Goodbye, garden.

While I should have been inside working on product, I decided today was best spent outside. Seventy degree days just don't happen much at the end of October and I just needed to feel the breeze and smell that musty autumn smell.

All summer I keep a garden. It's all I can think about from February until May. I spend a good amount of time thumbing through seed catalogs, searching through gardening sites and mapping out what my garden will look like. This year was no different. Though, I should be terribly truthful, when the humidity of July sets in, I turn to my other obsessions and the garden does its thing and just grows and grows. However, I love to watch it. I love that I turn the ground and feel so connected when I feel the heat of the soil on the bottoms of my feet. It turns out that my garden ends up being one of my best friends. I can go out and unload frustration. I nurture it and spend so much time thinking about it that it becomes this living breathing thing I can relate to.

So, today, I picked the last of the produce. An enormous amount of bell peppers and brussels sprouts that are awaiting a date with the freezer and the frying pan. But there was a surprise amongst the weeds, one last watermelon. It wasn't a great growing season for late watermelons this year. It was wet and the heat never stayed around for long. It produced a watermelon that was waterlogged, but I didn't care. I sat on the embankment at the end of my garden with a knife and a watermelon, looking over a summer's worth of labor and the sun hitting the now orange maple trees at the front of the house and thought about this great summer.

And it has been a great summer. I learned that I can fix things on my own, that I really truly am good at my job. I learned to love better and to take care of myself. I saw trains and the ocean. I made new friends. So, I cut that last water logged melon open and said goodbye to one of my best friends for a season. I felt the now cold soil beneath me and knew it was time to go. Next week, the whole thing will be tilled under and my garden will go to sleep. Its such a feeling of finality that is both enjoyable and terribly sad. That watermelon was terrible, but I ate half of it in celebration of a job well done.

It is all a lesson in change and acceptance. By the time I was done feasting, the next round of cold rainy days could be seen headed for my little house. As the clouds covered up the sun, I knew it was time to go in and start winterizing. A little piece inside of me will just be waiting for spring. When I get cold this winter, I'll just close my eyes and think about my feet in the dirt.

Be patient and wait.

The Need to Organize

In three weeks I have another show coming up. It is small and hometown and I'm not entirely worried about getting a massive amount of things done for it. Though, I'm quite certain when the day comes, I'll have a whole list compiled in my head of things that I wish I would have brought with me. There will be a lady there who would have been the perfect purchaser of a sketch in my book. But it will still be a sketch in my book. Sigh, why do I procrastinate?

Lately, I've felt this huge need to organize. Everything needs a place. It is like I am nesting. Maybe it is the beginning of the cold and the approaching days of grey and snow, or just a feeling that I'm finally ready to begin with fervor. Every room in my house has been rearranged, properly put together. I still need curtains in the living room and back porch, but with a deadline quickly approaching, they are going to have to wait. I am feeling frustrated. I'll post pictures of my newly organized house soon. But, until then, have a look at my fantasy life:

Laura Normandin of Wren Handmade

atelierpompadour

Hitomi Kimura at Kalla Designs

Sarah Neuburger at The Small Object

Heather Ross

I just need to get to work.

The first weekend in October.

It is officially fall here in the Indiana heartland. Part of me rejoices in the sweet earthy smell of falling leaves and the ability to once again wear layers and sleep under blankets. The other part of me dreads the upcoming snow drifts, holiday hustle and gas bills. However, one thing gets me so excited about fall: The Cataract Bean Dinner and Flea Market.

Yes, every year the Cataract Fire Department cooks 700 pounds of beans over a wood fire in these enormous cast iron pots. They begin way before the sun comes up and most times the night before. Someone guarding the pots all through the night. People show up in droves to an otherwise backwoods, if you blink you will miss it, sleepy sleepy town. All along the road people set up their wares and hawk old tools and try to get you to buy a winter's worth of china made socks for the low, low price of 5 dollars.

It thrills me.

I always eat a big bowl of ham and beans and sip on a glass of tea. We walk past the general store that has been there since the beginning of time and then walk back to the car stopping to pick up a bowl of pumpkin ice cream. Every year, it's always the same. The same old ladies are making the cornbread, the same old men are sitting by the general store.

This year's obsession is old linens. And I hit the jackpot. This really sweet lady had a drying rack full of precious and absolutely beautiful linens that she had hand washed and ironed for this special event. I picked up a whole bag for the low price of 14 dollars. Could I be ANY HAPPIER? I think not.
I'm obsessed with the loop stitch right now that creates the flowers. So this find of an embroidered table runner nearly brought me to tears. It is inspiring in its simplicity and detail.

There are hankies and wall hangings and tablecloths. I can't wait to find a purpose for them all. I need to get back to my sewing machine.

I have to say that as inconsequential as it seems, this little tiny festival way, way off the main road is my perfect idea of a great Sunday afternoon. My dad spilling beans down the front of his shirt and getting to meet his first bus driver. Seeing people I'd met a million years ago and wondering how they got so old. Only realizing I myself am getting older. The smell of woodsmoke when you first park and your mouth salivating. The pure glee of getting warm in the sun after poking around some one's treasure stash in the shade. I don't think I would want to be doing anything else the first weekend in October.