By Lynn, on May 13th, 2011%
I was leafing through an old Victoria the other day. I love my Victoria magazines, and every time I think to get rid of them, I think again. Anyway, this hair style caught my eye: the neatness of it and the flower at the side.
And it’s not even a long hair thing. Her hair looks like it might be short. It’s the “romantic” of it. It is the neatness and the coolness and the sophistication of it.
So I set off for the craft table (way across on the other side of the apartment) and started pulling out flowers.
Not quite the same. Not as elegant. But I think that a ribbon with a couple or three flowers hot-glued in place turned out okay! I was happy. I felt quite Victorian. And that, folks, will come in very handy for when I go to England to become a nanny.
Anyway, enough about that.
Now, are you ready for what was in the Goodwill when it screamed out my name? Are you sure? Are you sitting down?
Well, are you?
Are you sure?
There was nothing with flowers, really, but there was something bigger and better!
Lately I had almost given up on finding a sofa for the long half wall in the apartment. I wanted one long enough and firm enough that either of my two oldest boys could sleep on when they came to spend the night. But everything was too expensive. I knew I’d have to wait. And then I kept thinking that if I did find something it would be too big to get in the van.
You won’t be believing this, but the one and only Goodwill I went into yesterday (a different one from the one with the farm table) had this sitting in the back of the store.
Almost as soon as I saw it, I could tell it was a sectional. It was clean. Oh, very clean. It was firm. It was nice. It was $26.99.
WHAT?
I think the reason it was donated and the reason it was so low in price was because of a large tear along the seam of one of the cushions. But it’s along a seam. Anyone who sews knows that that might be repaired! I can probably stitch it up. But since I am covering everything with flowers anyway, why could I not cover it with a large quilt? A yellow, creamy white, and lavender quilt fit over it perfectly. The quilt is king size if that gives you an idea of the size of this sofa. The magic of it was that I could carry it home in pieces. The other magic was that this is the Goodwill closest to my home. Five minutes? Maybe?
I am so grateful. What would life be without little (and sometimes big) surprises to look forward to?
Enjoy this day.
By Lynn, on May 11th, 2011%
Oh, talk to me, talk to me, pillows, blankets, dishes, walls. I am listening!
Hey. Stop for just a minute and look at that yellow bowl. Is there anything material that is prettier? If there is, I cannot find it right now. It is simple. It is vintage. It has purpose. It is covered in flowers.
I rest my case.
I just do not think there can be too many flowers in this place right now. In fact, I am going to keep adding flowers until someone says, “Whoa, Lynn, there’s too many flowers in this place.”
A. I doubt anyone is going to say that.
B. Is it even possible?
C. Talk to the hand because I’m not listening.
Cabbage roses are what get to me the most. Cabbage roses, cabbage roses. What is a cabbage rose anyway? I mean, I thought I knew. To me, it’s the big, voluminous, usually pink rose bloom that would fill up a tea cup and then some. But is that really what it means?
(Lynn gets her 50-pound plant encyclopedia out and looks up cabbage rose. Lynn stumbles in exhaustion and should go to bed. But Lynn is a relentless reporter who knows that all of blogland has come here this evening to find out if they really know what a cabbage rose is.)
Folks, I am so impressed with the information one can find right here on this very blog. And it’s a direct result of a tired woman stumbling across her apartment holding a 50-pound plant encyclopedia. Yessiree, you’ll want to stay tuned in to see what happens next.
So, the cabbage rose is actually Rosa x centifolia, and centifolia literally means 100 petals. I am very proud to tell you that I remembered enough from our metric study in school to know that cent- means 100. I also remember that I was scared to death throughout my entire 5th grade year because our teacher told us that in Europe they used metrics and, in fact, the entire world was going to be switching to metrics, and so we all must learn to convert.
Convert.
Convert?
CONVERT.
It was a dark, long, very bad nightmare, that year was. I knew if I did not learn to convert I would never bake a cake, or read road signs, or be able to measure anything ever again. So basically I would just be a shell of a person while the rest of the world went on with the metric system. I was basically too scared to learn how to convert. I lived in fear that entire 5th grade year and I did not learn how to convert. And I know I should be happy we didn’t switch to metrics in America, because I am able to lead a normal life and blend in, but I am sort of mad. In fact, I am very mad sometimes at that teacher because the United States did not convert to metrics. Because I lost a lot of sleep in the 5th grade wondering what I’d do if I were on a highway and it said the speed limit was 70 kph, and I did not know what that meant, and I converted wrong and was doing like 400 miles an hour and careened off the road into a ravine. All because I could not convert. No. Here in the U.S. we got as far as a 2-liter drink and the whole program ground to a halt. (Or would that be grinded to a halt?)
(The reporting here is amazing.)
Wikipedia says that the cabbage rose is a complex rose. Therefore I am trying to make this post as complex as possible so that you’ll remember forever that the cabbage rose is a complex rose. And do not forget it’s a hybrid rose. With 100 petals. (I think that just means a bunch of petals, for those of you who are very literal.)
It is also called the provence rose. It has been around for several hundred years now. Since, oh, about the 1600s. It is believed that the Dutch developed it. And I am mortally shocked over that because I really thought it would have been someone English. It did become very popular with Dutch and Flemish painters and is even called the “rose of the painters.” It is also popular in Victorian furnishings.
So, in essence, I am going to pack this apartment full of cabbage roses. And tomorrow, while I am out running errands, I am going to keep my ear finely tuned to every Goodwill within a 45-mile radius, and if I hear even a very faint Lynn Wilson come from the Goodwill, I will just assume it’s because something with a flower on it waits inside. And not just any flower, but a rose. And not just any rose, but a complex, hybrid, 100-petal, thought-to-be-Dutch, rose-of-the-painters, highly-fragrant, cabbage rose.
PS — Dear Ms. Cox, the United States did not convert to the Metric System. Just in case you didn’t know that yet.
By Lynn, on April 30th, 2011%
My Dear Friends,
Can it really be four days since I posted? And I was going to post every day! Life is busy, though, and I find myself needing naps. I suppose that’s normal. I have also continued to weed out STUFF, taking almost daily trips to the dumpster, Goodwill or the consignment shop. So therapeutic this is. I cannot even tell you how good it feels.
It’s feeling like home here, and I find myself adapting, which brings about inner change. Life is just that way. Our minds and our bodies respond to our surroundings. We encounter new things. Maybe we like them, maybe we do not, but there’s suddenly a new normal.
Annie is loving it here.
She sprawls out on the floor with her deer antler and chews. And chews. And chews.
It’s a sight to behold. Did I say already that Annie is my baby and that she is the spoiled rotten fatso beagle of the universe?
Finally, after a prolonged photo shoot, she wonders what I am doing and she stands up to look at me. Go back to your antler, Annie.
I have continued to put new little touches around the apartment. Pictures of family members sit atop a round table that came from the old house (it’s a garden table) and makes a perfect end table for the loveseat.
Some things make me sad, like glimpsing something Michaela and I were in the middle of for homeschool and will likely never finish. Do you remember our Prairie Tuesdays? We started our nature plates back then and still pull them out sometimes to reminisce. I am so thankful for the years we had together homeschooling.
It has been a beautiful day here. Fresh baked cookies, which I cannot partake of, but John and Michaela enjoyed them. Sunshine so bright it was hard to see the computer screen! All of our clothes washed, dried, folded and put away. A new collection of farm charms for the shop.
Enjoy this day.
By Lynn, on April 26th, 2011%
My Dear Friends,
There was a bountiful harvest this morning, fresh from The Tame Little Garden.
Now. I could tell a big fib and say I grew the bananas and the strawberries in my office, but I bet someone would see right through that. So I’m gonna stick to the truth and tell you that I grew only the chives.
Yes, the chives came with me from the old garden, The Little Wild Garden, a little garden that has a lot of me in it–a lot of my sweat, dreams and some of my heart. And many creatures that I encouraged to take up residence there. These chives started as babes, were separated and planted in pots, ready to sell at the farmer’s market, but that’s a thing of the past. Now, I have two pots of chives in my bright office window.
Did you know that chives belong to the onion genus, or Allium? The “hot” smelling oil in these plants contains sulphur, which is a good germ fighter. Chives have not traditionally been used as heavily medicinally as onions and garlic, simply because they do not have as much of this oil. Still, it’s there, and in The Tame Little Garden, chives are my sulphur-rich herbs.
I love that I can grow chives inside. It’s one herb that will do okay inside. They do need full sun, so they need a very sunny window, and they like to be used. Leaf blades can be cut down to about 1 inch from the soil and used in soups, salads, as garnish. When cold weather arrives, it’s best to put the pots outside and let the foliage be killed back by the frost. Bring them in again and they’ll come back out.
In other news, a name for my little cottage is still floating around in my mind. I worked out at the gym again tonight, and last night, so that’s three nights in a row, folks! What are we going to do with me? My my my!
The gym had several people already there when we got there tonight. Sometimes Michaela and I have the gym quite to ourselves, but then sometimes there’s lot of people there. Tonight, actually, there was a very pretty, trim, fit, muscular, (did I say pretty?) lady on the treadmill, and she had on real workout clothes. I was dressed in high-water gray sweats, bright pink Valentine’s day socks, and an assortment of T-shirts and tank tops. Thank goodness the tanktop was long. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that. Except that I was also wearing my running shoes from 1987. But I did smile. Yes, you can always wear a smile. No matter what else you happen to have on. And just for the record, she had a smile on too. And so did her male exercise partner. I didn’t pay much attention to his clothes. Mostly because I figured if I didn’t pay much attention to his clothes he wouldn’t pay much attention to mine. At that particular moment, I felt like I’d be more comfortable if I also had a poncho on (for obvious reasons) but that might just attract more attention, so I crossed that thought out of my mind and went on riding on my exercise bike like I was there all the time, and where had they been, by the way.
Have I ever told you how much I like having a public blog on which to pour out thoughts and ramble on?
On that note, I shall depart to my bedroom chamber and take up where I left off in my book, which is a secret book until I decide to tell you all about it.
I hope you enjoyed this day.
By Lynn, on April 25th, 2011%
Symbolic? Perhaps. It could easily represent the splitting up of a marriage, but we are not going to look at it that way. No. We really are not. However, the symbolism was not lost on me as I cut up a duvet cover over the weekend and made curtains for my large office widow.
I had been wondering what to do about curtains. The blinds are nice, I guess. They get pulled up each morning, let down around noon but set to let in light, closed completely when the sun is the hottest, pulled back up when dusk arrives, then closed at darkness. I wanted something pretty from the inside and the outside. Something billowly, with color, but also something that would let in light.
Not enough money. No. I scoured the thrift stores. Nothing big enough. Not enough that matched. Tuesday Morning had discounted draperies, but still too much. Still too much. Then I remembered a duvet cover going to waste back at the old house. It has been folded up, waiting.
I remembered the tabs for tying the cover closed. “Perfect for curtains!“
I love the look of them. Sort of shabby. Sort of country. A bit English countryside. Maybe? Be still my heart.
Anyway, I walked outside to take a look, and when closed, they look like a stained glass window. Oh my. Perfect.
I’d much rather pull a curtain panel than lift blinds all day. Besides, who doesn’t like a stained glass window?
So there you have it! An idea for your old duvet covers.
Expect a new name for our apartment cottage soon. We cannot be going around without a name, and Sage Bunny Cottage just doesn’t work anymore. But I have an idea in mind. Or maybe two.
Must run. Lots to do. Working today, enjoying my billowy new curtains. Enjoying the soreness of muscles that worked out at the gym last night! Yes I did!! Michaela made me do it, and I am so grateful to that little gem of a girl. We’ll be going (hopefully, fingers crosed, stick a needle in my eye), every day.
Enjoy this day!
By Lynn, on February 9th, 2011%
My dear readers, I was thankful for lovely words in my mind upon getting up this morning.
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there by any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. (Phil 4:8)
Good for copywork, I think.
Yesterday the weather here was really nice.
I took a walk in The Little Wild Garden. I admired Faithful, our dogwood, realizing that I have not journaled about her again and that I need to. Coming soon to a blog near you.
Much to my delight, there were snowdrops in bloom around the goldfish pond. Aren’t they sweet little flowers! I wandered over to see if the hellebores showed any signs of blooming. There is new growth, but no sign of a bloom yet.
The sun was so bright! The air was warm enough to turn the fountain on for the goldfish. My goldfish pond does not have a heater, so if it’s too cold (think ice) I can’t turn the pump on to run the water that climbs up through the fountain and runs back down. I do love that splashing sound.
The birdseed fills the feeder that hangs, of course, from Faithful’s branches. (Note to self: Journal soon about your dogwood. ) The birds make me happy while I’m typing.
I consoled myself (over the fact that here it is cold February, which sometimes can get a person down) knowing that there will soon be daffodils in bloom in The Little Wild Garden. The little neighbor girls will ask if they can have one.
I’ll say, “Yes, take two.”
They’ll make us all very happy.
Finally, friends, it is quite the chore keeping enough food for a crowd. Remind me. Is six a crowd? I thought so.
Anyway, I’ve been buying the organic broccoli that’s on sale locally and keeping it cut up for dipping in Newman’s Own Ranch Dressing (I could drink that stuff). I hate throwing out the broccoli stems, and yet they are rather tough and not as delicious as the crowns for dipping. I decided to cut them into chunks and then run them through the food processor with some sweet onion. Used in a recipe I have for broccoli quiche, with venison sausage, oh my did it turn out lovely! I went ahead and made four of them, because three boys gathered around the table can eat one whole quiche as a “snack.”
Broccoli Quiche – Meant to make one deep dish quiche
Pastry or shell for deep dish pie shell
1 to 1-1/3 cups half and half (I use 2% milk)
6 oz sharp cheddar cheese, grated
4 oz swiss cheese, grated
6 eggs, beaten until frothy
1 bunch fresh broccoli — steamed and chopped
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/2 cup chopped cooked meat (in my case, venison sausage)
Combine all ingredients. Pour into uncooked pie shell(s). Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until done.
Now, I doubled this recipe, using only 12 eggs, 2-2/3 cups of milk, only cheddar cheese (no swiss)–and probably more of it than called for as far as cheese in total, and lots of venison sausage. It came out fine. I made four regular pie crust sized quiches (not four deep dish). The point is, I think this recipe can be altered quite a bit. You just need to have enough egg (and milk/moisture) to hold whatever else you’re putting in. Twelve eggs for four regular pie crusts worked out well, but I did have the added moisture of probably a cup and a half of broccoli and sweet onion for two of them.
Anyway, I am thankful today for food and the fact that I can easily walk, even, to a local fresh market and get good things.
I’m working on my goal to have 10 new things in the shop by the end of the day.
Enjoy this day.
By Lynn, on February 7th, 2011%
It is true, dear readers, that happiness must be cultivated. It’s not a thing to be taken lightly nor something that we should assume just “comes naturally” for some people. Happiness is our version of the memories that we have. Happiness is finding joy in not only what we love to do but what we must do. I speak as an authority, but really I’m a product still in the works when it comes to, as they say, “taking joy.” Still, I like to think I’ve climbed at least a few rungs on the ladder.
Let’s take a peek at The Little Wild Garden on this winter morning.
I used to think I’d settle down with land. Or at least a few acres? Or an acre, even? No. I have a postage stamp yard. During the first few years of my marriage I looked beyond my own fence (I really don’t even have a fence) and pined away for something bigger and better and prettier. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s okay to dream. But we are where we are and we’ve got what we’ve got, and as I like to say, there’s one great equalizer: We all only have today. I am thankful that at some point I grabbed contentment by the tail, at least in the area of my own yard, and turned my yard into the most that I can make out of it.
I now say, dear little yard, you have become The Little Wild Garden. You have creatures and herbs and birds singing. You are all I could want and more. Many of us may be waiting for the day when we have more (insert word of choice here), but for now maybe we can find a way to love what we have.
So there you’ve had it. My speech for the day. Could it be that it’s Monday and I have to work six hours this afternoon, and I am holding on with all my might to contentment’s tail? I am looking for joy in duty, realizing that there’s a certain nobility that comes from doing what one must do. Besides, I can dream up more brooch pins and dolls while I type away.
Late in the evenings, when the house gets quiet as a mouse, I work on my pins. I put classical music on and get lost in cutting and twisting wire, poring over beads and looking through images.
My goal is to have 10 new things in the shop by Wednesday morning. I have also finally learned how to get giclees printed from my mixed media collages and paintings, so hopefully I will be able to offer them in the shop soon too. Fun, fun.
Well, it’s time to take the shopping basket and head to the local grocery. I am thinking a large pan of roasted-in-the-oven vegetables for supper. Potatoes, carrots, squash, onions, rutabaga–did I spell that right?, and maybe some brussel sprouts. With olive oil, salt and spices, should go well with venison and brown rice. (Thanks, mom, for the ideas on eating more vegetables.)
Enjoy this day!
By Lynn, on February 4th, 2011%
Being caught up on my lesson posting and having two loads of my clothes hung out to dry.
Week #23 (01/31 – 02/04/2011)
Saxon 53, 54
Math drill sheets
Violin practice daily
Violin lesson
02/03 FIAR Beyond co-op — periodic table of elements; pollution
Betsy Tacy chapter 8
Thomas Edison Young Inventor chapters 5, 6
Copywork #26
Wrote some original nursery rhymes!
Completed entry for this
Rabbit care
Journal writing
By Lynn, on February 1st, 2011%
Lately I’ve gone back to separating my house up into so many rooms per day for my weekly cleaning. Yesterday I cleaned the kitchen and the hallway (which includes the staircase and the landing upstairs). Today it’ll be the living room and the den. Tomorrow will be the carpenter’s bathroom, which doubles as the laundry room (sort of), the mudroom, and the master bedroom. Thursday will be the upstairs bathroom and the pantry. And so on and so on, until the house is cleaned.
I plan to stay on this cleaning schedule at least until March, to get rid of some clutter and also to get the house really clean in time for the gardening season, at which point I can disappear behind a pile of mulch and pretend like I don’t hear the desperate calls coming from the house for food and clean clothes.
Seedlings will emerge, the days will lengthen, bursts of color will fill my yard and my mind, until finally fall will be here and my house will be full of cobwebs and dirt tracks (from me tracking through the house in dirty garden clothes) and I will live in an overwhelmed state of panic, dread, and probably a lot of standing and staring, until finally I realize, after a long winter of eating too much, that I probably should go on the so-many-rooms-per-day cleaning schedule so that I can be ready for spring.
And so life goes on. And on and on and on. A sane person might say, “What’s the point?” and just decide that cleaning is not worth it, and neither is gardening for that matter, and just give up the domestic ghost and live in a sea of crumbs. So what if there’s a week’s worth of food on anyone’s clothes? Does it matter?
Oh, but it does! There’s something good about working and cleaning and taking care of things. There’s something to being domestic and finding joy in polishing wood and spraying down countertops. There is good in raising children to put things away. (Even if I have one errant child. But let’s save that for another post. Okay?)
I surfed around some yesterday reading about domesticity and raising little homemakers. All I’ll say is that it can be overwhelming to try to achieve another person’s concept of domestic perfection, but I think we can all appreciate the wonderfulness of doing one thing thoroughly and then standing back to admire it. So I pried Michaela away from the animal rescue videos she was watching and we went into the kitchen together and happily began to clean.
We sprayed down cabinets and counters with water infused with grapefruit essential oil. We soaped up four cleaning rags from the “rag box” and put them under our bare feet and skated around the kitchen floor until it was smooth and shiny (as shiny as old can be).
We stopped to dance in circles at one point at which Annie barked and jumped with excitement. I called a halt to the festivities at a reasonable interval, reminding Michaela that we’ll be back in the kitchen next Monday, so let’s not go crazy.
I went to bed content that the two rooms on my list got cleaned–well, clean enough to mark off the list–and my daughter learned a touch about routines and being a little homemaker. (I’m not sure why, but Frank Sinatra’s ”I did it my way,” is playing in the back of my mind.)
The air was full of a clean citrus smell that even Michaela noticed and appreciated. My oldest son remarked on how good the floor felt. (Obviously my children have something to compare to!) A Japanese-looking lantern sat in the upstairs window, flickering with a cinnamon candle, sending out a warm signal to passersby, at least I hope, that this is a home much loved and lived in. We may not be domestic perfection, but we are happy and alive and trying.
By Lynn, on January 27th, 2011%
Even though this is cooked in a large dish, about 12 x 16 inches, I call it a pot pie because it’s topped with a biscuit-type crust.
- about 1.5 pounds ground venison sausage, browned (season to taste with salt, pepper, and garlic powder, if you like)
- 1 can green beans, drained
- 1 can corn, drained
- 1 can sweet green peas, drained
- 2 jars Ragu alfredo sauce
- about 1/2 a Ragu jar of water
Mix above ingredients right into the baking dish. Cover with bread topping mixture.
Topping
- 1 stick butter melted
- 2 cups all purpose flour
- 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 2 cups milk
Whisk topping until blended. Pour evenly over meat and vegetables.
Bake at 375 degrees for about 40 minutes. Switch oven to broil and let the top brown for about a minute or so. Watch closely so it doesn’t burn!
Just wanted to share, for those of you who have hunter husbands. May seem fattening, I know, but I don’t always do pot-pies with alfredo sauce.  It’s a thing I keep on hand for the nights when I have no idea what to do! And this topping makes a great topping for any large casserole. I use it with chicken and beef as well.
Enjoy this day!
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About Lynn 
Approaching-50 mother of four. Thrifter. Content with lots of clothes bought for very little money. Loves retro. (That could be styles from the 40s and 50s. And sometimes stuff even older than that. And sometimes stuff from all time, all mixed up together!) Bluffs about decluttering but secretly loves STUFF. Goes through stages. Has standing and staring spells before rearranging the entire home. Just because. Tune in each day to see what new outfit comes home from G.W. Boutique next. (That's Goodwill, by the way.) Oh, and she owns a spoiled beagle named Annie. And this blog.
Grab A Button <div align="center"><a href="http://www.amothersjournal.com" title="A Mother's Journal ~ A Bit of Birdsong"><img src="http://www.innatelygray.com/images/abitofbirdsong_120_200.jpg" alt="A Mother's Journal ~ A Bit of Birdsong" style="border:none;" /></a></div> The Players
Lil Ol' Me
Son Daniel, 23
Son, Big Joe, 21
Son, John, 17
Daughter, Michaela, 13
Annie Fatso Beagle
My Symphony
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never. In a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.
William Henry Channing
1810-1884
What You Do Sow a thought, reap an action.
Sow an action, reap a habit.
Sow a habit, reap a character.
Sow a character, reap a destiny.
Contact Me 
I would  for you to leave a comment, but you can also e-mail me at lynn AT thehealthyhomeschool.com
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