The asters have started blooming and that means only one thing — summer is over.
This year I attended summer camp. Well, it was a virtual summer camp, sponsored by Modern Quilt Studio. We all worked on a Mystery Quilt together. Well, together separately. If you are interested in the pattern, you can purchase it here. I’m not sure how long it will be available…possibly only until Oct. 1, 2023.
I was very pleased with my color palette, as it caused a great deal of agonizing on the front end of the project. But I was very happy with the way it turned out. The quilt is approximately 83 x 60.
In between installments, I was inspired to start some handwork. I really haven’t done any hand embroidery in years. Yet, my garden this year got me interested in trying something new.
Here is a pic of one of the cosmos in the garden.
And below is my interpretation of this flower in hand embroidery. Obviously, it takes quite a bit longer to stitch out when it’s done by hand…and designed in my head as I go along. A few more days, maybe a week.
And then what am I going to do with it? Well that’s a good question. I’ll have to think about it when it’s done.
I hope you have been keeping your head and hands busy this summer. As I sit here, it’s over 90 degrees outside. The warm weather seems to hang on longer into the fall season these days. But I know it’s time to start hauling out the autumn decor. And even as I stitch a piece of summer onto this fabric, I am thinking about the cooler weather, orange lights, and spooky trees.
How are you? What have you been working on? What have *I* been working on?
I’d love to say that my summer was smooth sailing and glorious. But let’s be honest with each other here. I had some minor health issues, and was struggling to find our son a car in time for him to go back to school. Once kids are no longer first year in college, they aren’t necessarily guaranteed a dorm room…at his school at least. So he made arrangements for an apartment, and it’s crazy to prep a 20 year old for his first apartment–long distance.
And the car? Have you tried to purchase a car lately? Dealers will take a deposit, and then you wait for the manufacturer to deliver whatever they have the parts to build. Seriously. Used cars? Ha. They cost as much as new (well, almost). My husband’s car is now worth more used than he paid for it brand new two years ago. Crazy times.
But for now, we are somewhat on track. He moves out again next week to his own place with a functioning car.
And in my spare time, I have been consumed with the vegetable garden.(And the bugs, the weeds, the critters, the watering). For whatever reason, the tomatoes have gone nuts this year. No kidding, the plants have jumped the shark.
Shown are Supersweet 100 cherry tomatoes, San Marzano Roma, Early Girl, Big Red and Beefmaster. All varieties are as disease-resistant as I could find. But things still nibble on them once in awhile. An old gardener once told me “If the nothing else will eat it, neither should you.”.
I have roasted tomatoes, given them to friends, forced my family to eat them for breakfast lunch and dinner. And this is after the cucumbers exploded. I planted *one* cucumber plant, knowing that would be just enough. But the plant produced well over 40 cucumbers. All in the span of a few days. I made jars and jars of fridge pickles, bread and butter pickles, carried armloads off to the Salvation Army Food Pantry and we had cukes with every meal.
Dear readers, I am suburban. If I were capable of canning I would certainly do it, but it scares the h— out of me. I don’t want to poison anyone down the road. I know how to cook and freeze things. I’m not afraid of letting things pickle in the fridge. But guaranteeing a seal with a water bath and all that jazz? Mmm…No. So this weekend, is Tomato Sauce Weekend. I will be spending my time making two different types of sauce and freezing them in meal sized portions.
And on top of that, I planted cantaloupe on a whim.
Now I have 5 cantaloupes in the fridge to eat (and counting…still some on the vine). So far, they have been tasty but not super sweet. I would have liked them to get a little sweeter, but I did as YouTube instructed me, and waited till they easily came off the vine. Some are delicious and some I throw out the back door into the woods for the squirrels. An experiment for sure.
And I have two watermelons. I really have no idea when those should be picked. They resemble what would be referred to as Black Diamond or Blackjack watermelons. Which just means they don’t have the traditional watermelon stripes. I am clueless. The name was not on the small container when I purchased them and now it’s just an interesting game. I am not invested in these being tasty at all…just curious as to what I’ve grown here. They look like black soccer balls in the garden.
Here’s a little recipe for you. I’m sure you can come up with your own way of consuming cherry tomatoes. I grew Supersweet 100 cherry tomatoes this year. I highly recommend them as they are disease-resistant and prolific.
These are roasted. Simply cut in half and arrange on a baking sheet with the cut side up, parchment paper lining. In a separate bowl, combine 2-3 tablespoons of good olive oil, 2 cloves of minced garlic and a teaspoon or so of Italian seasoning. Mix it up and meticulously spread it little by little over the top of every teensy cherry tomato half.
400 degrees in the oven for 20-25 minutes.
Toast some crunchy bread (I use gluten free), top with some goat cheese and then pile on the tomatoes. Chop a little basil if you have it. This year I grew Amazel Basil. Totally worth it. I’ve been harvesting for weeks and weeks.
I’ve been pounding out the pesto too.
Finally, every few days I get an amazing display of zinnias.
Here’s a two-gallon bucket full of them, just one morning’s trip. They are blooming so profusely that if I don’t cut the flowers and bring them inside the plants will begin to fall over from the heavy stems and blooms.
So have I sewn at all? Not a stitch. Though I have been knitting a tiny bit for stress relief.
But once that first cool breeze hits, I promise, I’ll get back to sewing. Suddenly, in the car this morning, I had an idea for something I’d like to try with fabric scraps.
Enjoy the last days of summer before the routines all change. My experience in the garden has been that lately, summer lasts through mid-October. But once the kids are back in school, even the plants are ready for a change.
And once I dig out from under these tomatoes, I’ll be back at the sewing machine. I’m feeling something new coming on. Happy harvest!
So do you remember the barren piece of dirt from the garden plot from my last post?
I went to work on it like a crazed garden lady, and by June I had conquered some of the hurdles and seed was in the ground. I also managed to plant a few things, like tomatoes, cucumbers, beans and peppers.
Day after day during the drought, I showed up. I dragged gallon after gallon of water onto the tomatoes the lettuces, the kales, the flowers.
I weeded. I got out the hula hoe and I worked it, baby.
Here is what I managed to eke out of it by mid-June.
I harvested young lettuces, and kale. Delicious.
Then the rains came. And came. And came. A small pond formed in the garden at one end. Rivers flowed from the tomatoes to the dahlias on down to the peppers and just kept flowing.
I couldn’t walk in the garden even a little. My shoes sank down into squishy mud, and I could barely pull them out. If I managed to pull out a weed, it took out a pound of dirt with it. The waters didn’t recede, but I did.
I’ll give it a couple of days, I thought.
In the meantime, I started feeling pain on the ball of my right foot. It felt like a balled up sock was there. I had to stop walking on it. I started to see doctors…what’s happening with my foot? Well, they said…could be overuse, could be neuroma. Try rest.
So while the garden dried out, I rested my quirky foot. On a day when it didn’t feel too bad, I ventured back to the plot.
Wait. This is not my nice little plot. This is some overgrown parcel of wildness with random plants. I made a feeble attempt to catch up on the madness.
Now let me just say that while the weeds are taking over, and Mother Earth is returning this site to its natural meadowland, I am getting an astounding amount of harvest. Despite the chaos, every day, I am able to harvest at least a pint of cherry tomatoes. (They are in the far left in the back) The zinnias, by the way, are prolific. They are producing like nobody’s business, and tolerated both drought and biblical flooding without the tiniest interruption in growth.
The dahlias (one shown above) on the other hand, are like precious fragile blown glass figurines. They wilt when it’s hot. They rot when they sit in moist soil around the tubers. They take forever to start growing and bloom late in the season. And mine? I have no idea if they will ever bloom. But for now, they are still alive. The grass growing in there? I can’t pull it, because if I do, the whole tuber will come up. Sigh.
All is not lost. My peppers and beans, tomatoes and cucumbers are producing well, despite my ping-ponging from doting obsession to negligence.
The cosmos and asters are happy as can be. They don’t seem to mind competition from weeds and grass.
A volunteer tomato plant appeared in the back and seems to be happily producing with no encouragement whatsoever. Same for some sort of weed that looks like it might produce either sunflowers or some sort of puffy seed pod.
Someone on social media was lamenting that they worked hard all season only to harvest 5 peas. Someone else recommended “The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden.”
I can relate.
Still. The first bite of that homegrown tomato was worth it all. The green beans…simply boiled, were the stuff of heaven. I had forgotten what food is supposed to taste like. Fresh green peppers? Like candy.
So.
If I try this again next year, I’m going to simplify. I really wanted cut flowers. Gonna have to stay with zinnias and cosmos.
Vegetables? Tried and true. Tomatoes, green beans, peppers.
This barren pathetic patch of earth is where I’m setting up my community garden plot this year. The ground is hard, prone to weeds and, frankly, as inhospitable a piece of land as I’ve worked on in a long time. It reminds me of pics from Curiosity, the Mars Rover.
It’s clear to me that it’s been deprived of nutrients and expected to perform over and over with nothing returned to the soil.
But it’s mine this year.
In our house, it’s a season of beginnings and endings. My son is heading off to college in August, saying goodbye to an old school, old friends, and his old parents. Yesterday, he was 10 years old, reluctantly traveling with me to 30 quilt shops one summer. We did the entire Northern Illinois Quilt Shop Hop. He was supplied plenty of food, was instructed to be Chief Navigator and man of the GPS, and off we went. We found our way to unknown towns (with candy shops) and got lost in cornfields and stopped in strange places for food and potty breaks. He later told me it was the best summer he ever had.
Fast forward a few years to the present, and he (again reluctantly) is tasked with helping his mother by carting 10 bags of organic compost and spreading it out on that empty, unyielding piece of land. (I’m going to make sure he’s happy to be headed off to school.)
In return, I’m making him a quilt of his choosing. I won’t go into the horror on his face when I showed him all his t-shirts from middle school and high school and suggested I’d make a quilt out of those. It was as though nightmare zombies from the dead had reappeared and come back to haunt him and travel with him to college. In the end, he selected a tasteful French General pattern. And it just so happens that I’d been collecting that fabric for years so…hooray…no new purchases.
With the cutting done, I’m ready to start sewing. I figure, if I don’t finish by August, it’s OK, I can always ship it to him. He won’t need an extra quilt for a month or two.
In the meantime, at the garden plot, I’ve had a few seed failures. I tried purchasing flower seeds from an independent grower, and most of those seeds just haven’t germinated. The commercial seeds have begun to emerge, and some of the vegetables are doing OK.
On we go into summer. I hope you have some exciting things planned. I’ll be delving into this quilt in between trips to carry water buckets at the garden plot. Wish me luck.
Yesterday, I went for my usual walk through the woods. I took the more scenic path this time, as it gets too buggy and overgrown during the summer for me to comfortably pass.
But this time of year, some of the weeds have died back, the crunch of leaves is underfoot, keeping some of the mud at bay, and the insects have thinned out.
So I took the road less traveled onto the ridge above the creek.
And that’s where I discovered the fallen sentinel.
This old oak had been standing at the top of the ridge, majestically leaning out over the cliff for as many years as I can remember hiking here. Its trunk is at least three feet in diameter.
The last time I passed through it was early spring, before the foliage filled out, while the creek gurgled its way around the bend. At the time, I could see the tree was getting too close to the edge. Or the edge was eroding too close to the tree. I gingerly stepped close and patted the bark of the tree. “My friend..this does not look great. But the cliff won’t erode that fast. I imagine it will be at least a few years.”
I went on my way.
The torrential rains of this past spring that prevented our farmers from getting their crops in the ground also took a toll on the ridge. As I wound my way through yesterday, I stopped in my tracks. The landmarks had changed, my bearings were rattled.
The earth had shifted.
And an old friend had tumbled.
I surveyed the area where the tree once stood. Everything had changed. Was it here? Was it slightly further back? I could no longer even recognize the place where it had once stood. It must have been months. It must have been the downpours. It must have been inevitable.
Still, I found myself sending a little blessing. And immediately wondering it the forest preserve would allow it to stay there, damming the creek.
I bowed my head and turned on the path to continue my journey. As I left I saw chipmunks scurrying and playing along the trunk and branches of the tree below.
Ever adjusting. Ever changing. Exploring a new landscape.
Have you ever spent hours on Pinterest? Wandered through quaint little shops in a seaside village or a charming midwestern town?
I’ve spent some time in local shops and in large home decor stores. I’ve browsed online and been to craft shows and art shows.
And I’m discouraged.
I am missing originality and I am as much a consumer as everyone else. Where are all the original thinkers? Where are the creatives out there doing what’s never been done? Am I just missing it? How can I go from an exurb of Chicago to a small town in Wisconsin, and find basically the exact same products?
I loved the inspirational script messages at one time, but to be honest, aren’t they getting old? If one more piece of wood or vinyl sticky for my wall tells me to “choose joy” I’m going to scream. (What does that mean anyway? Choose joy. Instead of eating chocolate? Instead of crying? Instead of reading the newspaper? Instead of choosing to make a change? Instead of choosing to work out?)
I even have a little houseplant pot that bears the message “grow.” The plant is suffering. And I think it’s because the pressure is too great and the obvious command on its outer shell is intimidating and off-putting.
I might also be watering it too much.
Nevertheless, it serves as a reminder that these constant, script-y, positive messages are numbing us to the reality around us.
If you are INSPIRED to paint the face of a cow in purples, oranges and teals, bless your heart and the artwork will be beautiful. But if you are purchasing the same one that’s shown in a chain of stores across the country, because…umm…”farmhouse”, well, what’s the point?
But anyone who thinks that farmhouse style begins and ends with anything but manure and straw and hay is kidding themselves. And the farmhouse I knew was cramped. We didn’t have a whole lot of decorative items. Most of them were practical. You needed a broom nearby to chase the bats that flew in at night. You needed a vacuum cleaner to get at the flies that swarmed the window sills in the summertime. You needed plenty of logs in the basement to keep the house heated all winter. You needed hooks and pegs for jackets and boots and fishing poles. When I was out in the barn no one ever had to tell me to “choose joy.”
Joy showed up uninvited. So did laughter and tears and hugs.
This week, let’s all go out and find something original to do. Something one-of-a-kind.
That’s the beauty of sewing. We can make things that no one else has made, and make memories that no one else has experienced.
Let’s be more authentic. And let’s ditch the mass market.
When is the last time you thought about where your quilting
stash comes from? Have you ever thought about the process, the transport, the
distribution? How many of us have ever even recognized on a conscious level
that quilt cotton is a plant?
If these questions seem abstruse or even mildly annoying,
you’re not alone. So few people care
about this issue. At least that’s the information I was given when I contacted
some of the largest distributors of quilting fabric around.
Moda told me there’s no market (that’s us) for organic fabric. Oh yes, they had one line of it a while ago and it didn’t sell terribly well, so…they don’t even carry any organic fabric right now. Fatquartershop.com who sells fabric online said they have nothing to do with the content of their products. In their copy on their website, they describe whatever a manufacturer tells them to say, and distribute on demand. Period.
Fabric designers tell me they do not get involved with the
fabric manufacturing process. They
license their designs and have no say in whether their designs are used sustainably/responsibly
or not. This may not be true for all of them, but it’s common practice.
So who makes the determination about whether fabric should be organic or not?
Surprise! It’s you. And me. We are the ones who define this market, and we will have to be the ones to require change.
The question is:
Do you think we need change?
Let’s talk about it a bit.
Because I’m going to make the case that we have no choice but to put
pressure on manufacturers to change their cotton growing processes. And we
might have to start with our local quilt shops.
Here’s why:
–70% of the world’s topsoil is degraded.
–It takes 1,000 years to replace 3 cm of degraded topsoil.
–With current farming practices, all the world’s topsoil will be gone in 60 years.
This is not my opinion.
This information is provided by lengthy studies done by the
Textile Exchange and reported in life cycle analyses done over spans of years.
Without topsoil, the world doesn’t eat, let alone quilt with natural fabrics.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be responsible for
my kids and grandkids being unable to have food and clothing because of my
simplistic, uneducated (and, frankly, selfish) choices.
I’ve seen some people make the case that organic fabric requires more resources.
That is simply not true. Not when using any scientific methodology of measurement. Not when attempting to understand the life cycle of the product. And certainly not when we entertain the implications of the alternative. On the contrary, we now have clear indications that water use on organic farms is far less than traditional practices.
I don’t pretend to understand all of the information on these two charts, but the explanation for them was very clear: Organic farming of cotton greatly reduces water and other energy consumption, and continuing on our current trajectory is simply not sustainable.
Here is where we encounter the power of market forces.
You and I can demand that things change. Manufacturers, distributors and farmers, all have little reason to improve their processes. Inertia and monetary fears will keep them all from advancing to more sustainable processes.
But the science tells us that we will pay a price one way or another. As consumers, we either start demanding organic cotton now, or we will not likely have access to any at all in the future. The choice is that simple and that stark.
But I’m just one person.
What can I do?
-Ask your local quilt shop to carry organic cotton. Be assertive. Those designers that you love? Their designs can be made on organic cotton. But folks like Moda (who is a HUGE distributor of fabric) think you don’t care. I’m telling you it’s time to care and care deeply.
—Contact folks like Moda directly: marketing@modafabrics.com and let them know about your concerns.
–Do your own research. Here are a few links to explore:
Folks like Wrangler, H & M and Nike are starting to recognize that their own businesses will not be around if they don’t educate consumers on organic products, and make the industry more sustainable.
The organic cotton industry has increased by 11% in the US from 2016 to 2018. But that’s not enough. Where does our quilt cotton come from? India? China? the US?
I don’t have all the answers. But I will continue to follow up. In the meantime, I will continue to work down my stash of fabric, and I plan on only purchasing organic fabric in the future. This is a statement I can only make because I’ve done a bit of homework on this and believe it is the best path for me.
I’ll be exploring more of the current manufacturers soon. The good news is that there ARE organic quilt fabrics out there. We just aren’t aware of them.
I leave you today with a current picture of my own garden out back. Our Midwestern loam is the finest on the planet. Everything grows here. But we need to be responsible stewards of the land, of our money and of our resources.
This time, I decided to try a little acrylic paint on it and see how it holds up in weather. The previous sign that I did has been out in rainstorms, thunder, wind and more, and looks just as nice as it did the day I put it out there.
To be honest, I’m a little shocked that it held up so well.
So this time, I pulled out my acrylics and painted up a patriotic floral for the Fourth of July. I have not added any finishing, like Mod Podge or varnish of any kind.
For the record, I asked Kraft-Tex for more information about their product. It is recyclable, and therefore biodegradable, but doesn’t fall apart in the rain. It is OEKO-TEX certified, which is standard in the textile industry in that the end product is certified to be non-toxic. It also holds an FSC accreditation (Forest Stewardship Council) Essentially, this means that the product is regulated to be using forestry resources responsibly as defined by the highest industry standards.
I’ll be getting back to my wool and quilting momentarily. But for now, I’m having a great time with outdoor decorating and garden crafts…using my sewing machine.
I’m guilty of spending a teensy bit less time in the sewing studio, and a bit more time out in the yard these days…like most of you, I’m guessing.
It will be raining off and on this weekend, so between trips to the store and out in the garden, I might get in a bit of organizing/sewing.
But for now, here’s a tribute to those of us who cannot resist the flowers. They cheer us, bloom under almost any circumstances, and lead the way into a new season.
But here’s a little peak at the hyacinth that have started popping up in my backyard. We all need a bit of the wild earth to sweep us away every now and then. For me, that happens in the spring and summer when the light and the blooms blend into tiny miracles. The closer I look, the more miraculous it all seems.
