sugar bowl sitting nearby. You might remember a couple of weeks ago that I mentioned buying a box lot of Jade-ite that included a lid without a sugar bowl. (It wasn't a hint - I really was relishing the thought of having a piece to look for.)

I don't think a day had passed when Pam e-mailed me to say that she had an extra (!) sugar bowl without a lid and would be happy to send it to me. Which she did, just as soon as she somewhat recovered from a bike accident that required an ambulance ride (double !).

And so here I am, with my Jade-ite and my crop of blackberries, and I'm thinking that life is pretty good indeed. And if you'll excuse me, now that the photo shoot is over, there is a piece of cake calling my name. 

 

 

 

 

 

Some weekend finds

 
With the exception of this nursery set, the theme of this weekend's finds might be "You better hose that off before you go bringing it into the house." In fact, because I could not get everything hosed off, some of it is still concealed in my car. Including a $10 Christmas tree. A $10 Christmas tree could cover a lot of scenarios, so I'll just let you ruminate on that while I show you a couple of other finds.

 
Here's the rest of the nursery set, still with its original tag.

 
Vintage baby dish. If you haven't seen these before, here's how they work: They're heavy, but hollow, and the idea was to fill up the dish with hot water and then replace the cork up at the top there to keep Baby's food warm. It seems to me this technique would keep the food at just the right temperature to create a bacterial stew, and perhaps this is why we don't see them any more. Anyway, while I would not recommend using this plate, it sure would look sweet sitting on a nursery shelf.

 
Probably one of my better finds (and the one most in need of cleaning) was this glass-front medicine chest. I'm desperate to keep it (but I'm not). I keep thinking how great it would look filled with little Christmas things. Or little kitchen things. Or little things of any sort. I've been picking up blue canning jars here and there this summer. There's nothing prettier than sun shining through that blue glass (and nothing more horrible looking than abandoned canning jars concealed under several decades of dust and grime, as these once were.)

 
And finally, a little celluloid Santa.

It was a busy, busy weekend here: We took the boy off to college Saturday and stopped at the antique mall on the way home to say hello to the case I'm renting, which was ALMOST EMPTY. Hooray! This is the first time in my brief case-renting career that I felt as if it might be worth my while. I'll try to come up with some observations on all of that, as I know several of you are giving it a whirl as well. We also stopped at a really fun sale where the guy must have spent the last two days listening to people asking him, "So you must really like that 'American Pickers' show, right?" The guy doesn't have cable and thus has never seen the show, but he had a yard and barn filled with picker-like objects, including a couple of signs that are still in my trunk.

Sunday brought two marathons: one in the kitchen, and one of 'American Pickers,' which was good background entertainment while I tried to deal with a happy abundance of tomatoes, basil, eggplant and cucumbers. It ended with a pretty fabulous three-course vegetarian dinner last night, topped off with that cake I've been waiting 10 years and two weeks to make, and it was worth the wait. Recipe and photo to come. 

 

 

A busy little place

 
Well, hello there! It's been a while, hasn't it? I had no intention of taking a blog break. But there was one event that put me behind a couple of days, and then another, and another, and pretty soon the Oodles household was completely out of control. Nothing bad, just busy. Too busy. And after that, I needed a few days to regroup. And today I went to some sales. All's right with the world. More or less. Young Mr. Oodles returns to college tomorrow. Everybody told me that they were thrilled to see their kid leave for their sophomore year. I'm not.

I've been offering him bribes to stay. I even offered a car and no curfew. He said, and I quote, "Mother, you know that would just lead to me making poor choices." I'm missing him already.

 
I know I can't fill that empty space in my heart with things, but I'm certainly going to give it a try. All of today's pictures are courtesy of a yard sale that sounded too good to pass up: something along the lines of "I cleaned out my mother's attic and I'm not putting anything back in it." A couple of antique dealers already were checking out with enormous piles of stuff when I got there, so I averted my eyes. I hate seeing what I missed.

 
And if I'm feeling busy, I should try trading places with this guy, who has a whole farm to tend.

 
Not even running water. But there is a working well. (The little crank on the left lifts and lowers the bucket on a chain. Too much fun for the easily amused.)

 
There are lots of ducks to feed.

 
Not to mention the chicken.

 
And the rooster.

 
And all of these folks to worry about, too.

 
I need to do a little research on these pieces, because I don't know anything about them. They're marked "Germany," and they're old. A young man at the yard sale said it was an old nativity scene, but there aren't any nativity figures. I'm thinking Putz village figures and animals - how about you?

 
And it's little: the whole set fits neatly on a deck rail.

Much as I would like to spend the rest of the day playing with it, I must go. I have more stuff in the car. I have a cake to bake. I'm planning to post the recipe and title the post "The Cake that Took Ten Years and Two Weeks to Make." I also need to post a picture that illustrates a shining example of blog-world generosity.

Anyway, to all of you who e-mailed and wondered where the heck I was, thanks. (The link to the Etsy shop will be back soon, for those of you who asked about that.) It's nice to be back.

 




 
 

More box-lot linens

 
I'm having one of those days when nothing is going according to plan. Thus, after some therapeutic refrigerator cleaning and some therapeutic weeding, I turned to therapeutic ironing. This is an apron that came in one of those box lots of linens I got last week.

 
And if your name happens to be Loretta Weishuff, I will give you this apron. You're going to have to provide some formal identification, however.

 
Weird photo, but kind of an interesting object: a damask napkin from an old steamship line.

 
Fancy old linens, most of them with monograms. (I didn't iron all of these today, by the way. It's been a moderately frustrating day, not a day that required an ironing marathon.)

 
Apparently with the belief that I hadn't acquired enough linens, I bought this apron at the thrift store yesterday. The apron is OK.

 
What I really loved was the cutesy fabric.

 
One more box-lot find (except for the Really Great Box Lot Find - maybe tomorrow) - a crib-size chenille bedspread. It's got a few issues, but it's sweet. And it didn't need to be ironed. Chenille is like that - comforting and agreeable, without asking much in return. If only more things were like chenille.
 
 
 

 
 

 
 

Embroidery: a brief illustrated history

 
I acquired some vintage embroidery transfers recently. I usually find transfers half a dozen at a time, or, on rare occasions, maybe a partial shoebox full. And usually they are from the 1950s, give or take a decade, when days-of-the-week transfers like this kitty ironing were all the style.
 
This find was unusual, though, in two ways. First of all, there were hundreds of transfers. Too many to fit in a shoebox. Too many to fit in a suitcase, for that matter. And there were ones from every era, in all kinds of styles. Maybe I bought somebody's collection? It's hard to imagine that one person accumulated so many different ones.
 
This is a good place to mention a couple of things: One, although I tried to show restraint, there are a ton of pictures in this post. If you aren't especially interested in embroidery, don't feel bad about scrolling down real fast or leaving. It's OK. Also, I want to mention the web site The Sewing Palette and its excellent section on embroidery transfers, which proved to be a very valuable reference.
 
When I first started sorting through these, I was perplexed by the volume of what looked like plain sheets of paper. Turns out they were perforated embroidery patterns, a forerunner of the iron-on transfer.
 
To use them, you would need to rub a powder through the perforations to transfer the design.
 Anyway, it's no wonder that hot-iron transfers caught on, because those perforated patterns seem like a lot of work. These "World Famous" patterns have all kinds of transfers for clothing like chemises and cuffs and collars and baby shoes. I'm not a fashion historian - any guesses as to the clothing style there? 1920s? 1930s?
 
There were several books like this, which date back to the 1920s. If you look carefully at the cover, you'll see there's no end to the embroidered objects one can make, including lampshades, book covers, bookends and picture frames.

And, with the use of this sailboat transfer, which consists of tiny raised dots rather than the solid line that came later, one can also make children's clothes.
 
Cute children's clothes.
 
Very cute children's clothes.
 
There also was quite a large collection of transfers from France.
 
A fancy embroidered collar for the fashionable bebe.
 
Each of the French transfer sheets had transfers for common names, such as Clementine and Marthe.
 
I'm planning to sell most of these transfers on eBay come fall. As I was sorting them, I was watching a two-part Oprah series on a woman with a hoarding problem. Perhaps you've seen it, or other programs like it. They scare the dickens out of me. So I chose just a few sheets to keep, like this 1930s style image. I adore this style. Here are some others:

 
 

 
In addition to the '30s style images, I also liked a sheet of cross-stitched nursery figures that would make great baby quilt squares.


 
OK, that's all.  See, I really did show a little restraint. Emphasis on "little." 
   
  
  
  
 
 


 

 

 
 
  

  

Washing and ironing

 
It's been a while since I've posted a clothesline action shot, and you know why? I gave up buying box lots of linens. Too much work. Not enough return. Too many scrappy, tattered, don't-want-it-but-feel-bad-throwing-it-away items. As with most things I give up, though, I can be convinced to take them up again when the price is right. And so when the price had dropped to $5 a box at last week's auction, I cheerfully offered to take three, and then I wondered what on earth I was thinking. Well, one of the things I was thinking is that I do love a good tablecloth. Or two or three.
 
These two are pretty but imperfect - the yellow checked one has some weird damage on the edge, almost like a poorly darned hole, and the pink flowered one has some fading right in the middle. Anyway, they're fine for me to use around here.
 
But this one - oh, this one. It is perfect.
 
Gratuitous closeup of tablecloth with red clothespin.
 
Anyway, even though those three box lots of linens resulted in about three days of soaking and washing and line-drying and ironing, it feels worth the bother when everything is all starched and folded and pretty. I'll have some other box lot finds to show you later in the week. 
 
Gratuitous closeup of folded linens. If you'd spent as much time working on these as I did, you'd want to immortalize them, too. And if you have some linens that aren't quite so perfect, be sure to read Beth's post - wonderful stuff!
 
 
 

 
 
 

Make your own auction

 
It was bound to happen sooner or later. After a string of enjoyable auctions, I hit a real dud Saturday. Rather than waste a few hours there on the one or two things that might have been worth a bid, I came home the long way and hit a few places that I've been meaning to visit. I didn't do a lot of shopping, but I probably came home with more than I would have if I'd stayed at the auction.
 
This would be the equivalent of my kitchen box lot, with a strawberry pitcher and cookie cutters.
 
The equivalent of a Christmas box lot, with ornament picks, a glass bead garland, little ornaments and a pair of Holt Howard Santa candle holders.
 
The ephemera box lot: a stack of old fruit-crate labels.
 
Representing linens: a sweet little cross-stitch sampler.
 
And my favorite find of all: heart-shaped wall sconces. What I love the most about them is that they're made by Lustro-Ware - the company that made all those great old hard-plastic canisters and bread boxes and kitchen what-nots.
 
I can't find a reference anywhere to Lustro-Ware sconces, so apparently they're Extremely Rare Lustro-Ware sconces.
 
See, they're even marked Lustro-Ware. It's not just me hoping they're Lustro-Ware. It's official.
 
Anyway, bad auction, but OK shopping, and I probably spent less time and money to boot. And I still have lots of stuff from last week that I'm putting away. I don't know if any of you like old tablecloths or quilts, but if you do, stick around.
 
 
 
 

 
 

Friday finds

 
In the interests of absolute accuracy, I did not find these Gay Fad canisters or my newest Swanky Swig today. I'm just showing you them today. I ran out of clever titles. I don't know a lot about Gay Fad, which is that brush-strokey, hand-painted kitchenware and barware, but I know it when I see it. I bet you do, too - there are lots of different floral and fruit patterns, but they all have a distinctive, hand-painted look.
 
It's hard to tell what's special about this Swanky Swig from this photo, but you'll be able to see what it is in a second. First, though, I'll tell you something I learned this week that I've always wondered about: whether it's correct or not to call all decorated glasses Swanky Swigs. I was thumbing through a book at an antique store (feeling slightly guilty, but I already own an earlier edition of it) and boy, let me tell you, it is NOT okay to call every decorated glass a Swanky Swig, according to the author, who's pretty much the expert on this subject. If you ever felt like you got an earful just reading a paragraph, I did. Swanky Swigs refer only to the glasses that once held Kraft cheese products. They come only in specific patterns, and in my experience, at least, they tend to have a very subtle (very, very subtle) ridged pattern inside the glass. Apparently calling every decorated glass a Swanky Swig is like calling every cotton print feedsack or every plastic button Bakelite.

Anyway, you do what you want. I'm just passing along the information because it seemed useful. I have no intention of becoming the Swanky Swig police.

 
So here's what's special about the new swig: It's big! Most swigs are 3 1/2 inches tall, but the bigger swigs are 4 1/2 inches tall and much harder to find. (I'm reading in my reference book right now that they seem to have been distributed only in Canada. And me only a few hours from the border!) Anyway, although my book is pretty old, the values seem in line with what I usually see. If you'd expect to pay $3 for the small one, you might pay $15 for the large one. Which, let me assure you, I did not.

I know the ONLY reason you are here today is to see whose name I drew from the Pyrex bowl for The Fixer-Upper book giveaway. And the winner, revealed by one of those handy number generators, is my friend Carol at Old Glory Cottage! Woo-hoo! Carol, unless "somewhere in Illinois" will get your package to you, e-mail me with your address. Thanks to everyone who entered! 

Prize-winning puppies

 
When I'm old and gray (or older and gray enough that the every-six-weeks-rinse doesn't do the trick) I hope my kids will visit me and bring me gifts. Flowers and books and candy are nice, but what I really want them to bring me is a miscellaneous box lot from a country auction. It doesn't have to cost much. (In fact, it shouldn't.) It just has to have an interesting array of stuff. Like vintage photos of dogs.
 
Everything I know about vintage stuff I learned from a box lot. It was by way of a box lot last year that I learned that some people collect old photos of dogs. (This isn't heavy-duty research, by the way. I was looking up old wedding photos on eBay last year and saw lots of dog photos that people seemed to be buying.) So at last week's auction, I bought a box lot that had these lovely old bulldog photos.
 
There was other fun stuff in the box that I didn't discover until later, like these dog show ribbons. I think it's reasonable to assume the bulldogs won the ribbons. There also was an autograph book from the late 1800s, a collection of hunting licenses and a book of Masonic rituals. Did you know that people collect old hunting licenses, especially tin ones? I did not. I don't know what you would use them for, but that can be said of most collections. I did know that people collect Masonic stuff, but it's one of those areas that I have a hard time working up a lot of enthusiasm for. Some Masonic books are worthless, and some sell for more than $1,000. I suspect the book I have isn't worth much, but if by some miracle it was worth more than $1,000 I probably could get pretty enthusiastic about Masonic collectibles. Oh, probably not. They just seem weird and boring to me. (My apologies if all of you turn out to be devoted followers of all things Freemason.)
 
There are duplicates of this photo, so I think I'm going to keep one and frame it with a ribbon. As luck would have it, I got a frame in a box lot at an auction Wednesday night. I love a good midweek auction, as it keeps the weekend free for, well, other auctions. Not only did I buy a boatload of junk at the auction, I have a witness, since Sue was there. (And not bidding, as she wisely did not want a boatload of junk herself.) I haven't unloaded it from the car yet, as some of it cannot be allowed to come in the house, but I'm sure you'll be seeing it soon.

Last day to enter the giveaway - go! And go visit Amy, because you just should visit Amy anyway, but she, too, has a little something special going on!
 

Little things

 
Would you like to watch a little television?
 
OK. Watch the little television. See how the salt and pepper shakers pop up when I turn it on?
 
How about a little toast?
 
This will take only a second.
 
And it's ready! Would you like the salt or the pepper?
 
I bought a couple of box lots of salt and pepper shakers Saturday (in addition to the cigar boxes full of salt and pepper shakers), and although there are probably some that are more valuable, the little plastic novelty ones are my favorites. The Grandma's stove box in one of the box lots was just what it promised: a sugar bowl with salt and pepper pots, still wrapped and carefully packed.
 
Pink and red and perfect. I'm having serious doubts about selling it. I'm pretty sure nobody would want it anyway. Right? (Remember: Friends don't let friends sell things they really want to keep.)

Hey, not like you would, but don't forget to enter to win a copy of The Fixer Upper. Just go leave a comment here.