Summer Splendor...

I suppose my YOPing buddies may be thinking about now that I've flown the coop!  Truth is, I'm working on crocheting some gifts, but I don't want to show them here before they are received.  

But taking a break recently from the gift-making, I decided to make something for myself - just so I could jump back into the YOP group with something to show for my absence.

I can't seem to get enough of the doily called Summer Splendor (by Denise Augostine Owens), as this is my fifth one!  

I'm chomping at the bit for autumn, so making this in the deep orange-y color, Papaya, seemed appropriate.

And that's all I've got on the crafty front - that I can show for now.  I've been thinking of taking stock of all my unfinished projects and maybe start giving some progress reports on them, but that seems like creating a job for myself.  And the last thing I want is to turn my hobby into a job...

I hope you're enjoying these last weeks of summer.  It's pretty nice and green here in central Indiana, as we were spared the worst of the rains that this part of the U.S. got almost two weeks ago, and had no flooding to speak of in this area. Prayers go out for those who are still cleaning up from those record floods.

Jack ...

We lost a friend a week ago, and while emotions have normalized, the first few days after Jack died, my heart felt like it was broken into a hundred pieces.

Jack was 96 years old.  He'd only a few months ago given up driving, but he'd been steadily failing in health since his wife, Ruth, passed two years ago.  We watched the decline.  I told myself to count each encounter as precious, and I did, but now I feel I didn't have nearly enough of those precious encounters.

Early in the summer, when we learned Jack went into Hospice care, I enlisted the prayers of my Bible study friends to pray for Jack's comfort and peace in whatever days he had left.

After Jack passed, one of those friends asked me how we knew Jack.  It was a pleasure to tell her, and I've decided to record it here.

From 2016-2020, I was a very part-time companion caregiver for Jack's wife, Ruth.  The story of how I came to be Ruth's caregiver is in this compilation of things that I've been up to in my "retirement".  And I've written a few times about days spent with Ruth that can all be found here.

Ruth had mild dementia at the time, and needed someone to be with her when Jack wasn't home.  When Ruth's regular caregiver was going on vacation in 2016, she contacted me and asked me if I would be interested in filling in for her.    

While I knew the other caregiver (through a Bible study I'd attended for years by that time), I really couldn't quite understand why she had asked me to fill in for her.  But after a long conversation, I finally said yes.  And that began an enrichment in my life I never could have imagined.

Ruth continued to play the organ and piano for a number of years after dementia began to steal her memories.  Sometimes we played duets, Ruth on the organ, me on the piano playing with one hand, trying to keep up.

While I had conversations with Jack during the years I cared for Ruth, I mostly got to know him through conversations with Ruth.  While Ruth's short-term memory was nearly nonexistent, her long-term memory was largely intact.  And because Ruth would forget a conversation shortly after having it, I got to hear the stories many times.

I learned that as a young serviceman in the Navy, Jack used a two-week leave to attend a residential Bible study in another state.  There he met Ruth, and I can only imagine how quickly they fell in love.  In Jack's last months he joked that he wasn't sure if he had paid for Ruth's meals when he took her out during that time.

Jack and Ruth married.  In time, they adopted a son, and had two daughters that they raised in Illinois.  Ruth told me often how they took in an aging aunt, building a room onto their house for her to live there.  According to Ruth, Aunt Di helped with the children, and she enjoyed the safety and comfort of a loving family. 

Jack built an auto repair business, and eventually sold it.  In his "retirement", Jack and Ruth decided to relocate nearer their daughters, and they moved to our little town in Indiana about 22 years ago.  After moving here, Jack worked at a funeral home, served as a church elder, enjoyed playing basketball, taking cruises with Ruth (they especially loved Bill Gaither cruises, I think).  Since I came to know Jack and Ruth late in their lives, I don't know anywhere close to what all Jack did in the 86 years before we met, but what I am confident of is that he and Ruth both lived full and faithful lives.

When I met Jack in 2016, it was obvious even to me that he had slowed down significantly from his younger years.   He was still working at the funeral home.  He was a joke teller extraordinaire, and he often treated people to dinner.  We (and many other friends of Jack) were invited a number of times to have dinner at the Hibachi Grill at the assisted living community where Jack and Ruth had built their retirement home.

When Ruth required full time nursing care, Greg began to become friends with Jack.  They, and a couple of other men had regular breakfasts together (or maybe it was that Greg joined the already existing "breakfast club").   Jack had quite a social life.  It seemed to me he met someone for breakfast, lunch or dinner almost every day.  In fact, the morning after Ruth died, Greg and some of these men had their regularly scheduled breakfast date with Jack at the diner they frequented.  

Speaking of the diner - Jack was such a beloved regular there, the waitresses gave him a birthday cake and gifts when we gathered there with other friends for his 96th birthday in May.  In fact, Greg introduced Jack to the whole diner and asked them to join us in singing Happy Birthday to him.  It was quite a sound that rang out, and several came up to Jack as they were leaving to thank him for his military service. It was such a fun and sweet celebration.

My apologies for turning the camera upside down at the end of the video above.

Over the summer, Greg and I visited with Jack (each of us separately, usually) and because talking had become difficult for him, we just spent quiet time with him. 

There were a few points while in Hospice care that Jack gained some strength, and he was able to drive a scooter in the halls of the assisted living center he had recently moved into.  When he felt up to it, he enjoyed going to the dining room or bistro.   

Truth is, though, Jack lost his appetite many months ago, and by the time Jack was in Hospice care, he was eating only a few bites each day.  But if he felt up to going to the dining room or bistro, he enjoyed meeting friends there.

It was my deep honor to be able to spend some time alone with Jack, as it turned out, the day before he died.  He couldn't talk, and mostly he slept, but when he opened his eyes, he gave me the gift of looking at me, and letting me know he knew who I was.  His hand squeezing mine as he drifted back to sleep was another precious gift. When Greg came in a little later, he woke up again, and it was clear he knew who Greg was too. 

It was my plan with Jack's daughters that I would also spend some time on Thursday with Jack.  I was honored to be asked.  I was looking forward to spending more time with him, when I got the text close to midnight Wednesday night that Jack had passed.

Just like that.  It was over.  No more visits.  No more Jack jokes.  For Jack, no more missing Ruth, no more breathing struggles. No more lonely hours.  As many people as there are who loved Jack, and even with daughters deeply devoted to caring for their father, there were undoubtedly many lonely hours missing Ruth.

Everything about my relationship and friendship with Ruth and then Jack feels like a gift. I feel changed by those two people.  And I am so grateful for it.

My faith instructs me that we will meet again someday, and I am looking forward to it.  Today, there is a hole in the shape of these two beautiful friends that I navigate around as I do everyday things. I'm waiting for the disappointed feelings to fade as I pass the corner where I would turn to enter their retirement neighborhood to visit. 

So many life lessons, I expect, are yet to be discovered because of viewing life now through the prism of Jack and Ruth's influence.  

I think it's fair to say, Jack and Ruth lived their lives generously, humble and true to their Christian faith, never imagining how deeply they were leaving their mark on this earth and in many hearts. 

Goodbye for now, friends.  Until we "meet again on that beautiful shore".

Midsummer garden update...

Technically, the middle of summer is almost two weeks away, but I've been hearing the term mid-summer for a couple of weeks now, and my mind has become decidedly focused on the slow downhill slide into autumn.  

Today, is a glimpse of my midsummer garden - as it's getting a reset.

This was my garden mid-June, and is one of only two pictures I took of my corn (it's in the back - on the right half of photo):

While there were lots of weeds in the foreground (above) there was so much hope growing already.

Around 50 stalks of corn came up, and they looked so pretty.  The grass at the base of the corn stalks above got out of hand fast and eventually took over the area.  I figured I'd deal with it after harvesting the corn.

It seems it was a few weeks ago that I got two ears of corn - one good and one tasty enough, but not well pollinated.

And then the raccoons found the corn.  And for the last couple of weeks, nearly every day one or two stalks at a time were taken down and immature tasteless cobs of corn were found ripped into, nibbled...  and then abandoned, uneaten:

After four or five walks of shame from the garden to the firepit, carrying one or two newly broken stalks, I decided I'd had enough.  

It wouldn't have been so bad if the racoons had waited until the corn was mature and tasty, and had given me half a chance to get to it first.  I think I could have found it in me to congratulate them for beating me to most of it, appreciating how much they they enjoyed it.  

But the waste of ruined, uneaten ears of corn was too much. I began to regret every day that I had devoted so much space to corn.

Last week ended with four beautiful days (lows in the 50's, high temps in the mid-70's).  I seized the opportunity and spent a good part of three of those days in the garden.  First, pulling what remained of the corn stalks, then pulling what had become a carpet of tall grass that had grown amongst the stalks and sweet potato vines and a few rogue sunflowers.

Then the newly bare spaces were replanted with quick growing bush beans and zucchini, as well as some autumn loving plants - more peas, cauliflower, cabbage, turnips, kohlrabi, broccoli, brussels sprouts, carrots...

...trying to strategize using shady areas provided by sunflowers and a nearby tree during the heat of mid-day.

More crabgrass that will just have to wait for another day to be dug out:  

I had such good intentions of mulching the whole garden to keep weeds at bay, but time got away from me, and then it got hot.  Crabgrass has become my nemesis this summer.

Meanwhile, the tomato plants have remained fairly small, but they are producing some nice-looking fruit:  

Same for the pepper plants.

Blauhilde beans have been producing pretty purple blossoms, but so far no pretty purple beans:

Kohlrabi planted early in the spring has been getting big enough to pull and eat:

In the foreground above, are more Dragon Tongue beans I planted a couple of weeks ago.

And two okra plants appear to be thriving:

...along with the crabgrass.

And lastly, the Kajari melon plants have been blooming for a couple of weeks:

 

I keep searching the vines, but so far I've only found one little nubbin of a melon that has started:

I'm trying to not give in to the nagging feeling that racoons are going to go after my Kajari before I have a chance to see them to maturity...

There's more work to be done to take the garden through the rest of the summer and into the fall, but now that it's heating back up, that work will be likely only be done in morning or evening spurts as I have time and motivation.  I know I shouldn't wish time away, but I am soooo looking forward to cooler autumn weather.

While I'm able and desire to do it, I keep reminding myself that the garden is a hobby and good exercise.  While my knee is a tiny bit sore today, my glutes and hamstrings seem to have largely recovered from all the up and down last week while pulling weeds.

At the moment, I take great pleasure that at least half of the garden is weeded and looking good.  I think the first item of business (tomorrow) is to get some more mulch out there to cover up that pretty bare soil. 

~~~~~

Another small finish this week...

I've actually made this little doily before.  Twice in fact, and they've been given away.  Always wanting one for myself in this pretty green color, I made a third one.

I've been asked from time to time about blocking doilies, so I'm going to discuss the process, with before and after pictures.

Admittedly, this isn't the most wrinkly doily I've made, but you can see how the corners curl up and some of the picots are a bit stunted. It just isn't as nice in this unblocked state as it will be blocked:

I soak the doily in running tap water, and then saturate it with spray starch, crumpling and squeezing the sopping wet doily to work starch into the fibers.  Then I roll it up in a towel, and squeeze most of the water (and probably starch) out of it.  The above is actually how it looked after going through that process.  

I'm trying to use up this very old can of spray starch that I brought home from my mother-in-law's home five years ago:

I can't quite decipher the code, but I'm curious if anyone wants to take a guess as to how old this can of starch is: 

After all that, the doily gets pinned on a foam mat to dry overnight:

Yes, that is a lot of pins.  And this is just a 5 1/2" doily. You  can imagine how many more pins a large doily takes.  

The way to block a doily is to begin in the center, working one's way out.  Generally, (and especially as I get further out from the center), I try to pin on opposite sides of the doily to achieve as even a shape as possible.  I'll try explaining like this:  I pin one point of a leaf, then turn the whole thing around and pulling the doily taut, I pin the pointed leaf on the opposite side.  Then I'll pin another point a quarter of the way around, and the next pin will go into the point opposite of that.  Each little picot around the outside edge has a pin dedicated to it.

Once it's dry, all those pins come out, and the result is a prettily formed doily.  In case you're wondering, this doily isn't stiff (even using "heavy" starch), but it does have body and will hold its shape until it's washed, or gets wet again for some reason.

If it were to get crumpled up or creased somehow, I would put it flat in a folded towel and using a steam iron press it flat again.  If you ever bring home a musty old doily from a flea market, or grandma's attic, I recommend washing it by hand, then using my steps above, block it.  Or you might try pressing it in a towel like I explained above.  Picots may not come out perky, but I'd think the doily would at least lay flat.

Doily # 8 from the book, 99 Little Doilies.  

I've dubbed this one "Elm Leaves".

Some colors are just weird...

While I'm working on some projects in the background that I won't be able to show for a while, I decided to give myself a break from a somewhat complicated pattern and crochet another small, quick doily.  This may be how it goes for a little while.  And Marsha, I'm not working on a Hiddleston doily.  I'm still not quite confident enough to tackle one of those.

All I have to show today is a humble 5 1/2" doily named #29. 

But first, here is a picture of how #29 was presented in the book, 99 Little Doilies:

It's okay... Very unassuming.  Honestly, I had written "meh" beside the doily number on the record I'm keeping of this long-term project, with the intention that I'd probably never make it.

But I decided to look on Ravelry for what other people have done with Doily #29.  I thought I was just looking for pretty colors, but someone decided to take a different approach to blocking it, and I didn't have to think twice before following suit:

Are we all in agreement that this is so much better than the original?

Now for a little experiment with trying to photograph it...

The crochet thread I'm using is Artiste in the color, Antique. It's not a particularly pretty color.  A kind of dutsy mauve is the most generous way I can come up with in describing it.

A picture I pulled from Hobby Lobby's website:

This is it at home outside in the natural light:

Pulling the camera back, this is it (top center) next to three neutrals:

Honestly, it's not nearly as pretty, or pink as it appears in any of the pictures here. Truth be told, I only bought it because 1) it was inexpensive and being discontinued, and 2) I kind of felt sorry for it.  Along with feeling sorry for it, I imagined it might crochet up prettier than it spools up.

What I didn't quite bargain for is that in person, the color totally depends on the lighting, and the surface it's laying on.

So, like I did with another doily a few weeks ago, I photographed the same doily in the same room, next to the same windows, just minutes apart, on different table tops.  The difference in how my phone camera picked up the color is crazy.

Neither one of these is bad.  But neither one is true, either. The first picture (just above) is truer in its coloring, but it's not quite that pretty of a pink.  Clearly, this color is going to do whatever it likes, whenever it likes. I can only imagine how long the designer looked at the color before giving up and simply called it Antique.  Antique is a hard name to argue with for such an odd color that in person looks old and dusty.

Not sure what I'll ever use it for again, but for now it goes into the bin of other threads!