Sunday, October 28, 2012

A coverlet and other belonglings

It is so nice to be here again. 
Thank you to all of our faithful friends who've been commenting and bringing us cheer!
Here's something new!
My Dahling cousin Mabel made me this divine coverlet for my bed.
Isn't it beautiful? She crocheted it by hand out of tiny bamboo thread. It is heavenly soft.
Unfortunately, I still haven't made any bed clothes because I haven't had the right scraps.
 But at least my mattress may be covered now.

 And here is a box I made (well, covered anyway) for my deck of cards to go in.
And here are some more trinkets around my boudoir that I thought you might enjoy.
Some are mine, some I borrowed from Marmee.

 This origami box was made by my friend Kacie. It works perfectly for holding my china plates and it looks splendid besides. Underneath it is my big fluffy soft cushion which comes in handy in many situations (especially if you happen to be made of china), remade from a vintage quilt by my other lovely friend at May Farm Cottage.
 I hope you are all enjoying the Fall as much as I am! 
This weekend we went over the Mountains to get some apples for baking and canning! Oh! The colors we saw on the trees! So magnificent! It rained all weekend which made it even more of an adventure and made me quite glad I brought my woolies. :)

Now that we're home, I am so much looking forward to doing some baking, sewing, getting started on Christmas presents, redecorating my boudoir and crocheting some coziness for the cold months ahead.
What are your plans for the frosty afternoons?
I would love to know. =]
All my love,

Monday, October 15, 2012

a forest hymn

 I just found this poem that is so breathtakingly beautiful, I had to share it.

A Forest Hymn 
by William Cullen Bryant 
 The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,---ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences,
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd, and under roofs,
That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least,
Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn---thrice happy, if it find
Acceptance in His ear.
Father, thy hand
Hath reared these venerable columns, thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in the breeze,
And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow,
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
Among their branches, till, at last, they stood,
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark,
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold
Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults,
These winding aisles, of human pomp and pride
Report not. No fantastic carvings show
The boast of our vain race to change the form
Of thy fair works. But thou art here---thou fill'st
The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds
That run along the summit of these trees
In music; thou art in the cooler breath
That from the inmost darkness of the place
Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground,
The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee.
Here is continual worship;---Nature, here,
In the tranquility that thou dost love,
Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around,
From perch to perch, the solitary bird
Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs,
Wells softly forth and wandering steeps the roots
Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale
Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left
Thyself without a witness, in these shades,
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace
Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak---
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem
Almost annihilated---not a prince,
In all that proud old world beyond the deep,
E'er wore his crown as lofty as he
Wears the green coronal of leaves with which
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower
With scented breath, and look so like a smile,
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token of the upholding Love,
That are the soul of this wide universe.

My heart is awed within me when I think
Of the great miracle that still goes on,
In silence, round me---the perpetual work
Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed
Forever. Written on thy works I read
The lesson of thy own eternity.
Lo! all grow old and die---but see again,
How on the faltering footsteps of decay
Youth presses----ever gay and beautiful youth
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees
Wave not less proudly that their ancestors
Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost
One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet,
After the flight of untold centuries,
The freshness of her far beginning lies
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate
Of his arch enemy Death---yea, seats himself
Upon the tyrant's throne---the sepulchre,
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe
Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end.

There have been holy men who hid themselves
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave
Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived
The generation born with them, nor seemed
Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks
Around them;---and there have been holy men
Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus.
But let me often to these solitudes
Retire, and in thy presence reassure
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies,
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink
And tremble and are still. Oh, God! when thou
Dost scare the world with falling thunderbolts, or fill,
With all the waters of the firmament,
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods
And drowns the village; when, at thy call,
Uprises the great deep and throws himself
Upon the continent, and overwhelms
Its cities---who forgets not, at the sight
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power,
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by?
Oh, from these sterner aspects of thy face
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath
Of the mad unchained elements to teach
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate,
In these calm shades, thy milder majesty,
And to the beautiful order of the works
Learn to conform the order of our lives. 


Sunday, October 14, 2012

a fairy banquet

This quiet place by the river was so perfect and serene, I could've spent all day arranging leaves, tree bark and stones into tiny little houses. It is one of my favorite things to do whilst enjoying nature's fair splendor.

Here is the banqueting hall, all ready for the feast!
A tree bark roof will protect them from the sun and rain and a fire place with logs neatly stacked is an assurance of warmth for the cool night.
 The table is arrayed with forest finery and seats of stone to sit upon are there, ready for the arrival of the fair guests. The ground is carpeted with soft leaves and the fairies are all preparing their gowns of sparkling gossamer threads and soft petal shoes for the starlight fairy dance.  

Thursday, October 11, 2012

a visit to the world of big people

 Have you ever made something very, very tiny? 
What a delight it was to make these teensy playing cards!
And, with a little difficulty, play an entire card game. 
Doesn't she look like the Queen of Hearts? Ha ha!
 A dear friend of ours, from The Garret Corner, invited us over for a Regency Whist Party during the Christmas holidays. A perfectly jolly time we all had being together and learning how to play Whist with our amiable friends.
 So, I thought, why not bring it down to size for our fashionables, hmm?
And so I did. With card stock, pencil, pen, ink, a rubber stamp and some scissors. They are about 1/2" x 5/8" and the stack of 52 is about the same thickness as a people sized deck of cards. But, My! What a great deal of fun for such a tiny parcel.

Happy Autumn!