This quilt was constructed from a kit purchased at an Omaha quilt shop when I was last in Nebraska (2016) for the court guardianship hearing for Judy. I had moved her to Connecticut and was back in our home state finalizing the legal details. The pattern, named Remember Me, came with supplied batik materials which were all very pretty. I brought it back to CT, got busy and didn’t work on it until a quilt retreat a couple of years later and I believe Judy had actually passed away at that point. So, its name is Remembering Judy. It’s been an easy quilt to piece, but a though one to work on because of the association. But in the past few months, as I’ve been sewing, I’ve been remembering Judy and telling Judy stories. And I have dozens of them. And Facebook has been very recently bringing up some touching memories of my last visit to our middle sister in Des Moines. So, this truly has been a “remembering” quilt.
I quilted it on my longarm and have submitted it to the Bayberry Quilt Guild show here on Cape Cod. Tomorrow when I see it hanging for the first time, I will learn whether or not it’s really square and if it hangs well. Here it is on the deck railing outside my Cape Cod studio,
Last Wednesday’s sunset was found at First Encounter Beach in Eastham. I do like the summer time schedule — you can eat dinner and go out for sunset after. It was a glorious night at the end of a nice warm day and for once I was organized to get dinner cooked, served, and cleaned up after with plenty of time to get to the bayside for sunset.
We spent some time looking at Paco, talking to his owner, and trying to get him to say “hello”, which he eventually did as we were walking away.
And we also spent some time watching an absolutely beautiful sunset.
Heading into Orleans for a coffee, we drove by Rock Harbor and discovered, as is often the case, that the sunset “afterglow” is sometimes more fantastic and sky-filling than the actual dropping of the sun below the horizon.
And across from the Hot Chocolate Sparrow where we were enjoying lattes while sitting outside at the end of a wonderful day ……… along the bike trail ……..
One of the distinctly Cape Cod things to do in our area is to go to Rock Harbor in Orleans and view the sunset. If the timing is correct and it’s low tide, you can walk the flats. The wet sand goes out forever and ever. It is so interesting to walk where the water has just been, looking at what’s left laying by the receding tide and watching the glorious oranges, yellows, purples, and blues of the dropping sun. A glorious summer activity that never gets old.
And this is the reason why. Yellow is such a happy color. The sun is shining more now that the days are longer — yellow. The warmth of the sunshine has made the daffodils spring forth from the ground — yellow. I’ve been doing a lot of quilting in my studio on the Cape — Totally Tulips, with yellow tops! Yes, yellow — a happy color.
I feel I should be saying “Happy Ground Hog Day” since: 1) it is just two days after 2/2/22 and 2) I am about to write post about how I’m going to pick up the blogging, AGAIN!
So: 1) Happy new year! 2) Happy ground hog day! 3) Happy “year of the tiger” 4) Happy opening day of the 2022 olympics
No photos here, but will hook up a camera soon – or transfer some from my iPhone (if I can figure out how). So much has changed technically since I used to do this easily. Apple, in its ongoing effort to make things more interesting, has actually made it harder to grab photos randomly from my iPhone and put them on my MacBook. Go figure!
And, if I weren’t so tired, I’d put in a haiku here as that’s one of my “resolutions”. So, nothing profound here; nothing new either.
But, begin as you intend to go forward, or something like that.
Hubby and I set out today to go out to lunch, each of us in our respective convertibles. His (a 1951 Crosley) and mine (a 2005 Mini Cooper). I was following him down the road when he rolled to a stop on the low bridge over the swamp / Norwalk River about a mile and a half from home. Assuming the car was out of gas, he sent me back home for the gas can. But even when the little “yella fella” was fully supplied, he wouldn’t start. An antique car enthusiast stopped by but all he was able to do was use his pickup truck to successfully protect the little car from traffic while they tinkered with it.
We pushed it onto a convenient parking area alongside the road and I took Hubby home for the truck and trailer. As you can perhaps tell, it was a beautiful day. Facebook photos for documentation purposes.
Yes, an adventure, but I would have rather had the lunch on the deli’s patio that we had planned.
The Olympus digital SLR camera came out of the case to receive some freshly charged batteries and start recording a view of the world or more particularly, my gardens. Today’s excursion outside included photographs of the peach lilies in the pond.
The way that the lens softened the top of the water just fascinates me. And note the fallen oak leaf sneaking into the photo on the very right edge. Just like fall — getting ready to sneak in here and end our glorious summer.
There are actually two lilies blooming out there, but the light and the angle I had to stand to photo the other one just didn’t work. If I had actually been IN the pond, it would have worked fine. Maybe later this week.
And, the real reason for getting this good camera out and back working was evidenced in the prior post — I wanted to get some good sunset photos at the Cape. Well, it was a bit cloudy there in early evenings the past two weeks and there wasn’t much of a sunset to photograph. But this past Thursday, at the Chirp concert in Ridgefield, the sunset wasn’t bad.
One of the most peaceful, squishy, pleasant, awe-inspiring things to do on the Cape.
We headed into Orleans for takeout — took it to First Encounter beach where we “watched” the sunset, or what would have been sunset if the cloud bank had not been so thick. However, it was low tide and you could walk “forever” on the flats or as far as you wanted until the returning tide would chase you in. We walked out a bit – nice to be out away from shore — no mosquitoes out there. This is absolutely one of my most favorite things to do here. It’s something about walking out far enough to turn around a look at shore and be standing where you wouldn’t be able to with the tide fully in.
And hopefully, this is the beginning of a new year. I always make new year’s resolutions on my birthday. Going to try blogging once again — as I enjoy looking back at this electronic scrap book.
I did read that, during the Coronavirus pandemic, people were turning back to writing and blogging to document their feelings and fears. Apparently, blogging has not captured my intention for over a year now, and sporadically prior to that. So, new year’s resolutions abound in my mind. Not New Years Day, you say? Well, according to the calendar, you are correct dear blog. But in my mind, this is a time of new beginnings and I have never been one for resolutions of change around January 1st anyway. Usually I reserve them for nearer my birthday.
But on this, the first full day of Summer in 2020, I am looking at the recent and not so recent past and am going to write about it. I don’t enjoy re-reading this blog without photos, so tomorrow at the table on the patio, I will hook up my phone and see about adding some photos to this here post! In the mean time, a good night’s sleep is on the agenda for the immediate future.
Quilting has been my therapy for the past year. Actually, fondling fabric has been a pastime for quite a few years. But in 2018, after my youngest sister passed away, it became a necessity. When in my quilting studio — whether picking and cleaning up, or organizing, or planning, or actually creating — time just seems to fly by. And my worries and cares recede a bit and things get back into perspective.
Colors and the peace that comes from cutting up fabric and putting it back together again into a quilt top are a necessity.
And I hope to be busy in this studio for quite some time — and have named it “The Beehive” — in much positive contrast to the bomb shelter, or bat cave, as I was referring to it in my mind.
So — some photos for inspiration of works in process in The Beehive.