Oodles and oodles

Episode 8: Quite a lineup

 
As promised, or threatened, in this earlier post, I had some random quilt squares to show you. The other ones came in quantities large enough to make a quilt, but there's just one of each of these.

(On the subject of the earlier post, you might remember I asked for some guidance on which set (or two) to keep. I don't know how many of you said "Keep them all!" Friends, was that one of the choices? No, it was not. But even if most of you were no help at all, I admire your enthusiasm.)

 
On the subject of keep vs. sell, this one is a keeper. It's already quilted and bound. Very nice of someone to have it ready for me to display.

 
If I had a quilt made of sunflower squares, I'd want to move to Kansas. If I lived in Kansas, I'd want a sunflower quilt. Either way, this square makes me think of Kansas.

 
Some color families: blues.

 
Greens.

 
Peaches and pinks.

 
Red prints.

 
And proof that there's no combination quite as striking as red and white.

 
On the subject of red and white, I found a single sailboat square just like the blue ones, except made with red and white checks. (By the way, I'm definitely keeping the blue sailboat squares. And probably the cheerful prints. But definitely the sailboats.)

Picture this: a little bedroom, with a built-in bed with drawers underneath and cubbyholes in the headboard. With a quilt made of the blue sailboat squares. And framed on the wall, single sailboat squares in blue and red. Probably somewhere on display, a large model sailboat. And on the wall, a poster for vintage boats.

I'd like a room like this, even if it would probably be more appropriate for, say, a 5-year-old.

 
No matter how you look at them ...

 
there's quite a lineup.

 

Notes from the garden

 
Pots.

 
Flower pots.

 
Flower pots on the $1 stepladders I got at a sale this spring.

 
At some point I realized that the only things on my deck and in my gardens that I didn't buy at either a yard sale or an estate sale were the flowers themselves. Except for this table and some of the chairs, which my neighbor gave me.

 
Less money on garden furniture = more money for plants.

 
Although the sunflower on the left was a gift, too, a volunteer that popped up not too far from the bird feeder.

 
My first success with heirloom tomatoes. This one's a Pink Icicle. It was pretty good.  Might be a better sauce tomato. I've picked a Sarah Black and a Purple Russian, too, but I don't have any photos of them. They were consumed, and they were delicious. I read this book a couple of weeks ago and was completely inspired by it. (Not to mention entertained and educated by it.) You can read more about it on this blog, also wonderful. I find a lot of garden writing kind of depressing, because it leaves me feeling hopelessly incompetent. But somehow this book left me feeling as if I were part of a larger community, engaged in good work. One of my favorite chapters was entirely about soil. I paid more attention than ever this spring to soil, and the book left me feeling very good about that.

 
If there were girly magazines that featured vegetables, my cucumbers would be the centerfold. I swear every seed germinated and grew into a magnificent vine with perfect leaves and blossoms. The beans are pretty great, too, but I didn't take a picture of them. I staggered the plantings so I wouldn't get a season's worth in the first picking, and good thing, because I picked three quarts of beans from four square feet of bean plants this morning. Happy soil = a happy garden, and as we all know, a happy garden = a happy gardener.

 

Postcard from Rhinebeck

 
If you've heard of the postcard-perfect village of Rhinebeck, New York, it may be because you're a fan of Edith Wharton's novels.

 
Or because you remember that's where Chelsea Clinton got married last summer, at Astor Courts, which was built by John Jacob Astor IV. (Photo from Huffington Post web site (and others.))

 
And that's where we were last weekend, at Astor Courts, where Mr. O's cousin and husband live. It was built between 1902 and 1904 by the architect Stanford White, and it was the sporting pavilion at the Astor estate. There was a main house, but it no longer exists. Really, though, a main house isn't really necessary when you have this place.

 
The entrance, with Miss and Mr. O. for scale.

 
I love this photo of jaded youth ... that's my son, daughter and lovely niece, looking distressed and bored, like It Is So Much Work hanging out on this marble patio waiting for our parents to take a group photo. Young Mr. O. was exhausted.

 
He'd spent the morning playing tennis with his girlfriend on the indoor clay court.

 
Here's the entry. The light is amazing, and so are the architectural details. (I could have amused myself for days taking photos of nothing but architectural details, but I think that might have gotten a little tiresome for others.) If you walk through the doorway in the center of the photo, you'll come to the pool, which is believed to be the first indoor residential pool in the United States.

I think the pool was my favorite part of the house, although I'd be hard pressed to pick. I just loved the light and the color, and how one entire side is made of windows that look out on tall pines. My pool photos are horrible, so here's one from the Astor Courts web site. (Just Google Astor Courts if you want to see more ... the photos in the web site portfolio are fantastic.) 

 
The table, set for dinner.

 
The perennial border, below and off the back of the porch.

 
The view of the Hudson and the Catskills from the porch.

 
Sweet Jo, hoping for a game of fetch.

 
Even the bees seem happier here.

 
My job was to pick flowers for the table. The pressure was on. But I think I did OK.

 
My crew, just as we're about to tuck into our dessert of lemon sorbet and raspberries. Honestly, we'd still be sitting here if we could find some legitimate reason for never, ever moving.

 
But we had other things we wanted to do.

 
Like stroll through the charming village.

 
And make plans to meet here for lunch on Saturday.

And what doesn't show in these photos are the conversations on the porch, catching up with family members we don't see often enough, hearing some stories for the first time and enjoying a few classic tales, most involving a famously badly behaved aunt. Pledging to do better than the previous generation in appreciating family and staying in touch. So, yes, the house was great. More than great. But it was the family time we had there that really made the experience amazing.

Still, I really did want to wear a blindfold once I got home, and now you know why. Don't say I didn't warn you.
 

 

 

 

Part 7: You decide

 
Opening a box marked "quilt squares" is like opening presents on Christmas morning. In some cases it can be better, because there's no need to pretend to like a sweater that you wouldn't wear in a hundred years. I didn't have to pretend to like any of these. I love them all. And all of them came in quantities large enough to make a quilt.

 
Except this one, where there's enough squares to make probably two quilts. Or ten. There are a bunch of them. I was going to lay them all out except it got really boring. Also, the 10 or 12 hours I spent in the car over the weekend has done something terrible to my back. It only hurts when I move. Or breathe. Or blink my eyes.

 
I'm soldiering on however. Here's a closeup.

 
Same pattern, different fabrics.

 
Shirting and double-pink prints are a great combination.

 
Another old print, this time in red.

A brief detour here to mention my weekend. Generally I come back from a trip so happy to be home. I walk around and mentally embrace my house and yard and garden. This time I came back unsettled. We visited with my husband's family at his cousin's house in Rhinebeck, NY.

 
Her house is lovely. Really, really lovely. Really, really, really ... well, I think you get the point. Let's take a vote: Do we want to see more photos sometime? Or would we rather not, knowing that it will only want to make us gouge out our eyes and gnash our teeth and leave us feeling ungrateful for the many good things with which we have been blessed?

Up to you. I just want you to know that since the weekend, I have taken to slamming doors and kicking inanimate (so far) objects and muttering "This place sucks."

 
With that happy thought in mind, let's return to the quilt squares.

 
Some closeups for you fabric people.

 
I'd say you fabric people are crazy except I'm one of you.

 
This package of squares almost makes me forget I don't live in a mansion with a spectacular view of the Hudson River and the Catskills.

 
 
 
 
I think a very cheerful person must have made these. Not a person who kicks things and mutters.

Before I show you the next quilt, I should warn you that finding it apparently caused me to shriek, because Mr. O., who's very good at ignoring me especially when I'm unpacking boxes, came in from the next room to see what the uproar was about.

 

 
Squares for a sailboat quilt.

 
In a tiny nautical print.

So as long as we're voting on whether to see more photos from the weekend, let me ask you this: If you were not a quilter, but you thought you might have it in you to finish one of these quilts at some point in your life, which set of squares would you keep? If you thought there would be no harm in keeping two sets, which would they be?

I await your thoughts.

 
Leaving you with this image of the squares that came in ones and twos. There probably will be more to see in this stack.

 
 




    

Act 6: Kits

 
I'll explain this drawing in a second, but first let me explain. I went away for a few days over the 4th of July weekend. That was, what, a week ago? I haven't been able to catch up on anything since: the garden, the house, work, you name it. And every day when I thought I'd take five minutes and read blogs, I'd see a daunting number. Numbers in the 200s. The 300s. Unread blog posts were multiplying faster than the weeds in my blackberry patch, and I had no choice.

I cleared out the blog reader. Yes, I declared blog reader bankruptcy. I emptied the cache and started anew, but I feel a certain amount of guilt. I apologize. It had to be done, if I ever wanted to read blogs again. And I do. What I would really like to do is redesign my blog, and clear out all the dormant blogs from my reader, and subscribe to some new blogs, and ... please. Tell me. When did blogging become another obligation? Do you feel that way sometimes?

  
Heaven knows there's been no time to go to sales, not that any have looked all that enticing, and not that it matters all that much, because honestly I meant it when I said I bought enough at that auction a while back to last me all summer. Did I mention I have to go out of town again this weekend? Would you like me to stop chattering and tell you what these pictures show?

 
Quilt kits. When I saw them, I thought my heart might beat out of my chest. I've never seen them before. A pattern, and all the fabric you need for a quilt. Who knew such wonderfulness existed? This one is especially lovely. The pattern is called "White House," and it calls for flowers in a rainbow of colors to be appliqued on a white oval, then placed on a pink backing and quilted.

  
Here's what the fabric in the quilt kits looks like: stamped with pieces to be cut out and appliqued, and where needed, embroidered. I got three kits, all of them still folded up and complete, as if they'd never been touched. The patterns are Rose of Sharon (shown in the first picture), the aforementioned White House, and Dogwood.

 
The directions for the Dogwood quilt and some of the materials that came with the kit.

 
There were unused apron kits, too, polished cotton to be embroidered. I'd say there's a one in 20 chance I might make an apron. I'd say the chances I'd make one of those quilts is one in 20,000,000.
  

 

 

Episode 5: Toys

 
Not that you don't already know.

 
Not that I have to convince you.

 
One look at this little schoolroom play set,

 
complete with a little globe,

 
and a box of crepe-paper people,

 
including a girl with rosy cheeks,

 
and a bespectacled schoolmarm,

 
 
tells you what you've always known.

 
Toys really were so much cuter a long time ago.

 

Chapter 4: Laundry and sweeping

 
One of my chief complaints about Central New York - right up there with no Ikea store and six months of winter - is the scarcity of vintage clothespin bags and laundry collectibles. Therefore, I was extremely happy to find some of each in various box lots I picked up at that epic auction.

 
Technically, I now own three vintage clothespin bags, making it a collection, but the first one I bought was terribly unattractive and I got it only because it was half-price and I figured I could use it for a pattern. So clothespin bags do not meet my high standards for a collection yet, but I'm close. It's good to set goals.

 
I can't tell you how long I've wanted the Dolli-Pin Clothes Line and Pin Set. It's not that I haven't seen them at shows. Or that I couldn't have gotten one on eBay. They're not all that expensive. But somehow I felt one would come to me, and it did, in a box of junk that I really didn't want.

 
With it came a tiny enamelware pan and scrub brush, for tiny stains on tiny dresses. And extra clothespins. Which made me extra happy.

 
And there was a tiny broom, which apparently was a promotional item for Hoover vacuum cleaners. On the handle of the brush it says "You'll be happier with a Hoover." I beg to differ. I'm happier with a tiny broom.