Nana Knits and Jams

Being a Penn Stater

2012-01-23T05:39:00.000-08:00

I grew up as a Penn Stater, even before I officially was one. Both my grandfathers graduated from Penn State, both in Agriculture. Even thought Grandpa Herman earned his living selling insurance, he created huge gardens and cultivated fruit trees on his plot of land outside Pittsburgh. Papaw Hueston made his fortune in the Pittsburgh steel industry, retiring to Florida where he cared for a grove of orange, grapefruit, and tangelo trees in the fruit grove surrounding his Indian River home. Their Penn State degrees served them well. They both followed and rooted for the Nittany Lions until the days they died, Grandpa Herman considered Rip Engle the best coach ever. To him, Joe Paterno was a mere upstart. My dad too was a proud Penn State graduate, earning both his undergrad and graduate degree from Penn State.

I remember walking to Beaver Stadium from our South Pugh Street home while still in high school. I distinctly recall dressing up (yes, people used to dress up for football games!) in a blue, wide-whale corduroy suit, one with a very short skirt. Walking home on University Drive, two college students invited my friend and me to a fraternity party. We didn't go, but we were pretty impressed with ourselves and had a good story to tell at State HIgh the following Monday. Our whole Herman family bought season tickets to Penn State football in the 80's; eventually, Jim and I took those tickets over. Our children and many permutations of family and friends from south central to northeastern Pennsylvania have used those tickets to root on decades of Penn State football.

Jim and I met in the dishroom at the HUB the winter of 1970. The following fall, my shift covered the time of the Penn State football team's training table. Those were the years of Franco Harris and Lydell Mitchell. I watched them pass through the cafeteria line and cleaned their dinner trays. They were served steak, every night along with glass after glass of Penn State chocolate milk.

All our children have Penn State connections--Barbara and Robert both earned undergraduate degrees there, both graduating from the Schreyer Honors College. Later, Rob returned to earn his graduate degree from the College of Education, the same college where I earned mine. Matthew has worked for Penn State's athletic department for well over a decade now, washing towels and uniforms at both the Natatorium and the White Building. The Penn State Lion even came to his birthday party once! Penn State athletes have given him countless shirts, hats, and other Penn State Memorabilia. He possesses an official Penn State football jersey. If you have never seen one, they are actually rather odd, both in size and form.

Even our home, once owned by Rip Engle, the coach before Joe Paterno, has Penn State connections. When Joe first came here as an assistant coach to Rip Engle, he lived in our basement for a time. Now it is Jim's "Penn State room." Neighbors have suggested we nail a plaque on the side of home: "Joe Paterno slept here." Maybe we will.

We have so many Penn State stories as do thousands upon thousands of Penn Staters all across this country and this world. A signed, inscribed photo of Joe Paterno has hung in Matthew's bedroom since 1993, when it was given to him after he spent two weeks at Hershey Medical Center as the result of a tragic accident in his school's parking lot. It reads: "To Matt, We are thinking of you. Your friend, Joe Paterno." Joe knew something about having a child traumatically injured, and he and Sue have always been supportive of people with special needs. Jim and I have our own photo of us with JoePa, taken at Penn State Wilkes Barre years ago when we were all much younger.

Last night at the candlelight vigil in front of Old Main as the first strains of the Penn State Alma Mater wafted over the assembled crowd of students, alums, and members of the community, a very tall Penn State student standing in the cold on the snow alongside Jim, reached out his long arm to encircle my husband, a fellow (albeit much older) Penn Stater. Jim put his other arm around me and the whole crowd, linked arm by arm swayed and sang in fitting tribute to a man who dedicated his life to making Penn State a better place.

Rest in peace, Joseph Vincent Paterno...rest in peace, good and faithful servant.

Winter

2012-01-21T06:46:00.000-08:00

Winter is finally upon us. We had our first really significant snowfall yesterday, and the fluffy white sitting gently atop the green and brown surrounding our home is charming. Maybe it is because it is the slower time of winter, or maybe it is the clean slate of a new year, or maybe it is putting all the Christmas decorations away, but whatever bug plagues me also compelled me to clean out several closets this week, eventually delivering a backseat carload of things to Saint Vincent DePaul Thrift store. Even though I have more closets and an attic to conquest, the house feels a bit lighter. Good.

One of the closets most needing a good purge and reorganization was my knitting closest, the overflowing one tucked under the basement staircase. Now, all the worsted weight, bulky, decorative, and fingering weight yarns are nicely organized in easy-to-see and reach bags or baskets. In the midst of that, I found two skeins of bulky yarn leftover from a gray sweater I made for Alexis last year.

I found this pattern, tweaked it a bit to make it long enough to wrap and made myself a cowl, a free unexpected post Christmas gift to myself.

Inspiration

2012-01-17T05:54:00.000-08:00

I started this blog, gosh (!), three years ago, as a place to log my knitting and my thoughts. Knitting and the knitting blogs I was reading at the time ignited the spark creating this space. Lately, while I increasingly think about fabric and quilting, my knitting passion seems cooled. I have even considered adding to the title of my blog--something like “Nana Knits, Stitches, and Jams." But that feels a tad cumbersome and probably unnecessary. I just needed renewed inspiration; last week I got some.

I spent last week providing Nana/Nanny service for my littlest grandson as his mama returned to work. One of the days I was there, my daughter arranged common time between me and his newest babysitter so together we could help this little guy figure out time away from his mama. And this is how I met Tristin.

Tristin is a bright, articulate, interesting woman who knits. While Jamie took an almost unprecedented three hour nap, she and I sat together, knitting and talking. Tristin, a fascinating woman who paints, speaks Japanese, and knows sign language, expounded on her ideas of the importance of the work of our hands. She described to me how those convictions lead her to create "Hand to Hand Market" in downtown Greensboro, an event featuring “hip, handcrafted goods, underground art and vintage finds from some of the best regional artists, designers, crafters, and collectors this universe has to offer.” The listing of artists and their work is quite impressive.

As I knit yet one more bib for Jamie out of humble dishcloth yarn, Tristin worked on a cowl from a lovely skein of bulky yarn. She showed me her inspiration on an Etsy site. Later, I surfed the web for potential patterns to make myself something similar. That time with Tristin, time of dynamic conversation, exchanging of thoughts, and sharing personal stories, time to bath in the passion and conviction of a younger generation toward the deep legacy of the work our hands, and time to remind me why I love knitting with other women at my side, was exactly the spark I needed to fan the knitting embers. We travel best when we make this journey with others. Thank you, Tristin…

A Saturday in January

2012-01-07T14:07:00.000-08:00

As a novice at quilting, I learn more and more with each quilt I make, but what makes learning fun and ultimately more productive is to learn and practice alongside others. Bright and early this morning, I and four other women gathered to continue work on a common pattern, A Secrete Garden by Pat Sloan. Honestly, I would never have gone from patchwork to applique' so quickly were it not for our inspiring teacher and this small group, we her intrepid students, who would follow her anywhere. Five hours with beautiful fabrics, sewing machines that still amaze me at what they can do, and comfortable fellowship was an invigorating way to start the day. I still can't quite believe I am doing this--making a picture from pieces of fabric....

Then...on this highly unusual blue-sky January day, a day when a new era of Penn State football began with the naming of a new head coach (coach Bill O'Brien), Jim and I took a bike ride through campus to the stadium, pausing at the statue to pay our respects.

What a gift is a day like today.

Taking Time

2012-01-03T05:32:00.000-08:00

I have been retired (officially!) for almost half a year. My retirement date was June 10^th, the last day of the 2010-2011 school year; therefore, in one week it will be six months since I walked out of my classroom. Really hard to believe.

For six months, I allowed my world to shrink a bit, concentrating primarily on reflection, adjustment, and maintenance of the status quo: it's time to begin living larger. In 2012, I hope to:

Continue to learn new things.

Laugh and smile more freely and more often.
Streamline.

Stretch more boundaries and step beyond my comfort zone.

Find quiet space each day to be grateful and listen.

Spend more green time, outside in nature and in my home living in

responsible stewardship.

Write.

Pursue progress, not perfection.

"Make new friends but keep the old" (ah, that old Brownie song!).

Create.

Appreciate beauty.
Pick up the telephone and make a call.

Read closely, savoring the words on the page.

Move my body and challenge my mind.

Notice horizons, both old and new.

Show love.

Pray.

And always...strive to seek "the wisdom from above, that which is pure, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy." (James 3:17)

2011

2011-12-31T05:18:00.000-08:00

2011 concludes tonight and with it another year of life and the living of it, not only for us here in this quiet corner but for the larger collective humanity across the globe.

This year, we cheered and watched in respectful fascination the revolutionary zeal of the Arab Spring as it spread across the Middle East. This revolution of change, ushered in by the people who longed lived with dictators and despotism gave rise to the Occupy movement here in our own country, with the 99 percent calling attention to a dramatic inequality of distribution of wealth.

We also watched aghast and aggrieved by the images of Japan, rocked and swept away by the force of a catastrophic earthquake and tsunami. We lost the visionary Steve Jobs and the notorious Osama Bin Laden. We ended a decade of war in Iraq.

Here on this homefront, we rejoiced in a new home for one offspring and a new baby for another. I marked the end of five years of cancer treatment. We celebrated a career recognizing award for Jim and our 40^th wedding anniversary. In 2011, we also endured tests and trials, both small and large. Jim had shoulder surgery, and I wrestled some bouts with a too zealous heartbeat. Penn State was shaken to its core by scandal; while truth and justice remain elusive, the loss of innocence for the many who bleed blue and white still feels devastating.

We relished a trip to Hilton Head, Sunset Beach, time spent with family and friends, our evening bike rides, a spotting of a bear, a witnessing of a sunset, and the blessing of times of peaceful meditation and moments of unexpected joy

We welcomed baby James and baby Liam. We said hello to my retirement and goodbye to some dear friends—Eleanor, John, and Ed.

365 days of living, breathing, watching, praying, and participating in this journey we take by grace, step-by-step and day-by-day. Now we turn the page to a brand new year…

Christmas Gifts

2011-12-27T15:46:00.000-08:00

The house is emptied and just a bit too quiet. Alex's fold-up bed is bended up and tucked away. A pile of sheets is in a hamper and a pile of clean towels sits atop the dryer. The dining room table has shrunk by two leaves and the dishwasher has only run one time today. Sigh.

Last night we were nine around a table; now we are just two. Big sigh...

We received some wonderful gifts this holiday season, thoughtful presents picked out by those we love to show their love to us. But the best gift of all is just being together--telling stories, laughing, reading, watching a movie, riding bikes, building, cooking, eating, and sitting around in our pajamas at any and every time of day. Family.

After months of making things to gift, I can now post a few of them:

A hat and mittens using Paton wool and a Knitting Pure & Simple pattern.

A cowl using Blue Sky Organic Cotton and this pattern

And this quilt. My second one.

I hope your Christmas was just as warm and just as merry.

I just couldn't resist

2011-12-22T06:22:00.000-08:00

Just when I decided that I was at the "ready-for-Christmas" finish line, I happened upon this pattern and this lovely hand-dyed yarn. And there really was one more gift I could use. So I started knitting last night. I will finish it tonight and then, I am really am ready for Christmas, after I clean the bathrooms, add leaves to the table, retrieve the high chair and fold away beds from the attic...

Tomorrow, our family begins to arrive, and Christmas festivities commence. Peace.

One more week

2011-12-17T14:39:00.000-08:00

…until Christmas Eve. And I am getting ready. I have adored the mantle...

delivered some handmade gifts to friends and neighbors...

wrapped some presents...

made some cookies, fudge, and party mix…

enjoyed good times with friends...

and finally, trimmed our tree this afternoon.

Now, it is time to breathe deeply, sit down, slow down, savor the season, lovingly welcome my family home, and settle my heart and mind on true miracle of this season—the Incarnation, Word become flesh, a baby born in a stable to save us all…

Ruby Anniversary

2011-12-10T05:52:00.000-08:00

December 11, 1971: 40 years ago…what did we know, other than we wanted to be together, all the time. In retrospect, it seemed so foolhardy; in retrospect; it was so wise.

I was 19 (just) and he was 21 (barely). He was a senior at Penn State and I a sophomore. We had no money and no jobs, other than part time work. We had no plans for the future, except to finish school and make the monthly rent of $85 on our second-floor, Nittany Avenue apartment.

Our wedding day was an unusually lovely, balmy December day. I remember walking into town to buy a black shoulder bag for our honeymoon; Jim washed his ’65 Mustang.

The ceremony was held at the Helen Eakin Eisenhower Chapel on the campus of Penn State at 7:00 in the evening. I carried white roses and holly. Jim’s grandfather, John Henry Frizzell, chaplain emeritus and founder of the speech department at Penn State, wrote a prayer for us. A simple reception followed in the Fireside Room at the Nittany Lion Inn. Tea sandwiches, cake, ice cream, and punch were served, with a piano player providing background music.

We left that night and drove to Lewistown for a what we thought would be two-day honeymoon/Christmas shopping trip to Harrisburg . The next day we ran into Jim’s brother Rob and our sister-in-law, eating breakfast at Zimmie’s Diner, and they persuaded us to go to the King of Prussia Mall instead. So we did.

40 years later, I would do it all over again, exactly the same way. This naïve, young couple added three children—two incredible sons and an amazing daughter. Later, another good and gentle son-in-law and a beautiful and bright daughter-in-law joined this clan Campbell. And then came our two adored and beloved grandsons. Together we built a family, careers, a home…a life.

Our life together hasn’t been perfect but it has been good and it has been blessed. Experiencing our share of sorrows and disappointment, we too have been showered with uncanny amounts of joy and wonder. Together with our devoted family and our cherished friends we have built a rich history of faith and love. Tomorrow, we celebrate it all, with joyful and grateful hearts.

A Sweet Little Hat

2011-12-06T05:49:00.000-08:00

After my mother died, my father arrived on my doorstep one day with her knitting bag in tow. "I thought you might want this," he said. I did. It is really wonderful to have her knitting and sewing "tools," and I use them often and with great pleasure. One of the things I found in that bag was a little, now vintage, knitting book of "quick things to make." It cost all of 35¢ to buy. Gosh, what does 35¢ buy you now?

I really began knitting agin in earnest when Barbara was pregnant with Alexander, and one of things I made him was a little yellow simple seed stitch hat from this book. I just made one for his brother in red. It is such a quick easy and darling patter that I thought I would it share it with the modifications I made:

Simple Seed Stitch Baby Hat

Size: 6 months to 1 year

Yarn: 1 skein DK weight yarn

Needle size: No. 4 double points

Gauge: 7 stitches.= 1 inch

Cast on 85 stitches and arrange on 4 double point needles. Join, being careful not to twist. Work in K1, P1 ribbing for 1 1/2 inches. *Work 8 rows stockinette. Work 8 rows seed stitch. Repeat from *twice, cut yarn leaving about a 10 inch length. Thread into needle and draw yarn through all stitches. Fasten and weave in end. You may, if you wish, turn ribbing to the inside of hat and sew it into position. Or, you may, as I do, simply turn it up, allowing for a longer hat. Trim top of hat as desired (pom pom or tassel).

These really are so sweet, especially adorning such a sweet little head!

Advent

2011-12-02T04:22:00.000-08:00

"The voice of one that crieth, Prepare ye in the wilderness the way of Jehovah;

make level in the desert a highway for our God."

Isaiah 40:3

It is the season of Advent, a time of expectant waiting and preparation….

Our contemporary culture is not a patient one. We operate quickly and instantly in our digital world, expecting immediate answers and rapid results. But often, things simply require time, and then we must wait and listen and watch for a revealing.

Sunday marked the first Sunday in Advent. Monday, I cleared away the reminders of Thanksgiving, putting away the autumnal tones painting our home and beginning anew this season of waiting.

Part of the preparation for us 21^st century pilgrims is the “getting ready for Christmas.” I am not a Black Friday shopper and didn't partake of Cyber Monday, but I did make a trip to JoAnn Fabrics on Wednesday to buy some fabric, and there I happened upon four aisles of Christmas trappings marked 50% off. Advent has just begun and already there are Christmas sales! We really can’t wait well, can we?

I have been slowly making some gifts for the many people we care about. My latest projects are quilted potholders based on this pattern. It has been fun, gathering scraps of fabric, piecing them together and stitching them up.

My sincere hope is that I might walk carefully and mindfully through this bustling season, quietly coming to a more intimate understanding of the incarnation, this word become flesh, this birth of a baby in a manager so long ago. And may it be so for us all.

Polishing memory

2011-11-22T15:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, the Thanksgiving countdown began in earnest. Recipes spread out beside me, I crafted the holiday menu, simultaneously creating a shopping and a "to-do" list, so that turkey day (and the days after!) might find me prepared and ready. Today's major tasks included (after breakfast with Barabara and Ralph) shopping and polishing the silver.

Section by section, I clean out the top drawer of my mother's server, heaping its silver contents on the sink next to the pile of soft rags and polish. And then, I begin--rubbing the tarnish away, fork by fork and spoon by spoon. I don’t know why I dread this silverware chore so much, but I do. Until I begin. Invariably, once I dip the cloth in the paste, the rote and repetitive nature of this mundane job takes me back to places and people I cherish.

Jumbled together are pieces of mine, my mother's and both my grandmothers. It is somewhat ironic that I never asked for nor desired sterling silver flatware. After all, I was a mere 19 years old, a college student, and a bit of a dreamer when I upset the apple cart to marry during the trimester break. A seamstress family friend sewed my simple wedding dress. We didn't have a registry, a fancy reception, or really any of the hoopla of today's weddings. Add to these untraditional nuptials an unplanned pregnancy two months into our young marriage and a drawer of sterling silver was the last thing on my mind.

In August of our honeymoon year, at eight months pregnant I vividly remember sitting in my mother's kitchen when the phone call came telling her that her brother Bobby, my favorite Uncle Bob, was dead. She was so shocked to hear these words, she barely spoke to the woman telling her (my Nana's best friend) before she replaced the phone on the hook. Almost immediately after she told me Uncle Bob had died, she said, "I don't even know what happened." She had to call back It was an automobile accident; he never stood a chance in his VW Beetle. My mom and dad almost immediately sold the only cool car we had, our own beloved Bug. My brother and I completely understood.

About three months later with a new baby in tow, Mom dragged me down to Crabtrees, a hometown, family-owned jewelry store. She had inherited some money from her brother, and she wanted me to pick out a silver pattern. This was to be a lasting gift to me from Uncle Bob. I thought it totally unnecessary and frankly, a bit weird. But I did it entirely to please her, selecting seven place settings of a simple pattern of straight lines and smooth surfaces. She had an old English "C" engraved on the handles.

I have forever been grateful for her foresight. I am not overly sentimental about stuff, except for the dishes, china, crystal, and silver passed down to me from the women in my family. I am who I am today in large part because of those who have gone before me. My mother, my Grandma Herman, and my Nana Hueston taught me much about being a mother, a woman, a teacher, a grandmother, and a caring contributor to society. Setting a feast table becomes a reverent act, with soft images and memories of my mother, my Nana, and my grandmother enfolding me. I imagine them smiling down their approval as new generations eat from their dishes, use their utensils, and dine on a table lined with linens that once were theirs. They and their traditions live on...and for that heritage, among so many other good things, I give thanks.

Antigone

2011-11-19T03:54:00.000-08:00

There is one thing, and one thing only,

That makes a human life successful.

It is not wealth.

It is not power.

It is wisdom that brings us joy.

Wisdom is the key to life.

Put others above self.

Respect the laws of gods and men.

Be not too proud, or the gods will bring you pain and suffering.

Some find wisdom before they are destroyed for their mistakes,

yet others only find it after being broken.

Sometimes, in old age, after great pain,

men find wisdom.

-the Chorus, Antigone

Two nights ago we sat in a high school auditorium watching a production of Sophocles' classic tragedy Antigone. The story of a king destroyed by his own pride and power has much to say to a modern audience, and these young thespians delivered a compelling, tight, and riveting performance.

What made the night even more special for us was that Robert directed this show, adapting the script from multiple public domain versions, casting a talented group of high school students, connecting these players to a text they so obviously internalized, and pulling a performance from them that made this ancient story contemporary and relevant.

I am in awe of my son… as a teacher, an artist, and a man. I am glad he finds important stories to tell, and I am proud that he chooses to invite young men and women into the art of telling them.

his gaze

2011-11-17T04:07:00.000-08:00

he rests on his back

the world condensed

to what appears before him

he studies his moving hand

a glowing light, the swirling fan

a dancing bear, his laughing brother

he finds joy in each face

courting his gaze, eyes locked,

voice gurgling, cooing delight

he explores space with stretching limbs

twisting body, grasping fingers

touching the air

he abandons time,

freed to greet each moment

with utter expectation

Baking Pumpkin Cookies

2011-11-10T19:59:00.000-08:00

The news in my hometown is unbearably heavy right now. There is nothing to say that has not been written, reported, tweeted, dissected, blogged, or talked about over and over and over again. And none of it is good--the story is too horrific to comprehend or understand. We here in a once happy valley are still Penn State, but our hearts are broken and our souls are sickened.

This morning, after a fitful night of light sleep, an early cup of coffee, and a cursory glance at the newspaper (a rehash of late night ESPN reports), I decided to bake. Following a spattered recipe, I assembled ingredients and started stirring together pumpkin cookies, a seasonal favorite family sweet. I thought this recipe may fill better this space than the lament I feel, so here it is--an oldie goodie:

Pumpkin Cookies

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon. salt
1 cup shortening
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 cup pumpkin
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup chopped nuts (or raisins)

Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt. Set aside.

Cream shortening and sugar. Add pumpkin and egg. Beat well. Add sifted flour mixture. Stir. Add vanilla and nuts. Drop by generous teaspoonful on greased (or parchment covered) baking sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 12-15 minutes. Cool.

Frosting

3 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons milk
3/4 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup powdered sugar sifted

Combine butter, milk, and brown sugar in saucepan. Heat to boiling. Boil 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Cool slightly, stir in powdered sugar and vanilla. Immediately frost cookies.

And then...sit quietly with a couple cookies, a cup of tea, and while you do, please say a prayer to end all forms of abuse, sending one up especially for all those children who are not protected when they should be.

In the Low Country

2011-11-05T15:58:00.000-07:00

“I stood face to face with the moon and the ocean and the future that spread out with all its bewildering immensity before me.”

--Pat Conroy

We just returned from spending this past week with my brother and sister-in-law in the Low Country of South Carolina. The sun shined every day, the skies radiated bright blue, the lush vegetation carpeted the landscape, and the waters rippled in and around the islands. We boated to Daufuskie Island, the site of the school where Pat Conroy penned The Water is Wide. A retired vet (as in veterinarian) piloted us through the marshes and lagoons surrounding Hilton Head, while my brother, the photographer, shot amazing film of birds in flight. We rode bicycles, watched birds, climbed a lighthouse at dusk, and ate enough seafood to satisfy the hunger.

It was a wonderful week, this first week of November.

My sons

2011-10-30T14:42:00.000-07:00

Both of my sons were home together this weekend, a rare and sweet treat. Rob and his father share a love of and season tickets for Penn State football, and that is often the reason for Harrisburg Campbell fall travel to State College. Friday the weather report was calling for a historic October snow storm, and we all agreed that a trip in the middle of it simply was not a prudent decision. But early Saturday, the flakes hadn't even begun, and Rob decided if he left early he might just beat the storm. So come ahead he did, arriving in good time on for the most part decent roads. It was so good to have him here...

I spent a good part of the day Saturday sewing up costumes and costume adornments for the fall MASH production of "Antigone" Rob is directing while two of three boys (Jim included) bundled up and trudged off to a snowy, messy and less-than-pretty Penn State win. Our power stayed on, I made an apple pie, we were warm, JoPa had his 409th win, and we were here together safely. A wonderful weekend....

The costumes don't look like much on the hangers; it's a Greek thing, I guess.

Color

2011-10-26T04:32:00.000-07:00

The colors of fall are disappointing this year. All the rain diluted the brilliance of a changing season, and a look out the back window reveals foliage resembling more a lackluster end of summer than an almost Halloween. I miss the flaming reds, the blazing yellows, and the burning oranges that so often set the spirits afire in October.

In my quilting class on Saturday, our teacher talked to us about color. While we laid out our project pieces, she spoke about "value," the lightness or darkness of hue, in color. An interesting quilt will most likely contain fabrics representing a range of values from light, to medium, to dark. No wonder picking fabric is challenging for me. Not only should I seek compliment and variety in pattern, but I also ought consider harmony and hue of color. I understand more fully what my daughter and son-in-law, both artists, mean when they speak of color theory.

And I also realize why I question the choices I sometimes make in fabrics... like this one, a table runner I just finished.

While it is certainly filled with fall colors, when it all came together I regretted the fabric choices I made. I wasn't sure why until Saturday when Deb described the importance of value. She told us one way to check value in our piecing is to turn the picture into black and white and see the contrast.

So I did and I see what I might have done differently--change the tan in the four-patch or change the intensity of the orange. Obviously, I am still learning...

The notion of value in color made me think about my own life and the interplay of light and shadow within. I tend to be on the serious side, with my spirit life resembling these pieces I patched together. I need to swap in some lighter hues for the more somber ones. Smile more, laugh more, whistle, sing, skip, and delight more. By simply holding life more lightly, I ought to create a more pleasing pattern for all to enjoy.

Beginning to think Christmas

2011-10-21T15:36:00.000-07:00

This week held one delightful day of putzing, time to dally around the house, cooking, cleaning a bit, straightening up, and arranging autumnal adornments. I love those days of easy freedom; believe me, the luxury of doing that at my leisure is certainly not lost on me.

Even though fall is just now in full swing, I have been thinking a bit about Christmas. I have two gifts already knit, folded up and stashed in my knitting closet, awaiting blocking. I also have a few gifts bought and tucked away in cubbies and chests. In addition, one knitting gift is on the needles and one sewing gift was begun Saturday during my second quilting class. I am learning how to use triangles!

I like making things to give to people I love and care about. I think on those faces and those people during the making, and that for me is the best part of gifting.

The older I grow and the longer I live the less having and getting stuff appeals to me. For the most part, I think in our country we have more than enough to use, manage, and organize, so heaps of presents under the tree is not what I aspire to create. Truly, the story and reality of the incarnation, the intentional gathering together of the people I love, the family traditions, the quiet beauty of the season, and the passage of time each successive Christmas marks are the things I cherish. May it be thus for all of us this year...

Cleaning

2011-10-12T13:26:00.000-07:00

Twenty something years ago as teacher with three children to grow and a big old (circa 1815) house to clean and keep in order, I pleaded with my husband to consider adding the expense of a biweekly house cleaning service to our budget. He agreed, and for well over two decades, from September to June, I have not really thought a lot about keeping the kitchen floor mopped or the bathrooms scrubbed; it has just "magically" happened. Last week we cancelled our cleaning ladies because of a week spent in North Carolina, so that means, this week I am doing the cleaning. Thus far, I have conquered the top two floors of our house. I have scoured the tub, sucked cobwebs from ceiling cracks, dusted vases, washed plants, gotten down on my hands and knees to wipe the bathroom and kitchen floors, and even moved furniture to confront dust bunnies hiding behind.

Cleaning more deeply than we pay others to do for us, I am surprised that it feels kinda right. My mother was a meticulous housekeeper and cleaner. So is my sister-in-law. I never got that gene nor obtained it by osmosis. But at almost 60, I finally think I know what clean and orderly looks like, and I have a semblance of how to get there. Now that I have the time to actually do it, it feels as if I am getting reacquainted with my home...day-by-day and room-by-room.

When it became known that I intended to retire, I received advice from other retirees. Mostly it was to go away in September when the busses roll, and not to commit to anything for a full year. With probably a certain sense of hubris, I started off retirement ignoring the first suggestion, coming to regret it as September waned. As I neared retirement, I scanned our church newsletter and volunteer opportunities mentioned in other newsletter, planning the groups I might join and the causes I might champion when I was freed from the bells of school. I even made promises and started off September scribbling things to do into my calendar....

Now well into October, I am starting to see this retirement thing a bit differently and beginning to understand the wisdom of the year hiatus from commitments. Maybe it is decades of bells and rigid schedules of where I am to be and who I am to be with, but I really am not ready to solidly commit to much other than my yoga class and a few mornings of working out. Getting my body in shape and my house in order is helping oddly to reshape a shifted universe. I will work on the soul and spirit after some more time passes....

My mother (gone 11 years and I still miss her so..), sitting at our kitchen table in our old house in Huntsville (in front of those curtains I once sewed). Yes..I know, posting this photo (and probably writing this post) is total self indulgence.

While Making Curtains

2011-09-29T04:55:00.000-07:00

Monday night at a charity dinner, a table mate posed the question I am asked frequently of late, “So, what are you doing with all your time?”

That answer came easily: "I am making curtains.”

My little black sewing machine has been humming this week, stitching window coverings for our sweet baby Jamie’s nursery. The last curtains I recall sewing were for Barbara’s kitchen in her newlywed apartment in the historic Bellefonte Laundry building. Those same versatile curtains now hang in Alexander’s bedroom.

I remember making curtains for our first home on Lyndhurst Road in York. We remodeled the kitchen of the 1922 red-brick, semi-detached, two-story house in a tree-lined section of East York, not so dissimilar to where we live now. A stay-at-home mom with three young children and a need to make our one paycheck stretch for the entire month, I did a lot of things to save money. I learned to can and freeze fruit and vegetables from the amazingly prolific postage-stamp-size garden in our back yard and from the abundant pick-it-yourself York County farm opportunities

I baked bread, participated in a great network of hand-me-down clothes swaps for my children, and clipped coupons. I painted walls, refinished furniture, and learned to hang wallpaper. I cut my children’s hair. I stitched Halloween costumes and Christmas outfits and I made as many Christmas presents as I could conjure to make. There was a strong economic reason that The Living More With Less Cookbook was well used in our home.

That same financial reality was oh-so-clear when Barbara and I were pricing blinds for the baby’s room. The tally of the cost to cover the windows and shutter a closet was a bit staggering. “I could make you curtains for so much less, “ I confessed, adding “and I have the time to do it.”

The most difficult part was selecting fabric from afar but with the magic of the internet, we finally found a print (David Walker’s “All Over Dinos” ) in ample yardage at a price that didn’t break the bank. Even though sewing rod curtains is pretty straightforward and simple, I found great general directions here.

With three valances made, the closet curtains complete, only two sets of half curtains remain to be sewn before the batch is ready for delivery, and I get to hold my newest, now smiling, grandson. It will be a pleasure to see these red curtains hanging in his room.

While guiding yards and yards of fabric through the sewing machine's feed, I pondered this circularity of life “before work”and “after work.” Years of employment and saving provide us with a financial security we didn’t have during those lean times of establishing our home and raising our children. And yet now, amidst considerations of sustainability, leaving a smaller footprint, and living green, it seems important to rethink the amount of things we buy and to reconsider the types of the things we do. Our nation, in particular, has developed (Really? Are we?) into a portion of this globe consuming a vast percentage of its resources. And I, along with so many others, question our moral responsibility as a stewards of this world, a world God has created to be enjoyed by all His children. If we are to live lives reflecting God's glory and intention, we who have so much should seek to live with less, so those who need it most have enough.

P.S. And here are the new curtain in the baby's room, along with Nana and Jamie, napping. Bliss.

Autumn

2011-09-26T04:26:00.000-07:00

Autumn nudges her way into September.

We had a house full of family this past weekend, and the flavors of the weekend were testament to the newly arrived season. While our son and his dad checked out the new football seats in Beaver Stadium and cheered Penn State onto a victory, my brother, sister-in-law and I strolled through the Arboretum at Penn State, reveling in Fall's bounty displayed there.

At home, my table reflected that changing season, with apples, pie, and these blueberry scones appearing on the menu.

But really, the very best thing that happened this month was seeing my husband receive a well deserved honor, the Penn State Outreach Pioneer Award, only the third bestowed. Pretty cool, I think!

Paying Attention

2011-09-15T04:20:00.000-07:00

Last week, it rained and rained and rained...every day for over a week...

Constant grey skies and gloom pushed us into our houses and the threat and reality of flooding for friends and family in Pennsylvania added gravitas to each weather report. At dusk one evening, returning home from an errand, I glanced down the side path and noticed the hostas were blooming. In the midst of days of clouds and lack of sun, these plants sent up shots and blossomed. And I hadn't even noticed until they were in their full glory. Obviously, I wasn't paying attention.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about paying attention.

My daughter referred me to a writer, Lisa Russ Spaar who observed in her interview printed in the online Image Journal that her "current project is always to pay attention." My yoga teacher yesterday, after instructing us to pay attention to our breathing, commented that "paying attention leads to transformation." And transformation right now is what I am seeking, as I shift from one stage of life to another.

It occured to me that my old ways of organizing my life, my weekly agenda, my clipboard, my desk, my bulletin board, my computer, were either obsolete or ineffective for a life of retirement. So therefore, how do I make visible sense of what I am doing and who I am right now?

I decided to return to a discipline that served me well before a computer superseded. I started a writer's notebook/journal...again. I want a place to write, collect, muse, wonder, question, observe and organize the dailiness of my life.

Before we began to write online, I had my students keep spiral-bound notebooks they decorated with images and words holding meaning for them. Housed in an old filing cabinet in our basement is a stack of writer's notebooks I kept right along with my students. Their covers are filled with a few photos of family, images clipped from magazines, and quotes excerpted because they spoke to me. Since I have been piecing and sewing lately, I decided to make a cover for the composition book I now use; then I proceeded to make a few more. A patchwork cover for the book helping me piece together life right now seems fitting.

Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote, "What you look hard at seems to look hard at you." I intend to try to look harder, ponder longer, breath deeper, move farther from the screen, sit up straight, read more slowly, and push my thinking in new and different directions. And hopefully, transformation will begin.

Socking It

2011-09-07T05:17:00.000-07:00

I've been making socks lately. After modeling some socks I made my son this past Spring, my husband told me he would like some as well (he doesn't often request a knitted item). So he got some for his birthday in August, maroon ones knit from the top down, using this yarn and pretty much knit right under his nose while we watched television at night. I used the Iowa Crew/Cruise Socks pattern, a well used pattern, from Cottage Creations. I love all their patterns which are so easy to use and fun to read.

Then came Alexis' birthday. I made her these with this yarn, knitting from the toe up. I fashioned the cuff with a broken basket-weave stitch to make it a bit more interesting to knit.

And before I put away the #2 double points, I decided to use a ball of sock yarn I had in my stash to make myself a new pair of socks for the upcoming sock-wearing season. I love the self-striping pattern of this yarn. Sock knitting is out of my system and off the needles for a while!

Practicing

2011-08-31T05:48:00.000-07:00

When Alexander was here this summer, we helped him learn how to ride his two wheeler without training wheels. That blessed event took three days of falls, wobbles, false starts, frustration, and tears before success occurred. It was hard to watch. Each day, Alex would say to me, "I want to practice riding my bike," and each day we would go out on the sidewalk, review the guidelines of successful bike riding, and go at it. Finally, that magical moment occurred when Alex and the bike took off without my fingers stabilizing the seat. And oh, the thrill and the joy of it all, not only for Alex but for his proud Nana and Grandad too.

I've been thinking a lot about practicing lately.

Knitting has taught me that getting better necessitates doing it over and over and over again. So it only made sense that after making my first baby quilt, I needed another quilting project. I am not yet confident enough to branch out into new patterns so I decided to make the same pattern, London Crossroads, and scale it down into a table runner. Practice ensued.

First came cutting.

Believe it or not cutting, for me, has not been as easy at it seems. Using a quilting ruler and rotary cutter are skills that require a certain vigilance. I learned the hard way when I reversed my ruler away from the 1/2 inch side, and I cut a whole set of 2 inch strips, rather than 2 1/2 and 3 inch strips rather than 3 1/2. Back to the fabric store with the adage, "Measure twice, cut once" (in my father's voice) resounding in my mind.

I worked on even seam stitching. In my first quilting class, our instructor had us practice stitching 1/4 inch seams before we began piecing our quilts. At that time I didn't fully appreciate the necessity for exactness in seam width, but that became utterly clear when we began putting our blocks together and matching points.

Quilting is so exact and each piece of it contributes to the whole. Even pressing has rules which guide setting the seam and the way the seam is pressed. All of this requires concentrated thought, since for me the art of quilting is far from automatic.

I layered the backing, batting, and pieced top and then pinned the sandwich all together. And now I start quilting, trying to remember how to bring my thread to the top and very carefully "stitching in the ditch" to quilt this piece. I deliberately reread instructions and slowly proceed.

My life right now imitates the practice I attempt.

Yesterday, I held conversation with a young woman who followed up her did-I-work question with a what-do-you-do query. I paused, seeking words to define what "retired" means for my life. I told her that I was still learning how to be retired. It feels like spending more time with family, intensifying volunteer time at church and with Strawberry Fields. Reading more, exercising more, pausing more, and breathing more slowly and deeply. I stammered a bit, then changed the subject. I really don't know yet fully how to do this, because, you see, I am still practicing.

Yesterday

2011-08-24T04:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, for the first time in over two decades, school began without me. I really am a retiree, aren't I?

I spent the day putzing around the house, stopping off to deliver a baby blanket, pulling together little plant gifts for a few desks of my teacher friends, and taking my first gentle yoga class. At the dimming of the day, Jim and I pedaled through the Penn State campus, the setting sun painting the sky and lilting brass notes from the Blue Band offering soft ambience. It was all good....

This is the blanket I delivered. I don't often post a pattern, but from time to time it feels right, especially if it is such an easy yet basic one. This Basket Weave Baby Blanket never disappoints. I used Berroco Comfort Yarn (isn't that the perfect name for yarn used in a baby blanket?), a soft, worsted weight yarn that is rapidly becoming my go-to yarn for baby projects. And here's the pattern:

Simple Basket-Weave Baby Blanket

Yarn needed: 5 skeins (2 oz. each) worsted weight yarn
1 size 8 circular needle, 24 inches long

1. Cast on 105 stitches.

2. Row 1-6: Work in seed stitch.

3. Row 7: Work first 5 stitches in seed stitch starting with a knit stitch and ending with a knit stitch. Then, work across the row in knit 5 purl 5 pattern until there are 5 stitches remaining. Again, work the last 5 stitches in seed stitch, beginning with knit 1.

4. Row 8: Work the first 5 stitches in seed stitch. Then work across the row in purl 5 knit 5 pattern until there are 5 stitches left. Work the remaining stitches in seed stitch.

5. Row 9 through 14: Repeat rows 7 and 8 three more times, for a total of 8 rows in the pattern. You should see the basket-weave pattern begin to take shape.

6. Row 15: Work the first 5 stitches in seed stitch. Then work across the row in purl 5, knit 5 pattern until there are 5 stitches left. Work the remaining stitches in seed stitch.

7. Row 16: Work the first 5 stitches in seed stitch. Then work across the row in knit 5, purl 5 pattern until there are 5 stitches left. Work the remaining stitches in seed stitch.

8. Repeat rows 15 and 16 three more times for a total of 8 rows in the pattern.

9. Continue the pattern repeating steps 3 through 8 until the blanket measures 32 inches.

Work 6 rows in seed stitch.

Bind off. Weave in and trim loose ends. Block if desired.

Two Weeks

2011-08-16T04:51:00.000-07:00

Each summer, we host our grandson for a week we call "Camp Alexander." This year's Camp Alexander was sandwiched into a two-week period surrounding the birth of Alex's new baby brother. It was a very full and very busy two weeks. And while both Grandad and Nana were plum tuckered by its end, memories were made...

We built Hot Wheels tracks all over the lower level. We took a day to go over the mountain and into Rothrock State Forest to visit our friend Jackie and her cat room at Stone Valley Pet Lodge, check out the raptors at Shaver's Creek, and take a cold swim in Whipples Dam. We spent one sunny afternoon wading at Spring Creek Park and the second sunny day of the week at DelGrosso Amusement Park in Tipton. Alex taught me how to play Angry Birds on my iPad, and we taught him how to ride his bike sans training wheels (conceivably the highlight of the week for us all). We had shakes at Baby's, saw the Smurfs in a movie theater, and played on the slides at Sunset Park. At the end of the week, Alex and I flew home to his newly expanded family where he lovingly assumed his new role as big brother.

madonna

2011-08-08T05:34:00.000-07:00

Our daughter with our new grandson, James Timothy Thomas born at 4:19AM on Tuesday, August 2, weighing 8 lbs. 12 oz. and measuring 21 inches. True beauty, both of them.

New

2011-07-27T05:22:00.000-07:00

Two family milestones mark this month--a new home for our son and his wife and a new baby for our daughter's family. Pretty thrilling all around.

Two weekends ago signaled the big move for Rob and Alexis. The U-Haul began its journey at our house, loaded up with furniture passed along from our house to theirs. A hefty and hardy moving crew of family and friends spent two days shifting furniture and belongings from the Harrisburg apartment to the Harrisburg home, a charming, brick two-story in a tree-lined neighborhood that reminds Jim and me of our own.

Now the transformation from house to home begins as Rob and Alexis order, arrange, and discover how to live in this new space of their lives. Over these past few weeks, my mind has revisited the three houses that have provided home to our family. We learned so much about being homeowners and about living within all those walls. What stories will now be written within these...

And now we wait for the next big change, the birth of our second grandchild, a second grandson. All is ready, both for us and for his mama. Her suitcase is packed and ours sits on a bed upstairs. We have several meals frozen in our freezer to be transferred to hers. The quilt is wrapped and ready to go. All we need now is a phone call telling us it is time, and we will make the trek south to greet with joy the newest member of our family.

In the meantime, I am knitting sweaters...several baby sweaters. One for little James, one for a colleague who recently adopted daughter number two, and one more for a layette kit for Lutheran World Relief. This cute pattern, the "Easy Baby Cardigan" is found in More Last Minute Knitted Gifts. Making these little sweaters has helped me pass the time while waiting, never really an easy task.

Quilting (part II)

2011-07-19T09:10:00.000-07:00

in the unknown world

the woman

threading together her need

and her needle

nods toward the smiling girl

remember

this will keep us warm.

-lucille clifton, from quilting

The quilt for Jamie is finished. Now, we simply await his arrival.

I am pleased with the final product—a colorful, happy blanket, intended to be used, wrapped, crumpled, soiled, and washed, over and over again. I hope this pieced quilt will become a well loved prop in the unfolding life of this our newest grandson as he explores the world around him.

It delights me that this trusty, little Singer Featherweight machine rumbled alongside me as I stitched this together. This little machine, made in 1955 (which I discovered by matching a serial number to a Featherweight website) and highly prized by quilters, was the same sewing machine on which my mother taught me to sew. Early in my married years, Mom bequeathed it to me, and this machine stitched together curtains for three homes, Halloween costumes and Christmas outfits for three children, and even made that little yellow baby quilt in the previous post.

While it is a champ at piecing (the stitching together of all the blocks for the top), it is not ideal for machine quilting (the sewing together of all the layers of the quilt—top, batting, border, and back), because even though it is a heck of a workhorse, its size does not easily accommodate yards of fabric and batting. The weight and bulk of it all is often too much for a little Featherweight. But I muddled through alright, this tepid adverb aptly describing my thoughts on the experience. My quilting is okay, acceptable for my first crack at it, but my craftwomanship is far from good. I have lines that zip and wander from the straight diagonals they are supposed to be. In an email to my teacher last week, I opined:

While I realize that I have miles to go before I can really attach the word quilter to my name, I am not displeased (despite my grumbling yesterday) with this sweet little quilt I am making for James. I toyed with the idea of ripping out some of my meandering lines, but decided to keep them in, as a benchmark to future progress and a story to share with my grandchildren about the sometimes frustrating process of learning something new.

It is good for this freshly retired teacher to be reminded that the process of learning is two-sided, a duel presentation of the vexation of a venture into unfamiliar territory concomitant with the pleasure of new discovery.

Today I sew an embroidered label on the back. And within the next few weeks, in my grandson’s own right time, I will present this quilt to my daughter to swaddle a new life, her youngest son, within its folds.

Quilting

2011-07-10T05:40:00.000-07:00

somewhere in the unknown world

a yellow eyed woman

sits with her daughter

quilting.
-from "quilting" by lucille clifton

I have always been drawn to quilts, intrigued by the womanly art of them, appreciative of resourcefulness of the craft, and respectful of the warmth of their beautiful practicality. Quilts carry family history in fabrics cut from old garments and in stitches sewn by mothers or grandmothers or aunts or sisters or friends. I cherish quilts passed along from women in my life--two from my family and one from several circles of friends who hand pieced a quilt presented to me when our family moved away; I love that quilt...

Thirty six years ago, I even made a little quilt myself. It was for a new baby (our Barbara), assembled with leftover gingham from a bassinet skirt I made. Using cardboard as a template, I cut out squares, stitched them together, backed it with some yellow fabric, fashioned a ruffled border, and then knotted it. It is amateurish in design and construction, but that quilt was used for two Campbell babies (Rob as well) and was pulled out for our first grandchild Alexander. It still washes up well.

One of my retirement goals was to make a quilt. I am not sure I was even all that serious about it; however, in a moment of impulse in June, I signed up to take a quilting class at our local yarn store, Stitch Your Art Out. The class was listed for beginners, the project was a small quilt (perfect for a baby quilt), and the instructor was Deb Kerr, a fellow State High faculty member who I admire both as a teacher and quilter. I just finished the first two classes this week, and I am hooked.

Each step of this new adventure has been enjoyable and gratifying.

Picking out the fabric was made easier since I knew I wanted the quilt to complement the blanket I knit for baby James. I find it liberating that this new generation of mamas no longer adheres to traditional baby colorways, so I felt free to go colorfully wild in choosing fabric and colors.

Sewing machine, fabric, and recommended tools in tow, I climbed the shop stairs last week to begin my class. Sitting with three other women, I spent a stimulating afternoon learning about rotary cutting, quilting rulers, 1/4 inch stitching (I am thrilled with my trusty old Singer Featherweight for this!), and grey thread. It is a new lexicon for this knitter.

In two afternoons, we cut, pieced, and began to sew it all together. This morning I finished stitching together the top of the quilt. Learning something new and stretching my mind in different directions has been a stimulating first step into retirement. It has been a good week....

Happy 4th of July

2011-07-04T09:43:00.000-07:00

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are

Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, July 4, 1776

Every 4th of July during the last few years of my father's life, he came to our home for a picnic. And he always brought a copy of the Declaration of Independence to read aloud to all us. And so this post is for you, Dad. I read it to myself today....it is good to remind ourselves about the principles this country was founded upon.

You've Got to Try This

2011-06-30T04:30:00.000-07:00

I made four pies at the beach--two blueberry and two cherry. The cherry pies were the hands down favorite (mine too). Last summer, I tried freezing cherry pie filling; those cherry pies were made with that filling. Yesterday, I made some more, so I thought I would share the winning recipe.

Cherry Pie Filling

8 cups of tart cherries

5 tablespoons cornstarch

2 1/2 cups of sugar

Wash cherries; drain. Pit cherries.

Combine sugar and cornstarch. Stir in cherries; let stand until juices begin to flow, about 30 minutes. Cook over medium heat until mixture begins to thicken. Ladle pie filling into can-or-freeze jars or plastic freezer boxes, leaving 1/2 inch head space. Cool at room temperature not to exceed 2 hours. Seal, label, and freeze.

Today, it is back to the Amish farmer's market to buy more cherries. I think four quarts of this red goodness are not nearly enough for the pies I need to make next year. Go get yours soon. Cherry season doesn't last long!

Beyond Mere Disappointment

2011-06-29T04:43:00.000-07:00

Last night, I finished this triangular prayer shawl, but I am not pleased with it.

Two weeks ago, a telephone call delivered sadness, news that weighs heavily on my heart. A longtime, very dear family friend battles cancer. Virulent and malignant, it has spread to multiple places throughout her body. She has months, or so says her doctor. I felt she called to say goodbye. What does one say or do about this? I told her we would pray for her (which we are), I listened, and I cried (she did to). The next morning, I wrote her a letter, and I bought yarn. Eleanor starts chemo very soon, so I thought making her a light, soft, prayer shawl for summer treatments was something tangible I could do while wrestling with her diagnosis and bleak prognosis. I purchased a light, organic, bamboo yarn, deciding on worsted weight rather than the bulky that was called for in the pattern. Using larger needles, I hoped to create a loose knit and soft drape. But these were not a good choices, because while knitting in our car on our travels to and from North Carolina, I dropped stitches. The repairs are evident, and I am disappointed. I won't give Eleanor this visibly flawed covering.

My goal was to create something to present to her when we visit her; I wanted to "do" something for her by making something for her. The real beauty (and power) of prayer shawls is while making them, I am praying (a lot) for the recipient, so I did "do" something, something that Eleanor will never see. And maybe that is okay. Perhaps what is more important now is simply being something for her. I guess our prayers, our presence, and our friendship, spanning almost 31 years, need to suffice, even when nothing seems sufficient right now.

Living on Beach Time

2011-06-23T15:33:00.000-07:00

We are on vacation--away from our state, our house, our routine, our calendar, and our clocks. Time is irrelevant at the beach. Our days have been spent riding bikes in the morning to get the newspaper and tool around a bit...

Later on we walk to the beach

and sit...

or stand...

or play...

Then back home to spend time making puzzles...

and reading...

and more reading....

Sometimes we draw...

and other times we eat...

But at all times, we really just love being together.

Standards

2011-06-16T03:43:00.000-07:00

I can tell when the school year winds down, because my brain turns to mush--too much use I guess. An over taxed brain at the end of the day results in an under taxing reading appetite. I read all three of the Friday Night Knitting Club books, one right after another during the closing weeks of school. Who knew Knit Lit comprises its own genre?

I own a whole shelf of knitting books, collected over years of knitting. Like the CD's played repeatedly, and the cookbooks containing splattered pages, there are a few knitting books, with post-it notes marking more than one pattern--a small selection of books read page-by-page, taking in the narratives as well as the patterns. I used two of them these past several weeks.

Mason Dixon Knitting is a charming, as well as, practical book. The delightful thing about it is the number of patterns that call for dishcloth yarn, the cheap cotton yarn easily purchased at Walmart. I have made bibs, burp cloths, dishcloths, a rag rug, and my latest obsession, this "Heartbreakingly Cute Baby Kimono." It is...heartbreakingly cute.

The other book, the one currently sitting on my knitting sofa, is the newest book added to my collection and the second in a two-book series by Joelle Hoverson--More Last-Minute Knitted Gifts. I really enjoyed and used heavily her first book (Last Minute Knitted Gifts) and didn't hesitate to order the second book when it was published last year. In addition to a variety of patterns (included in sections titled by number of hours calculation for completion), Hoverson writes about the use of color, practical and lovely ideas for wrapping knitted gifts, while also indexing practical basic knitting knowledge. I have made numerous "Linen Stitch Bookmarks" and one set of "Baby Socks." I am in the process of making the "Easy Baby Cardigan."

Having some oldies but goodies, the simple basics, those things tried and true, or whatever we call the touchstones we return to over and over again, grounds us. Gives us something we can count on. And that is comforting when life gets too hectic or our brains turn to mush.

Endings and beginnings

2011-06-11T06:14:00.000-07:00

After over a week of saying goodbye to my students, my classroom, and my colleagues, I woke this morning to welcome my first official day as a retiree. However, even as this third act commences, it begins by looking back with tender reflection:

...on the most beautiful retirement party anyone ever could have. I am blessed to have worked with the loveliest of ladies who spun magic in my life by providing encouragement, strength, wisdom, good humor and love.

...on the love, devotion and blessing of an anam chara, friend of the soul. Carol's love for me and her work to mark this transition with elegance, meaning, and more than touching tribute has been beyond imagination or belief. It has rendered me speechless on more than one occasion. To be known and to be loved so fully is one of life's greatest gifts.

....on my last days with "my kids," since really it has always been about them. Over these past 22 years, I roughly calculate 2,200 names in those 22 gradebooks. These past several weeks, I have sorted through files (both paper and digital) of lessons, quizzes, student projects, emails, notes--a collage of so many faces and so many stories etched into my heart's memory. I carry these always.

..and on all my talented, dedicated, and caring colleagues--members of the reading staff, the English department, the high school faculty and staff and the school district administration. Their words and gifts to me this week have humbled me as they have honored me. I am grateful beyond measure. Teaching (and education) creates unbounded wealth. And I know in every fiber of my being that I am indeed one rich woman.

The last day of school

2011-06-10T03:02:00.000-07:00

At last, the day is here, the day when after I turn in my grades, my keys, and my computer, I exit an emptied classroom for the final time. In true Herman (and Hamlet) fashion, I have pondered (and over pondered) this day since school began in August.

My teaching career commenced at Lake Lehman High School in August 1988. Those five years in Lehman were halcyon days of hard, hard work (five preparations!) coupled to the thrill of learning how to teach and the delight of what it means to have pupils. In so many ways, Lehman students and one master teacher (Maureen Purcell) instilled in me the soul of teaching that has propelled me through my entire career. It was a sacred time...

In 1994, I returned to my hometown and to my Alma Mater, State College Area High School. My tenure here refined who I am as a teacher and unquestionably defined who I am as a colleague and a member of a faculty. My students continued as the lights and loves of my days and the reasons I returned each August.

In the 20+ years my Septembers through June have been spent in a classroom, much in the field of education has changed; however the fundamental truth of what it means to be a teacher remains the same. It is indeed hard work. But it is primarily a thrilling, delightful, meaningful, fulfilling and touching calling. I have always been proud to say I am teacher.

For quite a while now, people have been asking me how I feel about retiring, this stepping away from my career in a classroom. It has been difficult to wrap language around what I need to say about this knot tying up my stomach. I know those words and those stories will come. But not today...

(These images of my classroom come from the eye and camera of Denise Schwab; thank you, Denise)

Strawberry Saturday

2011-06-04T18:20:00.000-07:00

“Strawberries are the angels of the earth,

innocent and sweet with green leafy wings reaching heavenward.”

~Terri Guillemets

The Amish fruit and vegetable stand is back in business and today they had rows and rows of beautiful strawberries, my grandson's and my favorite fruit. I bought a flat....

and froze some...

and made some frozen strawberry yogurt with this recipe:

1 pound fresh strawberries

2/3 cup sugar

1 cup plain, whole-milk yogurt

1 tsp. lemon juice

Slice strawberries into small pieces. Toss in bowl with sugar, stirring until sugar dissolves. Let stand for a little while. Puree strawberries and liquid with the yogurt and lemon juice. Refrigerate for an hour and then freeze in your ice cream maker.

My ice cream maker is new--an attachment for my Kitchen Aid mixer and this was really easy to make and really good to eat!

And finally after dinner, I made a batch of strawberry rhubarb jam, another favorite of mine...

using this recipe:

2 cups crushed strawberries

2 cups chopped rhubarb

1 package powdered pectin

1/2 cup lemon juice

51/2 cups sugar

Combine strawberries, rhubarb, powdered pectin and lemon juice in a large saucepot. Bring to a boil over high heat. Add sugar, stirring until dissolved. Return to a rolling boil. Boil hard 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Skim foam. Ladle hot jam into hot jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Adjust two piece caps. Process 10 minutes in a boiling water canner.

All sweetness!

for James

2011-05-30T05:35:00.000-07:00

In two months, we will meet little James--a new grandchild, a second son for our daughter...this boy named after her father, my husband. Her dad and I talk about him all the time and pray for him (and his mama) every day. I just like saying and hearing his name, a name now doubly precious to me. We wonder what he will look like, what personality will manifest itself, and what his presence among us will bring. Our family expands.

Over the past several months, I have been knitting for little James, dreaming of him nightly though my fingers. Several years ago, I discovered this pattern. The combination of garter-stitched stripes of color, edged with braided tassels results in such a joyful baby blanket. I have admired Mission Falls yarns and patterns ever since I chanced upon them online, and I always knew when the opportunity arose, I would knit at least one of these baby blankets. I just finished it this week--seven different colors of yarn and more braiding of tassels than I ever imagined. Someday soon, I hope to see a little head resting on this blanket and little fingers playing with those tassels.

Packing Up

2011-05-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

As I walked in the door a few minutes ago, my husband chirped this greeting: "11 more days!" In 11 days, I relinquish my trusty computer, hand over my keys, and close the door to my classroom (room 212 South) for the very last time. In 11 days, I will be a retiree.

From last September to this coming June (next week!), I have thought a lot about this what it means to retire. I knew in August that my desire for this year was to be intentional, both with my students and with my colleagues. I hoped somehow to use up and give away the best of what I have learned. My way is certainly not the only way but I think I have learned a little bit about teaching kids to read and write and think and speak.

The past several days before I leave for the day, I have been cleaning out the bookcases, drawers, files, and closets in my teaching space. I make three choices--pitch (almost daily, I have filled all three waste baskets in our room, as well as respectfully recycling), pass it on (and what fun that is..gifting a book I think someone will use or an artifact/memory I have shared with someone), or bring it home, for my summer project of organizing my study to reconcile my teacher life with whatever comes next.

So here it is--the crate that brings it home and the piles now forming. There is a certain lightness to it all, really there is....

p.s. The first two pictures were taken by students of mine when we did a mini unit on seeing...both in our world and the world of reading.

Those days

2011-05-21T05:58:00.000-07:00

Teaching, frequently, seems more like marching and less like dancing; however, there are those days and those moments when teachers and students riff, departing the score and improvising; it is there and then when magic occurs. These days keep teachers returning to the classroom, day-after-day and year-after-year.

Yesterday, was such a day.

It is the tradition of our English Seminar (a class I have now team taught for six years) to hold an end of the year picnic as a celebration of who we are and what we do. The "who we are" part is that we are a class of struggling high school readers and writers. The "what we do" part is that we strive to create a classroom community that seeks to methodically strengthen skills and build confidence in kids for whom school is not place where success comes easily. After a lot of pushing, pulling, nagging, encouraging, repeating, and reteaching, growth really does inevitably occur. The purpose of our celebration is to name that growth and celebrate it together.

Our picnic was rained out by a week's worth of rain that made the ground soggy and slippery. Plan B was to set up tables and have a buffet/dinner party. Smaller, more intimate, and ultimately lovely.

We had pulled pork and hamburger barbeque. One of kids made the most amazing mousse-filled, Swiss chocolate cups (he dreams of going to culinary school and I have no doubt he will!).

We gave out awards to each student and books to our "graduating" 10th graders. We were loud, there was music playing, and plenty of laughter. These really are the days....

Showers

2011-05-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I head off to a bridal shower, one of those wonderful rituals women have created to usher their daughters into new passages in life. My friend Karen is gathering friends and family to shower her daughter with practical household items and a collection of women's wisdom to go with them. On a 3 X 5 card, we are asked to pass along hints and advice. Here is mine:

Advice from my mother: "Always clean up as you go along."

Hints for cleaning kitchen appliances: to rid yellowing from white appliances try this: Mix together 1/2 cup of bleach, 1/4 cup baking soda and 4 cups warm water. Apply with sponge and let set for 10 minutes. Rinse and dry thoroughly.

I have been married for almost 40 years, yet I must confess that only within the past 10 years have I heeded and thus come to appreciate my mother's rationale--it makes cooking and cleaning up afterward more efficient and much easier.

Note: these traditional ball band dishcloths still remain as my favorite pattern to knit and certainly, the most durable and hardy washing and wiping cloth to use (my husband told me so, totally unsolicited a few weeks ago!).

On the flip side of the card, I pay homage to my grandma, Mildred Bame Herman. One of my most vivid memories of her is going "calling" one sunny, summer afternoon. We carried split-wood baskets of vegetables picked that morning from grandpa’s garden and flowers cut fresh from hers, the most beautiful, abundant, and varied flower gardens I still have ever seen. Had I only appreciated and applauded her and the beauty of her art when it was so vividly before me every summer...

What my grandmother showed me by her example:

"I learned from my mother how to love

the living, to have plenty of vases on hand

in case you have to rush to the hospital

with peonies cut from the lawn...

...To every house you enter, you must offer

healing; a chocolate cake you baked yourself,

the blessing of your voice, your chase touch."

-excerpted from

"What I Learned from My Mother"

by Julia Kasdorf

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T03:49:00.000-07:00

I became a mother at barely 20 years of age. Honestly, I grew up right alongside my children. Getting married at 19 and giving birth at 20 is truly is not the typical trajectory for women, yet were I given the choice to do it all over again, I would...exactly..the same. Marrying Jim was the smartest, illogical decision I have ever made. Yesterday, my two sons each (and separately) gave me roses. I talked to my daughter (who is away at an artist residency) three times. I love being a mother, but then I learned how to do that from the best--my own mother, gone now almost 11 years. I will never stop missing her (and Dad)....

We are One

2011-04-30T15:27:00.000-07:00

I am a practicing Lutheran who just returned from a gathering of women, held at a Catholic retreat center where I spent almost 24 hours talking and pondering what it would have been like to sit at the feet of the Jewish rabbi Jesus. My conclusion? There is one God, who reigns over all, regardless of how we in our limited vision chose to parse it out. The details we quibble over are probably not all that important. What I learned are best summed up in a few Hebrew words and ideas.

The daily devotional piety of the the Jewish faith historically is summarized in the term kavanah, which is attentiveness to God, an act or appreciation of being able to stand in presence of God. This attentiveness should be applied to four activities: prayer, studying scriptures, performing acts of lovingkindness and doing our life’s work.

By "stringing pearls," linking together text after text and bringing together different passages from different places, we are able to explore great spiritual truths

Haver means literally a “friend.” “Studying Scripture with haverim was considered essential to the Hebrews. Today this also this affirms our need for community as we seek to understand Scripture.”

Blessings (berakhah ) are a daily part of the life of Jew. Blessing were said throughout the day and for the bad things in our life as well as for the good The traditional first line for every blessing is :

“Barukh atah, Adoiai Elohenu, Melek Ha-oloam..”

Blessed are you, O Lord God, King of the universe.

Blessed be Thy name.

Turning Pages

2011-04-21T06:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I cheat

when reading, peaking

at the end

to ease living

through the middle.

Other times, I read much

too quickly, grabbing the gist

rather than lingering on

the words and lines,

crafted carefully

to weave a tale.

But stories are best lived

on each presenting page,

gently turned

one after the other.

My life too

is best lived,

day-by-day,

hour-by-hour,

each minute savored

as simply as it comes.

Afghans

2011-04-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

I seek to hold possessions lightly, not clutching any material object so tightly that should it break or go missing, I am overly devastated. However, I must confess that when a naughty cat on a side table sent my mother's Waterford crystal candy dish (one à la Ronald Regan's jelly bean jar) crashing to the floor and smashing its lid, I surfed the web to see what it would cost to replace it. I lament selling an old family spinning wheel when we once needed cash, and I also believe I should have held onto a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress my mother bought me in the 80's. But if I could wish one lost item back, it would be a black-bordered, granny square afghan my mother crocheted when she was a new bride and mother-to-be, living in an apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey. That afghan sat atop several sofas in my growing-up life, until it didn't. I don't even know when or how it departed my parent's house; regretfully, I was too busy living my life to notice. But now as a knitter who occasionally crochets, I yearn for that artifact, a narrative of sort, crafted from my mother's hands. I would cherish seeing the colors she chose and the patterns she made.

This past fall, I bid on (and won) an afghan that reminded me of the one mom made, but it is no replacement for hers, crocheted with finer wool on a smaller hook. However, this one was made by another mom who bequested it a son who then donated it to a benefit for our church's CROP Walk effort. My mother would have approved.

An evening is not sufficiently restful for me if I don't knit a little and read a little. I like to be covered as I sit and knit, usually watching a little television with my husband. Nightly, I drape an afghan over my legs. With our new room, an afghan to match the new sofa seemed in order. So about two months ago, I began. Year upon year has passed (the summer we drive Barbara back and forth to Governor's School) since last I hooked an afghan intended for us, and I have savored seeing this blanket of squares unfold. It is now finished...this warmth from my hands.

32

2011-04-14T14:20:00.000-07:00

A scant month after the last birthday, we celebrate today the birthday of our youngest, our son Robert. He has grown into a man of such character, integrity, and goodness that he makes his father and me happy every day. And knowing that our son is in a classroom stretching kids to read, write, and think makes me his mother especially proud. Happy birthday Rob....

Poem In Your Pocket Day

2011-04-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is Poem In Your Pocket Day, The idea is simple: you select a poem you love and then you carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends. Here is the poem that will sit in my pocket tomorrow:

Holding My Beads

Unforgiving as the course of justice

Inerasable as my scars and fate

I am here

a woman….with all my lives strung out like beads

before me

It isn’t privilege or pity

that I seek
It isn’t reverence or safety

quick happiness or purity

but

the power to be what I am/a woman

charting my own futures/ a woman

holding my beads in my hand

-by Grace Nichols

Spring Tonic

2011-04-02T10:25:00.000-07:00

We just returned from spending the week in North Carolina. What a gift these days were for the end of March, and what has been for us here a mostly cold and rather gloomy start to Spring. And speaking of gifts, this is what awaited me upon my arrival---a special plate, wrapped with a note, handwritten from my Alexander.

Our primary responsibility this week was spelling our pregnant daughter from childcare duties, with her helpmate away at a conference. In addition, Jim and I shopped, cooked, and did multiple loads of laundry.

Of course being hands-on grandparents was joy, pure-and -simple, for us. We toured the Africa section of the North Carolina Zoo on Alex's day off. I happily assumed bus duty for him and had the privilege of meeting his teacher and seeing his Kindergarten classroom (it is really rather amazing the blooming that occurs in Kindergarten). I was his lunch packer, snack provider, homework coach (loved it!), his game partner, bath overseer, and bedtime reader. As a Nana who lives over eight hours away, participating in each one of those daily routines was a treat most rare.

On the road trip South and while I was there, I knit my daughter (and new grandson James), a prayer shawl (with this wonderful yarn). If I can't put my arms around her all the time, I can at least leave a wrapping of yarn that will.

An added bonus of the week was spending time with sister Margie who is learning to knit (how cool is that?!). So we sat together and knit together for a while.

And now I am home, batteries recharged and soul satisfied...by the love of family.

36

2011-03-20T03:58:00.000-07:00

Thirty-six years ago today our daughter was born. There was a daffodil on my breakfast tray the next morning, signaling the first day of Spring. She has been a flower in our lives every day since...Happy birthday, dear Barbie, happy birthday to you!

Comfort

2011-03-19T15:55:00.000-07:00

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people….
Isaiah 40:1

On this bright March, Saturday morning, Jim and I made our way over the mountain from our Nittany Valley into Big Valley, a haven of sort for us. We crossed the boundaries of our everyday work days by cresting the mountains that surround us. We drove through the Pennsylvania farmlands, breathing in sights of newly shorn lambs, grazing cattle, and freshly ploughed fields.

Driving out of town, I observed to my husband that the news weighs so heavily. The devastation of Japan is hardly fathomable; Jim commented he feels such insult to land and home of such a dignified, honorable culture seems even harder to comprehend. While I have watched with fascination (and a certain amount of celebration) the revolution rippling throughout the Arab world, the march toward military action in Libya feels ominous. I dread yet one more war….

On the Pennsylvania home front, my profession and my vocation—education (along with all other public employees), is taking a sucker punch (and I must confess I am still finding it inconceivable that we talking this way) for the financial shortfall of my state (as well as other states nationwide). The suggestion is to balance the budget on the backs of people who have worked hard and honorably for a living while we continue with tax breaks for business, who in many ways promulgated a gambling, lavish, live-beyond-your means ethos that literally broke the bank (okay, blantant editorializing...I know).

Yesterday, three teachers I respect all cried, the stress from a week of state testing tipping the scales of the weight caring educators bear every day.

I need the weekend to repair a bit. And a repair kit for us in safe, secure Central Pennsylvania comes as simply as a good meal...

Saturday dinner for us is always big meal. Matthew is home, and I enjoy planning and making a family dinner for the three of us. Tonight I pulled out comfort food recipes—Pittsburgh Potatoes from my Nana and meatloaf from Adele Davis, one of the first cookbooks I owned as a newly engaged bride-to-be. Ground chuck from Peachey’s in Big Valley, bacon and potatoes from Sycamore Farm in Pennsylvania Furnace, and onions, peppers, and carrots from our own CSA. Old recipes laden with memories, local food, the light of almost spring, and family=batteries recharging, well filling up.

Comfort Food Recipes:

Pittsburgh Potatoes (from my Nana Lydia Hueston)

(interesting…this assumes you know how to make a white sauce)

4 C. diced uncooked potatoes

small onion minced and cooked with potatoes for 5 minutes

2 C. medium white sauce ( 4 T. butter, 4 T. flour & 2 C. milk)

salt & pepper

1 C. grated sharp cheddar cheese

½ C. cracker crumbs

Boil potatoes and onions in water. Place in baking dish. Add cheese to white sauce. Pour over potatoes and sprinkle with cracker crumbs. Dot with butter.

Bake in 350º oven for 20-25 minutes.

Meat Loaf (from Adele Davis, Let’s Cook It Right)

Crumble

2 slices whole-wheat into ½ cup fresh milk

When moist, add and mix well:

1 egg

1 or 2 shredded onions

1 minced clove garlic

¼ C wheat germ

2 lbs. lean ground beef

1 ½ tsp. salt (I never add salt to anything…years of cooking for a kidney dialysis patient)

2 T. chopped parsley

small onion and bell pepper chopped (I used frozen I had from summer)

1-2 grated carrots

½ teaspoon basil and freshly ground peppercorns

Mix thoroughly, preferably with fingertips. Mold into loaf in a shallow baking dish or pack into greased loaf pan. Sprinkle with paprika. (I crisscrossed two strips of bacon over the top). Bake in moderate oven at 350º for about 1 hour until temperature in center is 185º.

I only wish nourishing the body and soul of the world were as easy.

Felting

2011-03-12T10:02:00.000-08:00

This week, I spent my knitting hours working through a basket full of remnant yarn from former projects ( I recycle well, don't I?). Truthfully, I sincerely try to be one who uses up rather than throws out. Perusing my collection of yarn leftovers, I made my first pass-through, gathering up bits of assorted yarn to give to two colleagues who are creating a "recycled" project workshop, intended for a menu day during the long stretch up of upcoming PSSA days (AND that is another post altogether--No Child Left Behind and state mandated testing). Then...I considered the remainder of this yarn and thought--I could really recycle it all into felted potholders. So...I began knitting squares and combining colors, all the while relishing the fun of mixing hues and recalling other projects.

And finally, I put them in an old pillowcase and felted them....into potholders.

Surely, there is a metaphor here. You take what you have, assemble it, plunge it into the rotating, hot waters of life, and you end up with something solid, useful....and just maybe...even pretty.

Pattern for Knitted Infant Cap

2011-03-07T05:55:00.000-08:00

One of the easiest and most satisfying things to knit is a simple pattern my mother gave me for a baby hat. The pattern is one used by a team of local knitters who supply the hospital with hats to cover tiny newborn heads. Here it is:

Cast on 60 stitches using fine baby yarn and number 4 needles. Knit 5 rows of K1 P! ribbing. Change to number 8 needles and knit 24 rows in stockinette stitch (K1 row--P1 row). Knit 1-knit 2 together across one row. Knit 5 rows of K1 P1 ribbing. K2 together across row.

Cut yarn to 18 inch length, thread on yarn needle and put through remaining stitches. Pull up and sew together and down the side. Use any color or combination. Trim top as desired--bow, pom-pom, etc.

(My variation: I make these hats by knitting in-the-round on double points. They come together very quickly--this one, made last night for little baby Bodhie, was knit in its entirety while watching Iron Man 2!)

Sunday night in March

2011-03-06T16:08:00.000-08:00

This is tonight...

but just two days ago, it was a day precisely as Dickens described: "one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade." March--both days.

Sixty

2011-03-01T15:08:00.000-08:00

My big brother turned 6o last week, so last weekend my sister-in-law threw him a big (really big!) surprise party. We drove to New Jersey to celebrate and that we did, all weekend. Saturday night was a family dinner, with steak, smashed potatoes, ice cream cake and presents. I knit Dick a pair of birthday socks to go with the gift certificate designated for his hobby--photography.

The next day, after church (where he lead the service and preached two times), we somehow managed to get him to the big fellowship hall where 160 friends and family waited to fête and roast him.

Knowing him the longest, I kicked off the roasting. It was actually more difficult than I originally thought to pull out only a few story snapshots about our growing up in the Eisenhower 50's and the Kennedy/Johnson 60's. We had a loving, secure, and (in our own Herman-way) magical childhood. I have always liked having a brother; he has always been scholarly, wise, reflective, loyal, disciplined, kind, and thoughtful--truly a man of God from a very young age. There has never been a day in my life when I could not say I was proud of my big brother….I still am. Happy Birthday, Dick. I love you...

This week

2011-02-20T04:21:00.000-08:00

For a long time, I have intended to make my daughter-in-law a sweater. This week, I crossed that off my “to-knit” list. Following Shalom, a pattern my daughter found, I used Swish, a bulky washable, Merino wool (easy care, I hope) in Hawk (because she likes grey). I finished it, tied a red ribbon embossed with hearts around it, and mailed it off just in time for it to arrive exactly on Valentine’s Day.

Our whole family feels so blessed to have Alexis with us. She is funny, smart, witty, and clever. She reads voraciously, writes a weekly column on the Harrisburg music scene, works for a non-profit nature center, and cooks amazing food, cognizant of using local produce. She is a devoted sister and daughter. She sings, she acts, she laughs lustily; she makes life a good time. But most of all, she loves my son who adores her just as much in return. Having her in our family fills my heart with joy and thanksgiving…

My Bag

2011-02-06T04:52:00.000-08:00

I bought this bag for the things I carry

and for the weight of this calling,

which bows my back , strains my hips,

flattens my arches.

and my furrows my brow.

I carry the symbols of my job;

my name bag and paw-print-labeled keyring,

dangling the key to school, classroom,

a computer cart,

and my life from morning to dusk.

I carry the tools of my trade;

loose paper clips, post it notes, piles of pens,

(felt tip, ball point, permanent

and impermanent markers)

for jotting notes on papers, overhead film, triplicate forms

big white paper taped to the wall, notes, reminders, or hall passes.

I carry my books

my Kindle and O’Brien’s paperback,

pleasure and professional amalgamated

I carry a need to be prepared

at all times for all things for teacher and for student who need a cough drop, writing “implement” tissue, rubber bands, bottle of water, granola bar, or lunch money.

I carry remedies for the tensions of the days,

two packs of gum to freshen lunch mouth or sweeten speech;

I carry headache pills, lip balm and a emery board,

to smooth the roughness from the edges.

I carry my wallet enfolding one photograph of my grandson, my driver’s license

identifying me as an organ donor

I carry a red phone connecting me to my family and friends

I carry soft worn black leather gloves which once covered my mother’s hands,

all reminders that beyond these school wall,

another life awaits in a space to breathe

and simply be….

(written in concert with my students during our considerationof Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried)

Mammograms

2011-01-28T13:52:00.000-08:00

I had my mammogram today. I always tell my friends that they should never neglect that simple test, because that simple test is what detected my breast cancer and what helped to get rid of it. And what, ultimately, saved my life.

Almost five years ago, a routine mammogram discovered an irregular spot in my breast so far back, almost touching my breast bone, that a routine self exam would not have detected it. A surgical biopsy later (which was actually a lumpectomy) revealed that "spot" was actually Stage I Invasive Breast Cancer. However, since it was caught early and small and had not yet spread to any lymph nodes, my treatment was radiation therapy for seven weeks, five years of check-ups, twice-a-year mammograms, and a daily dose of drug therapy (Arimidex).

Last month, I saw my surgical oncologist for the last time, today my mammogram marks my last one in the 5-year-out timeline that defines "cure," and these three bottles are my last round of the prophylactic pill I take daily. I am blessed to live in an age that can "cure" this once-deadly cancer, at least for many women. My doctor told me that because of its location, had I waited to detect this cancer by self-exam, it would have been too late.

I don't think often of being a cancer survivor; however, I am reminded keenly of the fact that I am one when I prepare to go to appointments like today or like last month. I no longer notice the little blue dots that tatoo my skin to signal the radiation coordinates. I mindlessly pop my little white pill daily along with my multivitmin, lutein, fish oil, B-complex, etc. etc., never noting that this pill is designed to prevent the estrogen buildup that fueled my cancer growth. And I can barely see the surgical scars that crisscross the skin of my left breast. But I am a cancer survivor and I admit to crying as I walk the survivor lap at the Relay for Life I participate in each year. I am grateful to be alive and grateful that reserachers devote their time and energy and passion and doctors do their jobs well and pharamaceutical companies develop new drugs and women allow themselves to participate in drug trials and families and friends walk to raise money....year after year after year....after year...

My New Knitting Place

2011-01-24T15:46:00.000-08:00

In October we began several home improvement projects--repainting the kitchen and replacing the cabinet knobs, redoing the whole powder room, and enclosing a screen porch to turn it into a television room. Finally, it is all complete--totally done. We are enjoying our new room, our new furniture, and the added living space we now have on our lower lever. For me, the best part is I now have much appreciated room to stretch out my legs while I knit and room to put my yarn, patterns, and all the tools of my craft right alongside me and Lily, my feline knitting friend.

The first thing I finished knitting in the new room is this sweet little baby kimono for a baby shower I am hosting here on Wednesday. The pattern is from the wonderful Mason Dixon Knitting.

I even set up my sewing machine in the new room, on the table by the window. Last weekend, I stitched up two more bedtime bags for baby Bodie's sister Lucy who is coming with her Mama to the shower and Lucy's friend Emerson who is tagging along with her mother. Wednesday is Emerson's birthday so I thought she deserved a treat too. I am giving them both Elmer, one of Alex's (and my) favorite books from his younger days.

In honor of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

2011-01-17T13:33:00.000-08:00

We cooked--all thirteen of us, teachers and students at State High donned aprons, chopped onions, sweated off the mirepoix while we first-hand experienced the meaning of mis en place. We created over 150 meals for 8 group homes of people with cognitive disabilities (and their devoted staff) who live among us in our community. It was rather amazing....really...truly.

"I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."
~Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

January

2011-01-08T14:02:00.000-08:00

Winter Trees

All the complicated details
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.

by William Carlos Williams

Collage

2010-12-31T04:57:00.000-08:00

Tonight we turn the calendar to a new year, venturing more fully into a new decade. What amazing changes 10 years can bring...
During this past decade, we buried both my mother and my father...saw the Twin Towers crumble and our country engage in wars on two fronts (our men and women in uniform still remain in both Afghanistan and Iraq). Our family celebrated two weddings and a birth, joyfully welcoming Chris, Alexis, and little Alexander to Clan Campbell. Jim endured heart surgery, and I battled breast cancer. Matthew sustained his ongoing productive life in the community, Barbara left Pennsylvania and settled in North Carolina, initially a city dweller who now enjoys the country life with her family. Robert fulfilled his dream of being a full time actor, later changing careers to assume a different stage and role, that of classroom and teacher. We bought bikes, and discovered trails, plumbing the beauty of Central Pennsylvania. We reunioned and reunited with friends and family. We added on to our home, twice expanding and redoing to make Woodland Drive a welcoming place for family and retirement. We traveled to Sunset Beach, Moorestown, and Pittsburgh, seeking pleasure and seeing family. Our niece gave birth to a beauty named Lydia, after my mother and her great-grandmother. Jim retired while I continue to teach, my school life changing dramatically as a result of the digital age. We email, iChat, iPhoto, Facebook, Flip Video, TiVo, and blog. We recycle, reuse, and "repurpose." We buy and "eat locally." I can, jam, and fill our freezer, even this year with a hog purchased from the farm of one of my students. I rediscovered sewing and continued to knit my way through the seasons, marking birthdays with socks, Christmas with woolens for heads and hands, and the birth of babies with blankets and sweaters. Prayer shawls and the sacred space they create enchanted me. We added rescued cats to our empty-nest family--Katie and Max. And now Max, Gracie, and Lily who add immeasurable spark, warmth, companionship and joy to our days. We walk to ameliorate hunger and end cancer. We seek justice for the homeless, the hungry, the disenfranchised, and the disabled. We worship, we pray, we petition, and we give thanks for all the good gifts of our lives....

Happy New Year...may 2011 bring more gifts untold...

Silent Night

2010-12-24T18:25:00.000-08:00

Sleep in heavenly peace.... Merry Christmas!

Gratitude

2010-12-19T14:27:00.000-08:00

"The measure of a society is found in the way that it cares

for its weakest members." - Mahatma Ghandi

'Tis the season to celebrate our appreciation and love for those who surround us. A group of people who mean so much to our family is the Strawberry Fields staff who make it possible for our son Matthew to live and work in his community. It is their good work, their ongoing patience, care, and dedication, that enables him to continue to grow and develop in oh so many ways. Through the years he has lived in his group home, he has gained confidence and independence. And for all of this, we are most grateful.

Still having fun

2010-12-18T04:21:00.000-08:00

...making these bedtime bags à la Amanda Soule's first book, The Creative Family. This morning at church, I have simultaneous commitments--a baby shower and the Christmas program rehearsal; it will be more rehearsal and less shower. But my baby shower gift is this bag, labeled with Simon (the-baby-on-the-way's name!) and filled with Pete the Cat and the book of the same name.

Handmade

2010-12-14T14:28:00.000-08:00

I remember one Christmas during those early-married, lean years when I made every single one of our gifts. If memory is correct, we were living in an apartment in East York, Matthew was about two, and Barbara was on the way. When Jim landed his first job with Penn State as Area Representative for Continuing Education, his salary was $9,504. After living on part time wages of college students, we were convinced we were rich. But our apartment there was more expensive that the $85 we paid to live on the second floor of an old home on West Nittany Avenue, and we soon found out that it isn't cheap to raise a family. A young stay-at-home mom, I intended to do my part in making our paycheck stretch, and making our Christmas gifts was one way to give more for less. If I remember correctly, that was the Christmas of cross stitch, decoupage, and macrame'.

Our salaries have risen since those days in the early 1970's, and since then I have learned to make lots of different things which are a whole lot more practical (and desirable) than a hanging planter or decorated recipe box (although I am now using one given to my mother!).

For a teacher, the last several weeks before Christmas are hard days to drive off to school. My heart desires keenly to be home, putting up the tree, decorating the house, baking, wrapping, and finishing up the last of my handmade gifts. Due to a bum back, I have been home the past two days (bad news/good news), and today, I pulled together my knitted gifts for family, along with some assorted gifts for our neighbors, for my school friends, and for our church friends.

Summer jam paired with Zimmerman's Peanut Butter (a family and friend favorite!)

...bagged and tagged

...and this Caramel Corn.

Home Improvement

2010-12-06T14:14:00.000-08:00

For the past six weeks, our house has been under improvement, construction, and renovation...wonderful to imagine but taxing to live through.

We began by completely redoing our powder room, which I am embarrassed to admit, has remained the same for the entire 17 years we have lived in this house. My inspiration was a mirror that has been in my family (for a very long time) and in my house (since I have been married), basically forever, it seems. We added a tiled floor, fabulous wallpaper, matching sink and commode, in addition to, a nifty (handmade) cupboard door. Then we spruced up our kitchen with new paint, new jewelry (knobs) for the cabinets, and a flashy new rug. My inspiration? My daughter's artwork.

After that, the real fun began. We are adding a room to our lowest level. We are making a television room (I know my children who grew up without cable or much television in their young lives can't quite believe this) to accommodate our family, so that our children and grandchildren don't need to sit on the floor to watch a film together. Our bottom floor has been ripped up, nothing is in its place, there is dust all over, and Jim and I are rather sick of living in disorder. But...oh the promise of what will be.

Everyone is coming home for Christmas...the actual impetus for this project. And I am convinced it will be ready; our contractor told us so. But until then, we run the vacuum and live among tarps. Jim and I keep saying, "It will be beautiful...it will be great...it will be magical.... it will be OVER...someday, soon!"

I made new dishcloths to match my new kitchen, following a very old, very traditional pattern--the ballband pattern made from classic, dishcloth yarn, the pattern printed on the paper band that circumnavigated the yarn--hence the term, "ballband" for those who care to understand (I was curious about that when I happened upon the pattern). Old and new together. Perfect.

November Jam

2010-11-27T04:11:00.000-08:00

I have never used frozen fruit to make jam, I have never made jam in November, and I have never made jam with Alexis and Bri. Last night, I did all three, creating a most delightful day-after-Thanksgiving event.

A few posts ago, I wrote about teaching my darling daughter-in-law how to can. I had purchased a dozen quilted jam jars for that same weekend, just in case we had time left over to do some jamming. But applesauce takes a long time to make and then can, so we never got to jam. We remedied that last night.

We are developing a Thanksgiving tradition that suits us well, especially with me still teaching. Thanksgiving day, I prepare our meal in a leisurely fashion, and then Jim, Matthew, I and whomever (this year it was Matt's housemate Dan and Raven who works with both of these men) sit down to give our thanks later in the day. Rob, his wife Alexis and her sister have been appearing on Black Friday, when the ladies hit the Black Friday stores, I make my mother's Scalloped Turkey casserole and we share a Thanksgiving redux. The holiday goes on and on in a sweet family sort of way.

After dinner last night, Alexis said, "I feel like putting my jammies on and making something." And we did..make something: actually two batches of something--13 jars of raspberry and raspberry/peach jam. We used these amazing raspberries a friend gave me (already frozen!) from the bounty of her overflowing bushes. We threw in some of my frozen peaches for batch two. Curious if using frozen fruit would make it set or taste differently, Alexis and I could not taste any difference. Good to know.

It sure is fun to jam in November!

Happy Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T10:01:00.000-08:00

"Now thank we all our God,

with heart and hands and voices,
who wondrous things hath done,
in whom his world rejoices;
who from our mother's arms
hath blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today."

--Martin Rinkart, 1663

Mitts, Mitts, and More Mitts

2010-11-20T04:49:00.000-08:00

I love making and wearing mitts. With at least half a dozen mitt patterns already knit, I probably have a dozen more patterns downloaded to try. On these cool, late-fall mornings, I enjoy rooting through the jumble of hats, gloves, mittens, and scarves in our winter woolen basket to select a pair of mitts from my own personal stash. Encountering almost blustery weather during after-school bus duty this week, I was especially grateful to have grabbed a pair of mitts on my morning dash out the door.

Thanksgiving arrives next week, and Christmas soon follows. For some reason, I feel a bit slow on the knitting uptake for this holiday gift-giving season. In years past, my Christmas knitting list was well formed by the time school began in September. But this Fall, I have been knitting just a lot of mitts (some of these and some of these). Even though I am still uncertain who will be gifted from the pile sitting in the cedar chest, I do know lots of fingers will be free and many hands will be warm. Mitts are good for that.

A Good Fit

2010-11-06T15:55:00.000-07:00

I have been knitting sweaters a long time. The second thing I remember knitting (after a pair of slippers) was a striped sweater vest, made from acrylic yarn. I still have that now wrinkled, simple pattern, courtesy of a Community Education "Introduction to Knitting" class I enrolled in shortly after our first child was born (...that would be winter of 1973. Oh my!). Since I have been knitting almost 40 years, you would think that I would be able to knit a sweater that satisfies, in other words, a sweater that fits in a properly pleasing manner. It is not as easy as it would seem to guess what a particular pattern, gauge, and yarn will yield on this aging body.

Today, I sewed the buttons on a sweater vest I knit up with a few skeins of Paton yarn (on sale), hoping that this snugly fitted sweater vest would suit my need for warmth without sleeves. A simple little piece for this transitional time of year. A quick, slip-on sweater that wasn't too big, too long, too wide or too bulky (my complaints about other sweaters I have knit for myself). I think it may just work! I made a few changes, simplifying the edges and adding more buttons down the front. This is one, I do think, I may wear a lot.

[As I am posting, Joe Paterno just won his 400th football game, making him the winningest coach ever in college football. And to think, he actually slept here, once living in our basement, the former home of the football coach who preceded him--Rip Engle. Our own a little piece of Penn State History!]

Elixir

2010-11-04T17:27:00.000-07:00

School and life seemed to be getting a bit heavy and then I left...to fly South and spend time with a magical five-year old (and his mama and da too) who always manages to lift my spirits and set life aright....again.

The Ultimate Compliment

2010-10-16T18:37:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, a colleague grabbed me in the hallway, gushing, "Just the person I have been wanting to see!" Really, what a nice greeting. She proceeded to tell me that the bibs I knit for her son are their absolute favorite bibs, tacking on a request to knit some more for her daughter. She offered to pay. Of course I agreed to maker more, flattered by the compliment; however, instead of payment, I suggested she make a donation to our local PAWS in memory of a fellow member of her history department, a wonderful man (and teacher) who died too soon last June. I finished the bibs this weekend.

I am uncertain what compels me to be continually on the "make" with yarn and needles; I always have a project or two piled in a knitting basket or bag, I always have yarn and patterns awaiting, and I am always making lists and rearranging lists of projects and gift ideas to give to family and friends. I am never totally certain people really enjoy the things I make as much as I relish making them. And maybe that's okay. The making + the giving = a needed spark of creativity in my daily life. It isn't essential to know exactly how they are used after I wrap these projects up and gift them to someone.

These bibs are included in what would certainly be listed among my top ten favorite knitting books--Mason Dixon Knitting: The Curious Knitter's Guide. The book contains simple patterns, many made with dishcloth yarn, along with wonderful stories of knitting, craft, and friendship. If you knit, buy it.

Green Beans and Applesauce

2010-10-11T06:09:00.000-07:00

It was a bit of a joke with my husband--any Herman family meal was incomplete without green beans and applesauce. While that is not precisely true, it is also not too far off the mark. As a child growing up in the 50's and 60's, I think I experienced a rather scant vegetable choice from Birds Eye, and for some crazy reason, which is no longer true, neither my brother nor I were fond of broccoli, brussels sprouts, or asparagus. The green vegetable was, truth be told, often green beans (or the other staple--peas). The applesauce bit is actually a better story.

My Herman grandparents both descended from farming families; therefore, when they purchased their home in Coreopolis, they bought several acres, enough for huge gardens, both vegetable and flower, and a small orchard of fruit trees (apple, peach, pear, and cherry). Their apple trees were an old variety, a summer Transparent apple. I think this variety is no longer readily available. Lodi is the closest thing to it. My applesauce (and apple pie!) palate was formed by Grandma Herman's applesauce, and they way I make it with a Foley Food Mill is the way she taught me and also the same way my mother made it. My mother would can two bushels of apples each summer, a day-long family project, and we routinely plucked those quart jars from her basement canning shelf. Applesauce was served often and at any meal--breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

The legacy lives on. A couple of weeks ago, my daughter in law asked me if I would teach her how to make and can applesauce. This weekend when Rob came up to root Penn State onto what turned out to be a disappointing loss (so sad), Alexis came up for the canning lesson, which is really the passing on of a family tradition. She took to it so naturally...I couldn't be more pleased.

High Tech/Low Tech

2010-09-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

My husband bought me a Kindle for my birthday last weekend. Yes, I confess, it was in response to a rather pointed suggestion on my part: "Wow, only $139 on Amazon! A nice birthday gift don't you think?"

Now, I simply must to learn to use it, adjusting to a dramatically new leisure reading medium. It is small, slim, light--easy to pack for a plane trip to North Carolina or a week at the beach (gone are the days of cramming a tote full of my reading material into an already packed car!). Ah, but I do so love the look and the feel of books, the perusing of the cover, the leafing through the pages, the glancing ahead (yes, I am an inveterate reader of the end before I get there--really my only "cheating" moments).

A survey of some Kindle-reading friends uncovered that they all do both--read books printed on paper and books appearing on screen. I intend to learn that juggling act. However, my Kindle still sits in its box, awaiting the end of Mockingjay, the third book in Suzanne Collins' Hunger Game's trilogy. But after that...Little Bee is ready to go, already loaded onto my little gray reading machine.

I am knitting this cute little cosy to cover my Kindle. I find the juxtaposition of an old craft covering a new technology rather delightful.

Linen

2010-09-11T11:55:00.001-07:00

Once as I rued the crushed composure of a long, periwinkle blue linen skirt, my mother told me to cherish those "rich wrinkles." Now, I most certainly do.

I am convinced my love of knitting began as an attraction to many things textile, so as soon as my mother thus uniquely described linen, a special fondness for that fabric ensued.

Linen, labor intensive to manufacture, is one of the oldest textiles existing. Fragments have been found in prehistoric caves. Egyptian mummies were wrapped in linen, seen to this ancient civilization as a symbol of light and purity (as well as a display of wealth).

Two weeks ago, my copy of Joelle Hoverson's More Last-Minute Knitted Gifts arrived, and the first pattern to catch my eye was the Linen-Stitch Bookmark. Little needles + fine yarn and more time than one would think = a lovely little bookmark. I am making a yarn version of linen...to mark a book. How charming. How perfect.

The Best Part of Me

2010-09-08T11:05:00.000-07:00

My Arms

I have never really liked
my arms, so similar to my grandmother’s–Germanic, stocky, hardworking, thick; born of
farm work, school rooms,
and gardens of flowers.

A bit too fleshy too droopy
these unsung limbs of mine
have climbed trees, ladders, and rocks; they have carried books to school and from the library
to a grandson awaiting
a bedtime story.
They have held a ballet pirouette,
swung a hockey stick,
embraced my sweet husband,
and lifted my children from their cribs. They have been ushered down aisles and
they have cradled my dying parents.

Tanned and just mildly toned, they have been pocked with poison ivy, marred by Florida mosquitoes,
scratched by cats and holly bushes,
bruised by unintended collisions,
and jostled in crowed school hallways.

These same arms grabbed in joy by friends,
jangle my mother’s silver bangles
pilot my bike into the woods,
raise the telephone to my ear
stir pots of summer tomato sauce,
feed the fur folk of our home
serve as sleeve holders for sweater warmth and comfort
and swing wide in story telling, punctuating a tale.

Yet while I lament their aging,
noting spots, flab, and folds,
they serve me faithfully:
sturdy, solid, and strong,
propelling me (boldly!) into my future.

--Mrs. Campbell

( I wrote this in response to my students' getting-to-know-you assignment, our first piece of writing of the school year. Our inspiration? This book.)

Happy Labor Day

2010-09-06T03:54:00.000-07:00

“We need the tonic of wildness, to wade sometimes in marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground.” -Henry David Thoreau

May today bring rest from labor, relaxation for the body, and renewal for the soul.

September Starts

2010-09-01T14:23:00.000-07:00

Last week my 5 year old grandson started kindergarten, a huge event for him, his parents, and for his Nana. In the end, he resolutely climbed those bus steps, stood tall, and waved goodbye. I am so proud of him. Earlier the same week, his mother and dad both returned to their university classrooms, and just days ago, son Rob and I headed back to our high schools, to be with our high school students. School is back in session.

This blog, billed as a knitting blog, has become a place for me to write about just about everything, From cooking to family history (and history in the making) to pets and friends and animals and the seasons, I try to capture snippets of life by wrapping them in words and images.

I haven't really used this space much to dream or project, but I think I might be remiss (and perhaps dishonest) if I didn't confess that I entered my classroom this year with thoughts that this could well be my last first day of school. I may be retiring in June if all goes according to plan. I have thought a lot about what retiring might bring and what it might mean. I have an ever expanding list on my computer of retirement ideas, and my husband and I often speculate on what we will be doing "this time next year" when I (most likely) will be retired (perhaps you can see I am not totally and utterly committed to declaring this yet!).

Summer began for me sitting in a park in Harrisburg watching Gamut Theatre's amazing production of William Shakespeare's As You Like It. Jacques' most famous soliloquy was never more brilliantly delivered to my ear nor resounded in my heart as on that crisp, clear June evening:

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts"

While making my entrance into this school year, I cannot help but consider when to take the proper exit. You see, I believe it may well be my time to consider playing another part...

Blueberry Crumb Bars

2010-08-29T17:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, our son called to propose that he and his lovely wife make a quick, before school starts trip here. What a wonderful, serendipitous summer gift! We shared a tasty supper, assembled from the bounty of the season--corn on the cob, chicken on the grill, green beans, tomato/onion/green pepper and vinaigrette salad, and a new cookie recipe for dessert. Try these! Here is the recipe (I used my frozen July blueberries):

Blueberry Crumb Bars
(Adapted from AllRecipes.com)

1 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup cold unsalted butter (2 sticks or 8 ounces)
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon salt
Zest and juice of one lemon
4 cups fresh blueberries
1/2 cup white sugar
4 teaspoons cornstarch

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Grease a 9×13 inch pan.

2. In a medium bowl, stir together 1 cup sugar, 3 cups flour, and baking powder. Mix in salt and lemon zest. Use a fork or pastry cutter to blend in the butter and egg. Dough will be crumbly. Pat half of dough into the prepared pan.

3. In another bowl, stir together the sugar, cornstarch and lemon juice. Gently mix in the blueberries. Sprinkle the blueberry mixture evenly over the crust. Crumble remaining dough over the berry layer.

4. Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes, or until top is slightly brown.) Cool completely before cutting into squares.blueberry crumb bar

Yield: I cut these into 36 smallish rectangles

These are easiest to cut once chilled, and store even better in the fridge than they do at room temperature–something unusual for cookies!

On the wane

2010-08-21T04:55:00.000-07:00

Last evening biking around campus, I couldn't help but see signs of fall abounding. The sun is setting sooner and yesterday, it seemed especially close and brilliant. A more than slightly detectable fall chill hangs in the dusk air. Hopeful Blue Banders line Penn State practice fields as the director barks out amplified commands. The dorms fully filled and fully lit spill out their occupants who dribble basketballs on courts, throw footballs on nearby grassy grounds, or simply congregate on sidewalks.

Tuesday, I head back to school. This past week we took a final getaway jaunt to Pittsburgh to ride the Montour Trail, a Rails-to-Trails path that winds through Moon Township, the same parcel of land where my grandparents once lived. We visited my Aunt Betty, who at 92 is still as sharp as ever. She baked us cookies--oatmeal with crasins; they were delicious. We also found The Dor Stop Restaurant, one of the places featured on the Food Network's "Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives" (one of my husband's favorite television show, second only to watching his Pittsburgh Pirates). I had amazing banana oatmeal pancakes, and we enjoyed delightful conversation with the owner and his daughter who told us stories of meeting Guy Fieri and his Food Network crew.

All in all, a perfect summer capstone.

Small things

2010-08-15T13:18:00.001-07:00

"Let's give our thanks for little things
that waking up each morning brings..."

I have been working small lately--napkins, these, socks, dishcloths, drawstring bags, etc. I haven't even decided which gifts go where, but rather simply have rested in the pleasure of creating something from the yarn and fabric stashed around my house.

Too often I fear I live my life making ambitious lists, adding on to things, or embellishing ideas, ultimately making them far more complicated than need be. Uncharacteristically, this summer began with a relatively short list of things to accomplish; that list is now complete. I cleaned a bit, read a bit, reconnected with family and friends (actually more than a bit), biked, cooked, froze, jammed, and took as many naps as I think I needed. This is not to boast that I conquered the summer simplicity scene, because truthfully, the family stuff (the beach week and reunion week) seemed a bit like staging a minor theatrical production, complete with cast, crew, set, and props. That really was no ones fault but my own.

In a little over a week, work routine and school demands return. My yearly mantra when school resumes is typically to admonish myself to live fully in the present, enjoying each moment while refusing to worry about what lies ahead. This year, I hope I listen.

Peaches

2010-08-13T05:52:00.000-07:00

...and raspberry peach jam. August.

Back-to-School Sales

2010-08-09T13:46:00.000-07:00

Two weeks from tomorrow, I officially go "back to school," as I return for three days of in-service. Three weeks from tomorrow, I welcome students into my classroom. And of course, all the "Back to School" sales have been well underway for who-knows-how-long...

Already, I have gathered for one, sort-of-informal breakfast gathering with two of my co-teachers and attended one formal meeting to consider the "9th Grade Academy" our school district intends to implement one year from now. I really should be planning but...instead, I decided to sew today (in large part because this morning I was waiting on the dishwasher installation which, I am happy to report, is complete!)

Our church collects blankets, soap and relief kits in September for our world mission effort. In the past several years, I have assembled one or two layette kits, knitting baby sweaters to include with the cloth diapers, onesies, sleepers, undershirts, etc. But this year, I decided to pull together a sewing kit and some school kits. And so today, I sewed up three draw string tote bags and then went shopping at Walmart for 15¢ notebooks, $1.00 scissors and crayons, along with the other reasonably priced supplies needed to fill the bag.

I had fabric to use, purchased from a yard sale, so I only needed to cut squares of material to the required size, follow the easy pattern found here, sew up the edges, create a casing, thread the cord for the drawstring, stuff the tote and ta da! Here they are. My hope is that these scissors, pencils, paper, rulers, erasers, and colored paper will help some children some other where than here learn a little bit better and know a little more fully that seeking an education matters.

Yarn Haiku

2010-08-06T13:55:00.000-07:00

Patches of color
flow gently from my needles
cascading prayers.

(This prayer shawl is destined to go to Nicaragua in March, along with the medical mission team from our church.)

Unplugged yet connected

2010-08-03T05:33:00.000-07:00

“One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.”
-Robert Frost

We were without the use of our landline telephone and plagued by spotty internet connection for a full week last week. I must confess that it was a bit disconcerting how anxious this made me feel. How have I become so tied to wires and wireless connections that when they snap, I feel as if the ground shifts and footholds disappear?

In the middle of being off the grid, we held Camp Alexander, our annual summer week with our grandson (without his Mama and Dad). What a glorious week it was. We spent every day but one (the day we went to Harrisburg to see Aunt Alexis' owls and kingly Uncle Rob) in the water. We splashed and he tubed the magical Spring Creek, we experienced the outdoor pool at Penn State, and we swam (and boated) several times in waters of Whipple Dam. We were outdoors so long and so often that my tan is deeper than after a week on a North Carolina beach!

Before bed each night we read James and the Giant Peach, during the day we molded play dough, built block garage complexes, created a chalk roadway on every hard surface surrounding our house, looked for butterflies, and watched rabbits scamper in the yard. One rainy morning we simply sat observing pools of water forming on the street outside. Alex quietly stated, “Nana, I love watching the rain make puddles on the road.” I can’t remember the last time I puddle watched, but most assuredly, it has been far too long.

The juxtaposition of a child’s innate capacity for unfettered play with my own seemingly peripatetic pattern of relating to the world through a keyboard or a phone has been revealing. My wired life creates a surreal urgency that robs me of the truly significant. I need to do less to live more fully…every, every day.

p.s. In addition, my dishwasher died last week. The jury is still out on whether or not washing dishes by hand creates spiritual discipline.

Summer Reunions

2010-07-27T05:03:00.001-07:00

The past week has been total immersion in an ongoing reunion with family and friends. Our days were filled with the best of summer--multiple family dinners (our dishwasher never remained unfilled), a beautiful new grandniece, a day trip dedicated to exploring family history, afternoons of water fun in a magical stream, an evening at a baseball game, and a weekend of reconnecting with high school memories and friends.

Popsicles

2010-07-18T16:15:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, the relatives are coming!

One summer library trip, Alexander and I checked out this charming book, The Relatives Came by Cynthia Rylant. We had just recovered from our annual Campbell beach week, so her stories and illustrations of people everywhere had us laughing and making connections on just about every page. I've thought a lot about that book this week as we geared up for the car and the plane arriving tomorrow bearing our houseguests--our family...our relatives.

The house is clean, ordered, and prepared. The windows are washed, clean both on the inside and the outside, a feat rarely occurring at the same time. The dirtiest carpets were steam cleaned spot free, fresh sheets cover all beds and clean towels hang on all towel racks. The yard is trimmed, raked, mowed and truly, summer lovely

Our downstairs refrigerator is filled with fruits of the season--a watermelon, a cantaloupe, and boxes of both blueberries and peaches. There are two kinds of cookies in the freezer (you've got to try these peanut butter cookies!) along with frozen peach puree for baby Lydia. A pound cake sits on the counter with a canister of homemade granola right beside it.

But the totally whimsical and spontaneously fun thing I did in preparation was to make popsicles! I was inspired a week or so ago when I read this post on one of my favorite food blogs--Orangette. The very cool pop molds (we've come a long way from Dixie cups and tongue depressors) just arrived yesterday, and almost immediately, I began trying out some recipes. With frozen raspberries in our freezer, I made the "Raspberry Popsicles" featured on Orangette. Today, I found another great recipe for strawberry orange pops, and pulled out some just-June frozen strawberries to blend those up. I even found a recipe for "Rocky Road Pops" (which sound a bit like a fancy fudgsicle); I will probably try those out next week, when Alexander's Mama is away on retreat.

Here is the Strawberry Orange Popsicle recipe:

1 quart orange juice
2 cups strawberries fresh or frozen
3 tablespoons sugar *
1 cup vanilla yogurt

*(omit if using sweetened strawberries)

Blend till smooth or not-so-smooth, depending on preference. Pour into molds and freeze.

Made 12 - 2.5 oz. popsicles.

Pretty easy and very good!

1967

2010-07-13T04:25:00.000-07:00

During the summer of 1967, I worked for Head Start. I, like many of my generation, took to heart John F. Kennedy's charge to do something for my country, and so I tried to. My summer that summer provided me, a rather naive 14 year old young woman of middle-class, small-town ease and security, quite an eyeopening experience. One of my most vivid memories of my time working with these preschoolers is lunch time, when I would pass out trays of food and eat with my charges. I remember being asked time and time again to identify the food presented. It seemed unfathomable to me that any child should have never before seen nor eaten a piece of cheese or an apple...

The summer of 1967 also began The Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts in my hometown. This festival, now drawing an estimated 125,000 people, began as a way to showcase local art, hung from storm fences set up all along College Avenue, the main street of our university town. The festival served as a gathering event for us high school students, who connected by talking to each other from kitchen telephones outfitted with long cords, which in my case allowed me to slip into a hall closet for more privacy. I cherish a vintage print from that early festival era bought and framed as a Christmas gift for my mother. It hangs in our pantry.

I still walk through the festival, and I still purchase art for gifts. Among those gifts this year were two sets of salad spoons for upcoming wedding showers. I always stop and buy something from Jonathan's Spoons, and I am especially drawn to the flame blackened implements. To go with the spoons and to serve as gift wrap, I knitted up some traditional ball band dishcloths, matched them a set of tea towels and tied them up with satin ribbon.

Ribbed alpaca heat wave

2010-07-07T09:02:00.000-07:00

The temperature is to hit 94 degrees today, the third 90+ day in a Northeast heat wave. It is hardly conceivable that someday it will be cold enough to wrap alpaca wool around my neck, but when that day arrives, I am ready. This scarf, an Ann Budd design found here (along with other neat free pdf patterns), has sat on a pair of number 9 needles for over a year. It feels good to cast it off, block it, and pack it away for a far-in-the-future, cold, Pennsylvania winter.

A Summer Vacation Prayer

2010-07-05T04:37:00.000-07:00

We have returned from our annual Campbell family beach week, and my “other” summer vacation begins…now. As a teacher, I leave my classroom in June, exultant in the expanse of time appearing before me. Interestingly, the word “vacation” comes from an Old French word vacare meaning “be unoccupied.” However for me, summer vacation means to be occupied with other things, pursuits often neglected from September through June….

Oh Lord…
let this summer be a time of
calming, a time to slow down and breathe
clearing of clutter and cobwebs
connecting more deeply with family and friends
restoring inner balance
ordering home and
caring for life
directing energies in other ways
filling up the spiritual and emotional well
knitting, reading, cooking, exercising, and praying more

And may I be less urgent about it all, relishing the pleasure of living fully in each present day. Amen.