Winter

Hope Chests

They were called “hope chests”—those large cedar storage chests where we hopeful young girls stored what we would need for our future households. In years past, preparing for our future included embroidering dishtowels and tablecloth sets, crocheting pillowcase edging and doilies, and knitting afghans. Filling our hope chests was an expected and honorable pastime. We often started as early as 6 or 7 years old, coached in simple embroidery and crocheting techniques by patient mothers, grandmothers, and aunts. The time spent sharing the wisdom, experience, and knowledge of the older generations, provided the most valuable lessons of all. Needlework skills were incidental to the love, encouragement, and confidence that were woven into the fabric of our lives during those sessions. We prepared for our future days of the week by embroidering dishtowels with designs depicting a predictable work schedule, like a day planner on cotton. For example, Monday was wash…

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Jam Session

Jam Session

“Give me your ‘A’, Paul.I scoot onto the wooden stool and shift the guitar strap over my neck. The banjo twangs once, twice, three times—the solemn bestowal of the “A.”Another “picker” comes down the basement stairs as I am tuning up. He’s holding a guitar case in one hand and a mandolin case in the other.“Hey, do you think Mike’s going to make it? Will we have some fiddlers? What about a bass?”As if on cue, others begin to arrive, some carrying as many as three instruments. I drag out more stools and armless chairs to accommodate new arrivals. Empty instrument cases begin to pile up in the corner like cast-off cocoons.Another “A” is passed around with the conversation, intermittent twangs, plinks, and plunks sneaking up on it until each instrument is pronounced “within hollerin’ distance.”Anticipation building with excitement, the melodic strains of “Wildwood Flower” begins to emerge from somewhere…

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Snow Garden

I just filled out my seed order for spring planting, eighteen packets of seed for my one hundred square feet of garden space. Let’s see, I ordered sweet peas, the Early Mammoth, which will have “exceptionally beautiful, large ruffled blossoms with graceful curling tendrils.” It will climb quickly and produce “sweet-scented perfect big flowers in lovely colors.” I definitely need them to climb my white lattice trellis that canopies my white-slatted garden bench, like the picture in the catalogue. There I will sit among chintz cushions and reread Jane Austen during my leisure time on warm summer days. I also ordered lavender. “With its heady scent and gray-green foliage, lavenders make perfect landscape plants.” Barefoot, I will float through fragrant fields with the early-morning mist. Perhaps I’ll make my own lavender soaps and perfumes; at the very least, I will tie dried sprigs into tiny bundles to place among my…

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