I won, I won!

I'm so happy I won the giveaway from Suzan at Simply Vintageous!  I spent days standing by the mailbox and asking the mail lady, "Is it here, is it here?".  She says I'm like a kid on a long car trip.

Yesterday, it was here!  Inside the package was a lovely linen towel with a French, Napoleonic bee emblem, a luxe Candice Olsen notepad and a silver tea caddy spoon. ~

If ever a prize was made for a specific home, this is it.  It has French, it has silver, it has a tea accessory and it has black and white.  You must admit it needed to find it's way to this room! ~

The very best part of winning is the excuse to introduce you to my friend Suzan! ~

She's funny and witty and warm and serious and she makes wonderful things like this ~

I asked her to include that dresser in the package.  It must be coming in a separate post.

Don't tell her long suffering husband, John, that she shares their hilarious conversations about the joys of living with a blogger.  Read this and tell me if you don't want to check it out! ~

On my using decorative branches in the bathroom

After hearing a bellow from the bathroom - followed by mild cursing.........................
Suzan says - " are you ok in there? "
John says - " I think you're trying to kill me "
Suzan says -" I thought you were in the shower?"
John says - " that's not the problem - it's coming out of the shower that's the problem "
Suzan says - " well I didn't do anything wrong this time - I was in the living room "
John says - " I'VE JUST BEEN IMPALED BY A BLOODY TREE "
John says - " who puts branches right in the path of stepping out of a shower?"
John says - " You're getting dangerous "
John says - " yeah go on, laugh ( mimicking a squeaky feminine laugth )
John says - " Now run and tell your blogger friends what I just said - quick Suzan - run.
Suzan says - " OH PLEASE, I don't tell them every single thing you know................... 

Go on readers, click here and become another Simply Vintageous fan!

Thanks Suzy!  I'm waiting by the mail box for the Anne Of Green Gables dresser!

I Remember

As September 11 was drawing to a close, I thought of the lessons we learned on that terrible day in 2001.

I was pulling into my parent's driveway, to pick up my dad, when the radio announcer said a plane had struck the twin towers.  I assumed it was a light plane.  My dad was beckoning me to come inside, where the two of us stood and stared at CNN in horror.  We all know how the rest of the day unfolded.

As the day wore on, we felt the intended terror.  My daughter was working in the Canadian financial district. Would they be hit next?  I wanted her out of there!  Another daughter lived near a naval base.  I wanted her out of there!  We were frightened and we grieved for all the lost souls, just as the terrorists wanted us to.

But, they did not teach us the lesson they intended.  Instead, the 49th parallel disappeared and our medical and emergency personnel went to our neighbour's aid.  Every home in Newfoundland opened their doors to stranded airline passengers.  We cried with our neighbours to the south and cheered their courage and endurance.

We held our friends close and our families closer.

Business in my home decor shop dropped off dramatically. ~

For a time, no one cared what their house looked like, only that everyone was safe and snug inside.  The regular customers came in as usual, but they really only wanted to visit as friends.

That day, we learned to love, to appreciate, to care for those we don't know and to value the simple, true things in life.

We learned that the world is a small place and we are, "our brother's keeper".  We will never stop caring about goodness and right.  We will continue to send aid to those in need and speak up for those who can't speak for themselves.  We will be the best people we can be.

Beyond all the terror and the terrible price was was the knowledge that good people, from around the world, will unite against those who try to terrorize others into following their agenda. ~

image compliments of The Graphics Fairy

On this day of the year, I think all those who lost their lives look down on us and sprinkle a little angel dust to remind us of the lessons we learned.  Not once did I turn on a TV or a radio, but the dust drifted down to me and I remembered.    

Cats Think I'm Stupid!

Once again I have confirmed my cat's opinion that I am the densest thing living in this house.  Dogs don't do that.  Dogs think you are a veritable genius for being able to open fridges and drive cars!  Cats have a whole different set of criteria for intelligence.

Today, I gave this guy a kiss goodbye when I left the house. ~

He didn't move.  Not a twitch.  I called his name. Nothing.  Oh, my gosh, he's dead!  I did the only thing you can do with a dead cat and called his name louder and shook him.  He gave me a look that said, "Why would you wake me from such a good nap in that brutal way?".  Oops!  Hey, he's over 20 years old and I can't detect life in an animal that lies there like a stone!

That doesn't make me stupid does it?  Oh no.  I'm wise to their tricks.  I know they won't come when I call, if they don't feel like it.  I know they think I'm an idiot because I can't see where they are.  But, I've learned to look in the direction the other cats are looking, as they shake their heads in dismay, over my poor sense of vision, hearing and smell.  Aha, there you are!

I don't try to race this girl to the top of the stairs anymore.  She thinks I'm the slowest thing on the planet and even has time to pull most of the peacock feathers out of the vase before I get there!   If she's feeling really saucy, she'll teeter along the top rail to watch me hold my breath.~

They've no idea how I expect them to use this thing for anything other than a bed. ~

There's a perfectly good tongue and groove board wall upstairs to use for sharpening claws. ~

But the real insult came from the stray I call Black Kitty.  He can't have a name because he fights and sprays.  If he doesn't have a name he can't come inside to live. ~

Also, I already had three cats and I'm single and in danger of becoming the CRAZY CAT LADY!  For two years I've fed him outside.  The neighbours asked me not to.  Actually, they asked me not to feed any wild animals because they got a silly notion that the reason we had a wild animal problem was because I fed them all every day.  I just gave the neighbours my best, "What is wrong with you?" cat look and that ended the discussion.

Anyway, I've taught Black Kitty to roll over, which is the only trick I've ever been able to teach cats.

Get ready for it.  Start rolling! ~

Wait a minute!  Something is on his neck. ~

It's a flea collar and I didn't put it there!  Maybe I should attach a note asking if someone owns this guy. ~

My cats looked smugly at me as if to say, "We always knew you shouldn't be giving him any of our food.". Two years I have fed this guy and put up with him spraying my windows and doors!

I truly hope someone has just adopted him and I'm not losing face with the entire feline population, feral or otherwise, in this village!

Wallowing In Tomatoes!

For days and days I've been picking, washing, cooking, freezing and canning tomatoes!  I'm determined not to waste a single one.  But, sometimes you can get too much of a good thing!  Even my chickens are turning their noses up at them.

The crop is almost over and my industry brought the ripe ones down to this. ~

Hurray!  Now I can do my fall decorating!

Off to my sister's I go for dinner and I come home with... wait for it... a bucket of tomatoes! ~

As frightening a my garden abundance seemed, she was in danger of having them take over her house! Buckets and bowls of the things filled every nook and cranny of her kitchen and she hadn't even picked the ones that ripened today.  Now, she is resorting to forcing them on anyone who crosses her door!

Soooo, I set in to make tomato paste.  Nothing in a can comes close to the homemade version!

I put the concoction on to simmer. ~

Ten minutes of simmering and it's transferred to cookie sheets and popped in the oven.  Two hours later, I have this gourmet treat! ~

This time last year, I was wailing to you about the same tomato issue!  For the full recipe on how to make your own tomato paste click here.  This stuff really is delicious and worth a little effort!

Have a day where your only complaint is that you have too much!

I'm linking up with:
What's Cooking Wednesdays

Medalta Pottery

There's a new party in blogland!  Claudia at Mockingbird Hill Cottage has started a party for us to share  A Favorite Thing.  I wanted to join in and the hardest part was choosing WHICH of my things I loved the most!  I hate to show favouritism and I'm famously indecisive, but settled on some humble pieces of everyday pottery.

Medalta Potteries was a household name in Canada from 1916 until 1954 and was the major industry for Medicine Hat, Alberta.  My grandfather Jesse William Wyatt (Will to his family) was hired as superintendent in 1924 and travelled west, from Ontario, to his new position in a 1921 Ford touring car with his wife and five children.  The trip west is mentioned as a single line in the history books.  But, to our family, it includes two year old Jackie falling ill with pneumonia and them transferring to a train to get him there faster.  Jackie didn't survive and is remembered as, "The sweetest little boy ever.", by his sister who is ninety years old.

The old buildings are a museum today. ~

photo attribution here

My grandfather was a ninth generation, British trained, potter and master mould maker.  He designed and oversaw the massive, beehive kilns that soon dotted the landscape of the small prairie city.  He was a brilliant man and a little eccentric.  My uncle told the story of my grandfather going back to check on the kilns at night and not noticing that he had parked his expensive, new car on a pile of burning coals, until it went up in flames!    By 1929 Medalta Potteries was supplying 75% of all the ceramics in Canada and was shipping as far away as Australia.  Their bread and butter lines were everyday useful items like crocks, bean pots, chicken waterers and bed warmers.  Lamps and decorative wares soon joined the roster of over 700 items in production.

Then, the Great Depression struck and the mighty pottery was fighting for survival.  Workers reported for their shifts even though they didn't get paid. Uncle Bert said, "There was nowhere else to work so we figured we might as well show up."  My grandparents didn't get paid either.  Ranch families would trade chickens and eggs for Medalta wares.  I remember Nanny saying she didn't have any money but had lots of food.  Men rode the rails (stole rides on freight trains) to come west in hopes of finding work in the harvest. The large, brick house on the hill was the first they came to and Nanny had her kitchen maid make bacon and eggs for every one that came to her door.  She also gave each man a cigar because, "A man needs a nice smoke after a meal!".  The big house with the maid, the meals and cigars for tramps all faded away during those terrible times and my grandparents left Medicine Hat with only what could fit in a car.

You'll see me use this bowl over and over again as I cook and can. ~

It may have been made by my grandfather himself or his sons, Bert and Bill, who worked with him there.  It will certainly have been used to set bread to rise or filled with snapped beans by the women who owned it before me.

This bean pot had made it's way to Halifax, Nova Scotia for me to find in an antique store. ~

This lamp was found at my local Salvation Army store for $2. ~

The lamp had no shade so I took an old, paper lampshade from a hotel lamp and added the Medalta logo.  This shade came from an auction but you could swipe one from the next hotel you stay in.  My camera is doing something strange with the texture on the shade and making the logo look weirdly shaky but it's not like that in real life.  I made an inverted copy of the logo on a laser printer and transferred the image with a Blender pen.

And if you own a Medalta crock it may have been one that my grandfather sat on with my beloved Auntie Doe and my dad! ~ 

photo courtesy of  Medicine Hat Museum and Art Gallery

Oh, how I love these simple pieces of pottery!

I'm sharing this with ~

A Favorite Thing

When A Blog Becomes A Book

The first time I ever heard the word Blog was when my daughter started one to chronicle the day to day happenings after she bought her farm.  It was funny and sad and had days of pure joy and days of despair. She stumbled and fell and got right back up to try again.  I read it, the family read it and friends read it.Then, strangers started reading it and it grew to have a nice, little daily following.

The farm was never a money making operation and morphed into a sanctuary for abused and abandoned farm animals.  Some had been taken away from their owners, some were purchased to take them away from pure cruelty and some were surrendered by owners who had fallen on hard times.  All were ill or injured.

We followed the stories of piglets named Rusty  ~

and puppies found in dumpsters. ~

We met lame horses ~

and kittens that weren't wanted because they played too much. ~

This is the farm that rescued my Gert and Maude and hundreds of other chickens.  This is the farm that set up the pilot project that allows social workers to bring at risk boys, from group homes, in to work with rehabilitating the chickens.  That project is so successful that the boys have named my daughter "Mrs. Awesome".

Animal lovers and people who support the child programme have donated cat cages, blankets, pet food and, believe it or not, hand knit sweaters for the featherless chickens in winter.  Some have donated their time and others have donated money.  But, housing and feeding the ever growing menagerie is a very costly venture and most of the expense is shouldered by my daughter and her husband. 

They had two children and adopted four more.  Caring for all the animals and raising six kids left little time for blogging and Farm Girl gave it up.

Two years later, with the requests for more stories still coming in, she decided to edit the posts into a book.  Her literary agent had great faith in the book but she has decided to publish it as an e-book on Kindle.  

The pygmy goat on the cover is Tallulah and she was the very first rescue.  We all loved her dearly and she leaves a legacy of hope and sanctuary for all the rescues that pass through these barn doors.

Click here to read an Excerpt from The Flawed Farm.

It's only 99 cents to buy the whole book and every dollar helps the work go on.  If you don't have a Kindle, you can download Kindle as a free app to your computer, right from the Amazon order site. I learn something new every day!

I believe in Farm Girl's work and I'm sure you'll love to meet all the characters at the Flawed Farm.  I didn't even ask her to edit out the parts where she talks about growing up in a show biz family!  She'd only have rambled on at me about artistic integrity anyway and I'd know she heard all that from me when she was a kid.    

ps - When you get to the show biz part, I was monogamous and DID NOT do drugs.  I can't claim the same for all the artists in the 70's and 80's.  I did like to say, as I left for work each day, "Time for more sex, drugs and Rock & Roll".  It was the title of a book and seemed funny at the time.  How could I know I was raising a writer?  

Does Your Home Have A Name?

Three decades ago, when I moved to this house in the country, it was much smaller than it is today.  It was spider infested and swathed in shellacked plywood inside.  It was ugly and cramped, run down and overgrown.  But I had great hopes for it!

I recently asked a friend to put my chickens to bed while I was out of town.  Her husband came with her and as they passed the side door, he asked about the tiny sign painted near the top step of the old porch. She said it must mean something to me, and it does.

My very first day in this house, I named it Kellswater after an old Irish ballad. ~

I'd brought my Newfoundland puppy with me and her name was Kelly. ~

She was a special baby, born by C-section and never with her mother or litter mates.  The breeder bottle fed her until she realized the pup would never be show quality and was glad I would take it off her hands. Kelly never had any idea she was a dog!  She never knew I wasn't her mom!  Maybe I didn't know it either, because I carried that old dog when she could no longer walk.

The chorus to the song is ~

Here's a health to you, bonny Kellswater

For it's there you'll find the pleasures of life

And it's there you'll find a fishing and a farming

And a bonny wee girl for your wife.

And it was everything I hoped it would be!

We've had fishing in the lazy, old Grand River. ~

When Farm Girl was little, she tied a rake to Kelly and pretended to plough the yard.  Today, her daughter helps Grandma with my chicken farming. ~

My son-in-laws found it a perfect place to find a bonny wee wife. ~

I hope all of you have or find your Kellswater, for it's there you'll find the true things in life!