making a quilt
One of the things I love to do as winter approaches is to make a quilt. My quilts are not the beautiful, hand-stitched, carefully patterned quilts I admire. My quilts are usually patchwork and often machine sewed, although some I quilt by hand, with long, uneven stitches.
a few of the quilts I’ve made, mostly lap-sized quilts for winter evenings
This fall, I am working on a quilt for our bed, in the theme of ferns and poppies. I have used an old blanket covered in blue roses as the batting, given to me years ago by my uncle. It has a large tea stain in one corner and is not as warm as our modern bedding, but I would like to keep it for sentimental reasons, so I am using it as the base for my new quilt.
For the fabric, I am using various bits and pieces I have collected over the years. I can’t resist fabrics and when I visit the store, I often leave with a half meter of a fabric I love, even if I have no planned project.
I am planning to make the quilt entirely by machine, following a method my Dad told me his mother used. She would take an old blanket and sew the patches on by hand, one at a time, covering the adjacent seams as she went.
First, I chose a width for the patches and cut a piece of sturdy cardboard for the template. I marked the fabric with bands in the width of the template, to use as an inked guideline to keep my fabrics straight…
Then I cut my fabrics the width of the template and arrange them, right sides together and pin them to the blanket, making sure the edges of my fabric follow the inked guidelines…
Then I sew a seam…
When each piece is sewn, I open it to the right side to reveal a neatly attached patch…
Once I have worked my way around the blanket, attaching one row of patches, I will add another row, leaving one inked guideline row empty.
After I have finished the rows of patches, I will add long strips of fabric to fill in the empty rows and to cover the rough edges left by the first rows of patches.
I will have to pin and top-sew the other edge of this strip of fabric, to cover all the raw edges.
Then, when all the edges are hidden or turned in, I will top-quilt all of the patches with the machine.
The last step will be to select a fabric to cover the other side of the blanket. I think I will attach this layer with ties, another old-fashioned method of making a quilt.
I’ll show you the quilt when it is completed, probably next year!!!
Do you make quilts and what is your method???
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
occupation: shoemaker
On a short vacation to eastern Ontario last month to visit my niece, we visited Upper Canada Village. It was a memorable day. My favorite of the many buildings on site was the shoemaker’s workshop. I was particularly interested because my great, great-grandfather, Josiah Hawk, was a shoemaker. I know this from two sources, an entry in the Pennsylvania Census for 1860, and a list of the items in an Inventory and Appraisement at his death in 1865 at 33 years of age.
In 2001, I became interested in studying my maternal great-grandmother Ellen’s history. Ellen (Ella) was Josiah’s daughter. One evening, I was puzzling over a poorly copied entry in the 1860 Census, trying to figure out his occupation. I was tired and my eyes went a bit blurry … by bending the paper a little, I suddenly saw what it said… ‘Master Shoemaker’. My delight at this discovery was immense.
Later, when I read a list of Josiah’s property at the time of his death, his occupation was confirmed. His belongings included: ‘…1 shoe bench, 1 lot of shoe mackers [makers] tools, one cramping [crimping] machine, [and] 1 lot of leather …’, among other worker’s tools.
I have relatively little information about my great-grandmother’s life, but I can imagine that she knew her father’s profession and his workshop. Perhaps, as a little girl, Ella played in the workshop and knew the smells of the leather and the sounds of the shoemaker at his work.
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leather and boot polish
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the leather in my Papa’s shop
makes a kind of tent
where I can play
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Papa pays me no attention
sews seams in Mr. Gruber’s boots
heels a pair of Sunday shoes
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at church, I bend to see
beneath the benches
all those solemn feet
wearing Papa’s leather
boots and shoes
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
Mountain Road adventure
Last week, we decided to take a drive along Mountain Road. This is a trail extending from Mazerolle Settlement outside Fredericton, New Brunswick to Newmarket, near Harvey Station. We used to take it regularly when my husband and I first knew one another, over 30 years ago. In those days, it was a narrow road built along the side of Porcupine Mountain. It was overhung with hardwoods and crossed the upper part of the Woolastook Game Refuge. We decided it would make a good drive on an October afternoon.
The drive started with a sighting of White-tailed Deer near the road entrance.
Then we stopped briefly at an inlet of the St. John River, to watch a Blue Heron take off and circle the cove.
Although there are a few houses along the first part of the road, the area is generally uninhabited and the woods on either side of the road were still natural. The trees were beautiful – oak, maple and beech were all in various autumn hues.
It has rained recently, and as we went further along the road, its deteriorated condition became evident. Culverts were heaved at several points and we had to take our time as the waterholes in the road became deeper and deeper.
Although the road bed was generally solid, we could feel the tires slipping sideways in a couple of the puddles.
At last, unable to see through the muddy water, and wondering if there were any big rocks lurking there, ready to hang us up, my husband decided to turn back. It was foolish to proceed with summer tires and no winch to help us if we did get stuck. In the old days, we would have pressed on, willing to walk to the nearest main road, but arthritis interferes with foolish bravado!
Later, we’ll try the road from the other end. Perhaps we were through the worst, and pavement was just beyond the next big puddle.
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
www.nichepoetryandprose.wordpress.com
revisions
Yesterday was a very windy day. Some leaves have survived the gusts of wind, but not many. It has been a short drama of color this year, with only a few acts remaining. The maples still have some leaves, the poplars are just turning yellow, and the oak is only now losing its green.
While the wind was blowing, I was at my desk, revising some of my poems. It is my least favorite phase of writing poetry. I love the beginning, the first ideas fluttering around in my head, and put to paper. The page at this point is a confused mass of words and phrases, squiggles and arrows. I like these ‘pen and paper’ revisions. There is something about the hand-brain connection, so I write and rewrite quite liberally. By the time I commit the poem to the computer screen, it has already had five or six revisions. Once on the screen, I move things around a bit, but I print the page to do the finishing touches.
I am quite orderly about final revisions.
First, I work on what the poem is saying. This is so difficult for me, because I tend to write descriptive poetry. I have to challenge myself to add narrative, or clarify deeper meaning. Sometimes the poem gets a new title at this stage. Unfortunately, I am rarely happy with the results of this step in the revision process.
Next, I do the detailed revisions and for this, I have a checklist to follow (see ‘revision checklist for poetry’ under about)… I know my own work very well and I am prone to repeating words, using passive rather than active verbs, and using the singular when I should use the plural. I ‘press’ on each word in the poem, to see if another word will add additional meaning, improve internal rhyme, or covey a more accurate image. I count syllables … sometimes small changes will accentuate or create structure … sometimes there is little if any pattern to the poem. Lately, I am paying a lot of attention to the ends of the lines, trying to decide why I end each line where I do.
Finally, I read the poem aloud. This helps me to hear the words, and discover where the rhythm is off, and to know when to include smaller words like articles and when to let them go. Reading aloud also helps me with ‘voice’. I often shift from a child’s point of view to the technical and I have to be wary of leaving my audience in a state of confusion.
The next step in the revision process is more enjoyable. To do some final polishing, I read my poems to an audience. Sometimes this audience is a member of my family and I listen carefully to their suggestions. I especially think about bits they may not like. I also read my poems to the members of my two writing groups. They offer excellent critique and usually I make some revisions afterward.
When is a poem complete? Perhaps never. I still work on poems published years ago. I guess I agree with Oscar Wilde who said, “This morning I took out a comma and this afternoon I put it back in again.”
If you write poetry, how much time do you spend on revision? What process do you follow?
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revisions
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a violent October wind –
every tree bleeds red,
bends northward
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my books also lean
and the pencils in their holder
the colors in the hand-blown drinking glass
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purple lavender, scent of summer
the flowers now dry
braided with ribbon
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
apple picking time
October has taken hold and now signs of autumn are everywhere. Color seems to be the theme… the orange of pumpkins and gourds, the yellows and reds of the maple leaves, and the red of ripe apples.
On our way to the lake, we drive past orchards of apples. Most of the apples have been picked, but some trees are still laden with fruit. For me, the orchards are full of memories, of picking apples with my family when we were younger. I remember how much fun we had, my son and niece and nephew excited to be able to run free and pick the apples, and the adults thinking about the apple pie possibilities from those loaded trees.
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orchard outing
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wooden bushel baskets
of laughter, the delirious tumble
down the avenue of trees, shadows ripple
among the dapples, Cortlands tied
with scarlet ribbons and boughs burdened
to reach for us, my son grown tall
on his father’s shoulders,
stretches to pick the McIntosh
with the reddest shine,
small hand barely able
to grip the apple
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
Happy Thanksgiving!!!!
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for:
water, clear fresh water (we just got our well back after 7 days!)…
my family and the chance to share Thanksgiving dinner with at least some of them…
the glow surrounding our house this time of year (from all the maple leaves, changing color)…
the wind that blows on the hills above the lake…
and my collection of Thanksgiving post cards….
Happy Thanksgiving Day to everyone!!!
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
a pair of eagles
When we spend time at our lake property, we often see Bald Eagles. They nest in the large White Pines along the edge of the lake and I sometimes find their feathers near our arbour, suggesting they visit our place when we are not at home.
Today we watched a pair of them circle high in the sky, soaring effortlessly on the updrafts. They flew in sync with one another, so coordinated in their movements, they could have been dancing.
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fragments about wind
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the trees move as though branches flow from a bottle
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this morning I found
oak leaves on the sidewalk
and a young acorn with the nut missing
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a pair of eagles soars
wings lifted on
scant molecules of air
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
water, water
In the middle of the night, five days ago, I woke to the sound of our water pump laboring. The pump never comes on if no one is using the water, so I guessed something could be wrong. I counted the seconds and after a count of sixty, I knew we had trouble. The pump usually shuts off after about a minute. While I ran off a bit of water, my husband went down and shut off the pump. Our little saga of renewed water appreciation had begun!
We are on a private well, and so we tend to take our water for granted. It has a delicious earthy taste, and our well supplies water at a rate of about 20 gallons per minute, so we never have quantity problems. I am always grateful for our well water when I taste the chlorinated city water, which I have never been able to get used to. For 20 years, our jet pump has done its work faithfully, so we are never without good, clean water, except during the occasional power outage. Just in case, I always keep about 40 liters of water available in jugs, as a supply for these situations (the Emergency Measures Organisation suggests an emergency supply of at least 2 liters of water per person per day for the first 72 hours).
The next morning, we called the plumbing company and they came right away, replacing our old pump. But after using all my emergency supply of water to try to prime the new pump, it became obvious that we have a clogged foot-valve… the pump would not prime.
We now have to wait until Friday for another service to come, pull up the well pipe and replace the foot-valve. In the meanwhile, we are getting a lesson in water use and conservation.
Our main uses of water are for drinking and cooking, washing ourselves, rinsing vegetables, cleaning our dishes, and flushing toilets. Fortunately, I had a done a big laundry after returning from our recent vacation, so laundry will not be a problem for a while.
Meanwhile, we have adopted a hierarchy for water use, saving the remnants of each use … the grey water from bathing and doing dishes gets reused for toilets.
It also rained for the first two days of our water shortage, so I collected enough water to keep ahead of our bathroom needs for the first couple of days.
Our other source of water for the bathrooms is our dehumidifier. It puts out about a half-bucket of water a day. In ordinary times, this water goes down the drain without a thought, but now it is an important source for flushing the toilet.
For our other uses, we are lucky to be able to buy water from the grocery shelves. I can’t remember when water became a commodity, but I know my parents bought water occasionally in the 1980s.
Of course, we can also get our water from relatives and neighbors, or drive to a nearby lake, but our ‘crisis’ should be over by Friday.
This experience has been a good reminder for me, not to take water for granted. I used to repeat this message when I worked in the field of water conservation during my years with government. How easily I have forgotten my own advice!!!
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – sunset over the St. John River
the space: the St. John River at dusk
the beautiful: sunset over the river
Last evening as we drove home after a visit to my sister’s home, orange was on my mind. I was thinking of the bright orange pumpkins in the gardens, the orange of Japanese Lanterns, the orange of the turning leaves, and the orange of the running lights on the trucks on the highway. Then, as the sun went down, we were treated to the most beautiful orange, the color of the sunset over the St. John River.
A lovely introduction to the month of October……………..
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hauling sun
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eighteen-wheeled tractor pulls,
hauls the loaded b-train
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gears down for the grade, snags
light from the sunset, wanes
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and leaks from the headlamps
pushed forward into night
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ahead, on the dark road,
a cone of borrowed light
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
two last pages to write
Once the poems are written, and the footnotes are proofread, and the poems are snug in their sections, there are still two pages to write.
The first is the Acknowledgements page. I have so many people to thank. They include all the people who have helped me along the way. These will include the members of my two writing groups, who listened to me read from my work, month after month, and who offered lots of comments and suggestions. I will also thank my writing coaches who have given me specific criticism on particular poems and have improved my writing immensely with their mentoring. I will also thank the readers of my Blog, you, who have read my writing, given me huge encouragement and a way to work through my ideas. I will also be thanking the members of my family, particularly my son… they have listened to my poems and read them and suffered through the long story of my project from beginning to end. And, of course, I have to extend a huge thank you to the New Brunswick Arts Board, artsnb, for the Creations Grant that supported me during the project.
The second page to write is the Dedication. There is no contest for this one. This manuscript will be dedicated to my husband. In spite of self-proclaimed disinterest in the world of the arts, he has listened to every poem, often in multiple versions, helped me find words when they eluded me, and suffered my elation, moping and bad moods. He has also driven me all over the country-side to find edible plants, sat through an orchid identification course, and mingled with the botanists on a couple of field excursions. He has been there in the audience at public poetry readings and never complained about the hours I spend at courses and meetings and writing workshops. He flatly refused to eat any of my gatherings and concoctions, but I believe this was so he could call the paramedics if any of my plant identifications ever proved incorrect!
For his endless love and support, this manuscript is dedicated to my husband.
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
