Patchwork Pie

This was in my email list this morning. 

How cute!

And you could do this with just about any pie. 

But, if you want to try this pie, click here.

The Long Arm...of the law?

I wanted to share a wonderful feature of my long arm....and it should be a law! 

The Mister mentioned the "Comfort Table" as a selling(buyer's) feature of the new long arm, when I was considering it.  I knew that it would be really nice to have, and yesterday it proved its weight in gold (even at today's prices!) The Comfort Table has an electric motor that raises and lowers the table, and thus the machine and the sewing surface. On my previous machine I had to release clips, one by one on 5 different legs, sliding the legs up or down to the next spot the clip could go in. The only way I could do this was assuming an "Atlas holding the earth on his back" posture, hunching under the table and lifting while releasing the clips. Not exactly great for one's body. Suffice it to say, once the table was at the correct height, it stayed there. The correct height being, for most quilting, at such a height that you have a 90° bend at your elbow when standing at the machine. 

Usually that's where my machine, on the comfort table resides. However, my back/hip/sciatic have been problematic recently. I also had a lot of tiny quilting to do. I lowered the machine, pulled up my chair, and went to work. It was perfect! 

At one point in the quilting process I needed to do some stitching at the very top of the quilt. It was difficult to see what I was doing at a seated height, and even standing, leaning over at the usual height was painful. I raised the table until it was almost chest high, allowing me to lean over without pain and quilt the portion at the top of the quilt, 

I have the best of all worlds!

Ding-Dong

We get a lot of visitors at our door....on our 5+ acres...behind a locked gate!

Many times a day....

Originally we taught the girls to 'touch' a bell hung from the door knob 

to let us know they wanted to go out. 

Kaitlyn is the queen of ringing the bell. 

She is our 'farm dog' and prefers to be out a lot during the day. 

Vickie will occasionally ring it. 

At our previous home we had the bells on the door leading to the lanai.

Once the dogs rang the bell, we could leave the door ajar

as it led to the screened-in pool cage and an opening to the fenced-in dog yard. 

They could come in at will. 

We didn't have that option at our new home. 

Segue....

I have always been fascinated by dogs who learn to touch buttons

to explain what they want or need:

Then I began to think...I have Corgis. They are smart. 

My girls would constantly be telling me they want a treat!

Do I want them to be telling me what they want? 

When they want?

NO! 

But...

What's the best way to have the dogs let me know

when they are ready to come inside?

I didn't want them scratching at the door.

And, if I wasn't in the room near the door, would I hear it?

Could I teach them to bark when they wanted to come in?

Okay...I don't want them to learn to touch buttons...

but what if I used a door bell?

I found a 'doggy door bell' on Amazon for around $30.

Then I found a wireless 'human' door bell for around $10. 

BINGO!

It only took a few days before the girls learned to 'touch' the doorbell pad.

I mounted the bell on the sill of the doors,

one for the front door and another for the back door (with a different "ring"). 

This has worked for us....

and our girls!

Oh, and for one of the guys working on our house!

He was enthralled by what the dogs would do, and if he had his arms full,

he'd touch their bell to let me know he needed help at the door!

Sabbath Mode

 Mr. A-I-nstein tells me that Sabbath is....

 a weekly day of rest and spiritual enrichment, lasting from Friday sunset to Saturday nightfall, rooted in the biblical creation story and the Ten Commandments. It is primarily observed in Judaism, focusing on ceasing work to spend time with family, praying, and resting. While traditional, some Christian groups observe it on Saturday, whereas most observe Sunday. 

Orthodox tradition ( in Judaism) prohibits the use of electronics and cooking over Sabbath. I am not Jewish....but I kinda like the concept! Apparently, my range decided we should practice Sabbath and it went on Sabbath mode last week. I came into the kitchen and the usual display was blank. I tried pushing buttons and nothing happened. I found the manual for my range, but it didn't address the situation. As we had purchased an additional warranty I called the provided number. The gal screening my call walked me through a few procedures. I had to flip the breaker off, wait a few minutes, flip the breaker back on again. (I had already tried that). She asked about Sabbath mode. I checked and could find no buttons for Sabbath mode. The woman arranged for a repair date and ordered parts. 

Last week the technician came by, ran a few tests, took the display panel off, and went to replace it with the new one that had arrived during the week. Unfortunately, that panel's wire connector did not match the one on our range. He left, the company ordered another part, and he returned a few days ago.

The technician returned. He asked that I flip the circuit breaker. He changed the display panel, and asked that I flip the circuit back on. As I walked toward the kitchen, after having turned the power back on, I heard a distinct, 'Uh, oh'! Apparently the screen was blank. After scratching his head he looked online, tried holding several buttons in unison. I looked over and saw a button for 'settings' and touched that. What popped up immediately? "Sabbath Mode ON". Somehow, our range had been put into Sabbath Mode...or decided on its own that it didn't want to be used, and the original issue I had was not an issue at all. Who knew?! Both the technician and I were a bit chagrinned. 

But, I kinda like the idea of following a Sabbath, in a secular way. I think it's refreshing to have a time without electronics and a time to focus on faith and family. 

A Little Bit of Pretty

Here's a little tribute for all moms:

I hope you all have a Happy Mother's Day!

 

When the Right Place Becomes the Wrong Place

When we moved to Colorado in 2007 I made the decision to become a Master Gardener so that I could better understand how and what to plant at my new home, whose climate, soil and sunlight were so very different from South Carolina where I had resided for 34 years. One of the first things that was emphasized was, "Right plant, right place!" 

But, what does one do when the right place suddenly becomes the wrong place for a particular plant?

We had several trees removed last year that were overhanging the house and were a threat in the event of a hurricane. It was amazing to see the difference in light that would make in the garden. Suddenly, the shaded garden bank became a sunny garden bank. Quite a few of the plants in that area were not happy and were obviously in the wrong place.

 These are Cast Iron plants. Although formerly green and lush, they are now exhibiting browning leaf tips, partly from our cold winter and partly from being burned by the sun, (The red plants are Cordyline, recently purchased to occupy their new 'right' place - they don't mind the sun.)

I have begun moving those plants to the right place, a corner in the garden that receives less direct sunlight and is more apt to have dappled shade. 

Cast Iron plants to not like having their roots disturbed, so they may not appreciate their move. I keep telling them it's for their own good. Time will tell! 

Oh, Deer....take two

Eight years ago, today, we were leaving Texas after visiting friends at Lake Medina.  I wrote this post about one of those once-on-a-lifetime experiences. I just had to share one of the "Wow!" moments of my life!

Oh, Deer!

We had a wonderful visit with our friends at Lake Medina. We had a full day and a half to talk, and talk, and talk some more. We had a long day ahead of us on the day we were leaving as the campgrounds in West Texas along I-10 become a bit sparse and we wanted to make it to Van Horn, TX. 

We got up at day break and set about our tasks. I took Tucker and Gypsy for their morning walk and tied them out at a tree. I felt badly for anyone trying to sleep along our chosen path because we bumped into small groups of deer on our walk, and of course Loud Mouth (Tucker) has to speak his piece to try to get the deer to move on. Oh, how he wished to run them off, and oh, how tempted was I to let him go! Dealing with a barking, lunging, 70-pound Aussie is trying. 

Anyway, back at the camper, we set about our tasks: I worked on getting breakfast and the Mister began dumping tanks and unhooking cable, water, and power. He came inside to say, "Uh oh! We have a problem." (Too bad we had moved beyond Houston or he could have used that in context for a change!) I followed him outside to the back of the camper. He gestured his hand in the general direction of the back wheel, and said, "Look." I looked for a water leak. It wasn't that. I looked for a broken fitting, I didn't see any. I looked at the tire, it wasn't flat. Do you see the problem?

And then, I saw it. There was a newborn fawn curled up on the gravel between the wheel and the stabilizing jack. An itty, bitty speckled, darling, still showing marks where momma had licked it clean! Oh, my! 

I went over to our friends, who are early risers, and told them that we had a problem and bring a camera. He, being slightly hard of hearing, went and got his hammer. He's got a great sense of humor so we could all laugh at that. They were equally stunned at what we had found. 

We worked as quietly as we could to ready the camper for our departure. We figured that as long as we didn't touch the fawn, the doe would return. I did share messages with a friend who is a wildlife rescue and rehab person, and she confirmed it would be alright for us to make an exit and leave the little guy on the gravel. 

Our friends took up watch at a distance and we received a message about 5 minutes after we left that mom had returned to take her little one. We all heaved a great sigh of relief.

I am fortunate that we all got to witness this miracle. It was a truly special morning!

Side note : Newborn fawns have no scent as a protection from predators. They instinctually lie perfectly still where their mother has gently pushed them down. When I walked the dogs I passed within a few feet of the fawn. When I tied the dogs their ropes would have let them get less than 8 feet from the fawn. They didn't have a clue!