(content previously published on old Filigreen blog in 2016)
One beloved and well-used item lost in the tornado was my 33-year-old Kenmore sewing machine. Given to me by my Grandpa Wynn for my 16th birthday, it was my creative partner through four decades of fabulous fashions. I made some emerald green satin pants in 1979, some corduroy baggy jeans in the 80's, sundresses for my first daughter in the 90's, Halloween and Medieval Fair costumes for both children in the 00's, and what seemed like a whole forest of burlap tree costumes for The Wizard of Oz musical in the spring of 2013. Although my sewing machine did not blow away, it was rained on at our house site for three days after the tornado, and the carrying case had several inches of water in it by the time we were allowed back to the wreckage of our home. I drained the water, set it out to dry in our rental home's garage all the hot summer long, unable to dispose of it as there were so many memories of my hands guiding one vividly remembered fabric or another through the machine. When it was time to move into the new home, I finally put the ruined machine out with the other tornado debris that I had been reluctant to actually throw away. Yes, we had good insurance and I had been reimbursed for the value of a sewing maching, but the thought of a new machine just left me unimpressed, as I had loved my old one so much. As time passed, I searched for a metal-bodied sewing machine like my old Kenmore, but found only plastic-bodied models. After hemming and hawing, and complaining so much out of proportion to the issue to my patient husband, I went ahead and bought a plastic-bodied Singer. Of course, it sews just fine. And I have started a new parade of fabric swatch memories as I have sewn cream/blue toile curtains for the new house's kitchen bay window, cream lace frilly cowgirl skirts for the flower girls in my nephew's upcoming wedding, and started a quilt for my oldest daughter in red/white/black scrap fabrics. Red and Black were the school colors of her elementary school, Plaza Towers, that was so horrifically demolished by the tornado. I found a black-and-white gingham fabric shirt at the thrift store, with colorful flowers embroidered all over it, so I have been cutting little squares of the embroidered sections, to put at the intersections of the strips connecting my nine-patch blocks. I also am appliqueing seven little raspberry-red pinwale corduroy hearts randomly on the quilt-top, for the Plaza Towers students whose short lives ended that day in May 2013. For many years, especially as a young person, I was embarrassed of being so domestic. Cooking, gardening, and sewing are my great passions, and I always felt so dorky when asked what my hobbies were. Sometimes, it seemed as if I were born 100 years too late, but as I have grown older, I truly treasure my knowledge and skills in the humble domestic pursuit of sewing. Knowing how to mend, tailor, innovate, and alter garments, costumes, and home furnishings has given a richness to my life that I wouldn't want to do without. Nowadays, when someone asks what I do for leisure, I am proud to say, "I like to sew."
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(content previously published on old Filigreen blog in 2016)
I haven't made any blog entries since my announcement that we lost our home in the May 20 tornado. Recovery took precedence over creativity, and truly, I just didn't have it in me to continue at that time. So here we are months later . . . Several nudges this past couple of days have inspired me to take up my blog again and the first day of the new year seems like a perfectly appropriate time to start. I am sitting at the kitchen bay window that looks out over our backyard, at the "new" house. We have been here now nearly three months, and for me, it has begun to feel like home. My children are taking longer to feel a connection, but they are usually gone all day at school, and the other house had been their only home. My feelings of being connected to a homeplace are more grounded in functionality - where do I cook? where do we return to sleep? where do we feel a haven from the world? Both kids made more of a connection to the rental house we stayed in while we were house-hunting, while my husband and I were too freaked out by the bustling insect kingdom that was part & parcel of the neighborhood full of old and established maples. My hope is that downtime spent just hanging around the house during the school break will foster a little more of the home feeling for my children. Now that the usual round of holiday gatherings are over, there are more free evenings to tuck in with blankets on the couch with a book or movie marathon, more meals at home with both Mama and Daddy here together, and a whole new year ahead of us to look towards as we plan and dream. New Year's Day usually involves some incarnation of black-eyed peas, to ensure prosperity (perhaps through frugal living) for the coming year. My family is not really that fond of the humble black-eyed pea, and I really only have two ways to serve them. One is to open a couple cans of them, and simmer them on the stove for an hour with a little chopped bacon, some shaved onion, a bay leaf, generous salt & pepper, and a half-tablespoon of vinegar added at the end of cooking. They DO NOT reach the full glory of baked beans, but they are not half bad, either. The second way we eat them is as part of "Texas Caviar" - mixed in with the basic Pico de Gallo recipe: a can of black-eyed peas opened and drained, 3-4 good tomatoes chopped, green onion and white onion minced, 1 raw jalapeno seeded and minced, a couple tablespoons of fresh lime juice, small bunch of fresh cilantro chopped, and salt & pepper. Mixed and refrigerated for a couple of hours, it's good with tortilla chips or alongside meat as a savory condiment. Black-eyed peas always remind me of a story told by my Grandpa Wynn. Growing up poor as a sharecropper's son in East Texas, he ate plenty of beans growing up, cheap and filling and easily grown in his mother's well-tended kitchen garden. After church one day, he overheard another lady say to his mother, "Well, we better get home, I need to check on my beans. Lord, I am so tired of eating beans! Don't you ever get tired of eating beans day after day, Rosie?" Grandpa's mama replied, "Why, no I don't! We don't just eat beans, we have black-eyed peas, green peas, pinto beans, butter beans, pole beans, lima beans, and more! We eat something different every day!" (content previously published on old Filigreen blog in 2013/2015)
Living in the Tornado Capital of the World, I have come to regard Spring with one eye on the daffodils and irises, and the other on the thunderheads building in the west. What is for other parts of the country, a gradual awakening of Mother Earth, can be for us a season of nail-biting and being afraid to go to sleep in case a storm strikes in the night. While my husband and kids go on to bed, I spend the late hours of the night with the "other men" in my life - my local news station meteorologists. I trust these guys with my life, as I have seen over and over their dedication in staying on air for 12-14 hours while storms wheel across the state. The feeling I have towards them is somewhat like my feelings for the OB doctor who delivered my two babies - they really have protected the lives of people here with their devotion to getting it right on these critical days. In the 19 years we have lived here, we have had 4 tornados hit in the vicinity and so a spring thunderstorm can make for a sleepless night. Once I get the all-clear from "my weather guys", I am off to bed to dream of the quieter days of midsummer. Added as a postscript -- On Monday, May 20, 2013, the unthinkable happened. Once more, an EF5 tornado ground its way through Moore, Oklahoma, and our home of 19 years was destroyed in 60 seconds. That day left some enormous wounds in our hearts, lives, and our community. We are all moving forward as best we can, trusting God with our futures, knowing He is always with us and working from within us. I have always been a writer. I have not ever been much of a talker. The quiet child, quiet young person, quiet adult, wife, and mom who has always found it easier to listen than to articulate my thoughts. Now that I am older and the world in general (and I in particular) have become more aware of introversion, I value my quiet nature in a way I never could when I was younger. But writing . . . writing was always a magnet to me, and I started composing short poems when I was in grade school. In my middle school years, I wrote long, loopy letters to my pen pal and my grandmothers. In high school and college, I was committed to making regular journal entries. I did my best to keep up with my journals through motherhood, but sometimes years would go by between entries. However, when I felt the urge to write, I could always pick up my journal and pen again, and the words would flow as if there had been no interruption. It was with much delight and enthusiasm that I took up blogging a few years ago, with the best intentions of posting at least twice a month. Well, let's just say reality was quite different from my intentions! In the interest of getting back into a habit of regular blog posts, I have revamped my Filigreen site and am hoping to be a more productive blogger! I hope you enjoy my blog and reading about my different perspectives and projects. Welcome! |
AuthorI am Kelly - a wife, mother, cook, gardener, sewist, and much more. Creativity is the gift that I have been blessed with, and it has been a river of blessings to me. A creative outlet is good for you, body and soul. This blog is about helping you find ways to fit more creativity into your life, to enrich your own life and that of others. Archives
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