London Roads

I brought an English Trifle to yesterday’s party. It was either a success or everyone was too polite to tell me otherwise. The other dishes were equally British: Pork Pie, Roast Beef, Toad-in-the-Hole, Eccles Cake and Coronation Chicken. It was fun to watch crowds of people around Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace. Many of them had been there since long before dawn just to catch a glimpse of the bride and groom. Outlandish hats were the order of the day. The silliest one was probably Princess Beatrice’s. I would have thought wearing no hat at all would be preferable. But I heard several complaints about the Prime Minister’s wife who did just that. I made this block in honor of yesterday’s packed London streets. I didn’t realize until I’d finished it that I’d made it going in the wrong direction. Oh well. If that doesn’t explain why I don’t drive here, nothing will.

Wedding Ring

Prince William and Kate Middleton will be married today at Westminster Abbey. I wasn’t invited to the wedding. But I was invited to my neighbor’s house for tea, and to watch the grand event on the telly. The English don’t have a word for pot luck, but that’s essentially what it will be. I was asked to bring something British. All week I’ve been puzzling over what to make. Victoria Sponge? Bakewell Tarts? My experiments with Eaton Mess and Summer Pudding were less than satisfactory, and I’m frankly afraid to try Banoffee Pie or Spotted Dick. I’ve got a lovely trifle bowl. I could whip up a nice English Trifle. For a while I’d settled on little cupcakes wearing red, white and blue Union Jack papers. But one of my neighbors said, “Cupcakes? They’re rather more American, aren’t they?” Maybe I should have called them fairy cakes.

Friendship Chain

When we contemplated moving to England, I thought I had an idea of what our lives would be like. I’d find swimming and violin lessons for Heather. I’d join a theatre group or handbell choir. I'd pick up quilting supplies at a charming little shop on the edge of town. Things haven’t turned out the way I’d imagined. Violin teachers are very scarce. The only pool in town is expensive and difficult. English handbell choirs are practically extinct in England. Theatre groups do perform here, but they don’t rehearse in town. That charming quilt shop closed its doors weeks before we arrived. But there have been pleasant surprises. The biggest one is our church quilting group. We meet monthly to sew and chat. I’ve made several good friends among these amazing women, and I’ve learned so much from them. When we do move back to the States, I’ll miss them all very much.

Centennial Block

Today is the 117th day of 2011, and this is the 100th quilt block I’ve pieced and posted so far. I’m rather pleased with my results. A few of these 100 blocks are already set into quilt tops and waiting to be quilted. I have setting plans for several more, and I’m looking for just the right fabric to turn into sashing, snowball blocks or borders. Some of the finished quilts will lie on beds or hang on walls in my home. Some will become gifts for family and friends. Some more will be donated to wounded soldiers or cancer patients. Some ugly, orphaned blocks are probably destined to become P.I.G.S. (projects in grocery sacks) that lurk in closets and other dark places in my home. But it’s easy to forget a few U.F.O.s (Unfinished Fabric Objects) when you’re busy admiring the things you have accomplished.

Tulips

John and I saw first saw Yorkshire March 17, 2009. This place is beautiful all year long, but in spring it really shines. Spring starts early here with snowdrops and crocuses in late February. By the time the crocuses fade there are daffodils everywhere. Last autumn I planted 50 daffodil bulbs; a variety pack that promised to bloom pink and white. I’ve been trying to achieve pink and white daffodils for thirty years, and this year I’ve actually done it. I suspect it has something to do with the acidic soil. Where the soil is basic, flowers are more likely to come out in warmer colors. Now the daffodils have been replaced by tulips, cherry blossoms and rhododendrons. We bought 20 black tulip bulbs in Amsterdam last week, and planted them as soon as we got home. If only one of them survives, it will have been worth the work.

Turkey Tracks

To “talk turkey” means to get down to business; to deal seriously with an issue. Stand-up comic Mitch Hedberg says he hates turkey. “If you stand in the meat section at the grocery store long enough, you start to get mad at turkeys. There’s turkey ham, turkey bologna, turkey pastrami. Someone needs to tell the turkey, ‘man, just be yourself.’” California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger says he loves Thanksgiving turkey, because “it’s the only time in Los Angeles you see natural breasts.” The Hints from Heloise lady (her parents named her Kiah Michelle) says, “Don’t assume you’re always going to be understood. I wrote in a column that one should put a cup of liquid in the cavity of a turkey when roasting it. Someone wrote me that ‘the turkey tasted great, but the plastic cup melted.’” Apparently it’s hard to be serious when talking ABOUT turkey.

Easter Basket

He is risen! He is risen! Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days prison; let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered, man is free. Christ has won the victory.

Come with high and holy hymning. Chant our Lord’s triumphant lay.
Not one darksome cloud is dimming yonder glorious morning ray.
Breaking o’er the purple east, symbol of our Easter feast.

He is risen! He is risen! He hath opened heaven’s gate.
We are free from sin’s dark prison Risen to a holier state.
And a brighter Easter beam on our longing eyes shall stream.
 -  Cecil Frances Alexander, 1818 to 1895

Cross and Crown

There is a green hill far away without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified who died to save us all.
We may not know, we cannot tell what pains he had to bear,
But we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there.
There was no other good enough to pay the price of sin,
He only could unlock the gate of heaven and let us in.
O dearly, dearly has he loved! And we must love him too
And trust in his redeeming blood, and try his works to do.
- Cecil Fances Alexander, 1818 to 1895

Maple Leaf

When we first moved to England we were surprised to see how many of the locals mistook us for Canadians. At first we thought they were confused by our Midwestern accents. After all, they’ve heard a lot of East Coast and West Coast American accents, on television and in the movies. It wouldn’t take a professor in linguistics to notice that we don’t sound like either end of our country. They’d also easily rule out Australia and New Zealand, and must have arrived at Canada by default. But during our second year here one of our friends set us straight. “They’re not sure which country you’re from,” he said. “If they call a Canadian an American, he might get mad. But if they call an American Canadian, he might actually be flattered. They’re just trying to be as tactful as possible.” Ah. Mystery solved.

Union Jack

I’ve been wanting to make a small quilt that looks like the British flag. I saw one last summer in a vendor’s booth at the Birmingham Quilt Show. It was a wall hanging in muted reds, blues and creams. It looked to me as if it had been made using a Moda Rural Jardin jelly roll. I really should have stopped at the booth and asked if they sold a kit or a pattern to make that quilt. But there were so many people and so much more to see. I assumed I could find a pattern online, but it hasn’t happened yet. Anyway, I was playing around with a pencil, a ruler and graph paper yesterday and came up with this rectangular block. I think I’ll add borders and make it a table runner. And maybe I’ll get a second chance at the wall hanging pattern in Birmingham this August.

Waltzing Together

A good vacation leaves you more relaxed. The best vacations inspire you long after you come home. I like trips involving nice restaurants because they have a positive effect on the meals I prepare later. I’m not likely to produce Beef Wellington any time soon, but I’ve come up with a recipe for Herbed Dinner Rolls that’s almost as good as the ones at Disneyland’s Blue Bayou. This week I’ll try to duplicate the Beef Bourguignon and Cauliflower Cheddar soup we were served during our cruise. We had many lovely dishes onboard, but these two may be within reach. Each night after dinner we’d find seats in the ship’s lounge and wait for the evening show. As we waited a waltz or tango would play and guests would wander onto the dance floor. I’ll probably never learn to dance like that. But I guess most of them can’t make this graceful little quilt block.

Palm Leaf

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, the day the Christian world commemorates Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. He came riding a young donkey, a symbol of peace. His followers celebrated by laying their cloaks in Christ’s path, an honor they might reserve for visiting royalty. They waved palm fronds, a symbol of victory. They sang psalms, including the 118th: “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. Blessed be he that cometh in the name of the Lord: we have blessed you out of the house of the Lord.” Palm Sunday is the beginning of Easter week. Today I celebrated by making this Palm Leaf block. Tomorrow we may walk to Betty’s Tea Room and celebrate with Hot Cross Buns.

Champagne Toast

It occurred to me that a week ago I mentioned our goal to attend church in Le Havre while were docked in Honfleur. I neglected to say how our adventure turned out. Sunday morning we left the ship with €100 and our Googlemaps printout. We told a cabbie waiting at the pier where we wanted to go, and he said it would be €60 for the round trip. But he assumed we only wanted to take a photo or two of the church and turn around. When we told him we wanted to attend a worship service, he said it would be €80. The price was high, but we talked it over and agreed to pay. Then suddenly it jumped to €120. That’s nearly $180 just to get to church and back! We politely declined. Then we spent the rest of the morning exploring Honfleur instead.

Four Patch Star

In dealing with chronic pain, I believe a positive outlook is of greater benefit than any other aspect of treatment. When I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, my first thoughts were so depressing. Surely this would bring an end to all the activities that bring me such joy. Needlework, typing at my keyboard, playing the piano, preparing meals for my family, even simple household chores would become more difficult and eventually impossible. But years have passed and I’m still going strong. I credit firing my doctor for my well-being. I’d go to my regular appointments feeling upbeat, and come home with warnings of doom and gloom. He told me sooner or later my medication would cause a reaction, or stop working altogether. Eventually I just simply stopped seeing him. And I’ve never felt better.

The Road Home

No matter how lovely your holiday is, no matter how much you needed to get away, it is always a wonderful thing to go back home again. To turn the key in the lock of your own front door. To unpack your bags and wash the mountain of dirty laundry you’ve been carrying. To take a long, soaking bath. To gather your souvenirs, your photos and your thoughts about the places you’ve seen. To sleep in your own bed again. And then comes the best part about coming home from a trip; it’s time to start planning the next one!

Dutchman's Puzzle

Amsterdam is the capital of The Netherlands. You know, Holland. Sort of. The land of the tulips, wooden shoes and windmills. The people there are called Dutch, and Dutch is what they speak. Dutch sounds to me like a kinder, gentler form of German. I can almost piece together what they’re saying and what the street signs mean from my very limited repertoire of German words, though the spelling is not quite the same. The Van Gogh Museum is in Amsterdam. So is the Anne Frank House. I’m told that Amsterdam’s many cannabis coffee shops are a big draw for locals and tourists alike. But we won’t be visiting any of them. Instead, we’re booked on a canal tour. A much more pleasant trip. I can hardly wait.

Ship at Sea

The last week of May in 1940, a colossal military defeat left hundreds of thousands of British, French and Belgian troops stranded on the shores at Dunkirk. On May 26 Operation Dynamo was launched to save them from certain death or capture. A rescue fleet was quickly assembled comprised of nearly 900 vessels: life boats, merchant marine boats, pleasure craft and fishing boats. Over the next nine days and nights their crews - military and civilian alike - risked their own lives to pull 338,226 soldiers to safety in what is now called “The Miracle of the Little Ships.”

Guernsey Lily

Guernsey is a tiny island just off the coast of Normandy. You can see France from its leeward shore, but Guernsey is a British Crown Dependency. I was going to say it is part of the British Empire, but that’s not entirely true. Somehow the defence of the island is the responsibility of the United Kingdom, but that’s not exactly the same thing. I’m told the people who live here don’t pay taxes to the Crown, and that they refer to themselves as “The States,” which I find amazing. Guernsey was occupied by the Germans for several years during World War II. Right before the occupation, many Guernsey children were evacuated to England. Thousands of islanders were sent to German POW camps. Many of them never returned.

Road to Paris

Last Saturday morning during general conference, Elder L. Tom Perry of the Quorum of the Twelve spoke about the importance of maintaining Sabbath patterns, including worship, sacrifice and sacrament. He said, “As we consider the pattern of the Sabbath and sacrament in our lives, there appear to be three things the Lord requires of us. First, to keep ourselves unspotted from the world. Second, to go to the house of prayer and offer up our sacraments. And third, to rest from our labors.” With that in mind, we’re going to make an effort to attend an LDS chapel in France on our holiday. I don’t know if we’ll understand a single word of the service, or even if we’ll find our way there. But I believe we’ll be blessed for the effort.

Winding Ways

Several traditional quilt block patterns have been inspired by travel: Wagon Wheel, Country Roads, Ships at Sea, Crossroads, Wandering Foot, Trade Winds, Road to Berlin. The list goes on and on. I think it’s deep in the blood to yearn for new scenery; to long for what you haven’t seen. The block above is called Winding Ways, and so is the quilt top below. The one with straight seams was quick and easy. The one with curved seams wasn’t much harder because I used AccuQuilt Go die-cut pieces. When I tried later on to duplicate the curved pieces with templates and a rotary cutter, the results were disastrous. I don’t see any way to save those poor, misshapen blocks, and I don’t think I’ll show them to you. But they might make a nice bonfire someday.

Tree of Life

I know I mentioned back in January that several mature trees have been cut down in front of the church my family attends. What I forgot to add is that some of them have been replaced. The new saplings are tall and straight. They seem to be healthy. Their placement was carefully thought out. When they grow they won’t threaten any sidewalks, walls or fences. Already there are clumps of cheerful daffodils blooming at their feet. I always feel a sense of loss when a tree dies, even when I understand that the tree must go. But watching these young saplings settling in is somehow a great comfort to me.

Double Pinwheel

Monday morning Heather and I ran a few simple errands downtown: the library, the post office, the grocery store. When we set out, the sky was overcast but not exactly threatening, so we didn’t bother carrying umbrellas. As it turns out, they wouldn’t have been much help anyway. When we reached our first stop it began to bluster, and then to rain. It was my least favorite weather; that nasty wind-driven horizontal rain that finds you even when you hide under awnings. By the time we made it home we were mud-spattered, chilled and soaked through. And today the head cold I thought I’d shaken last week is making a repeat performance. Nuts. Bad weather inside and out!

Joyful Bells

All my neighbors’ daffodils have been blooming for weeks. But mine are being stubborn. Did I plant their bulbs to deep? Did I forget to put them in sunny spots? Should I have dosed them with bone meal last autumn? I’ve been impatient with them. I was tempted to beat them with a cane and command them to bloom, as W.C. Fields used to do with his rose bushes. I’ve watched over them this last week or two as their heads have ever so slowly grown tall, gone pale and bowed down. Finally this morning the first of them opened up. Hallelujah!

Star Lane

Yesterday was a terrific day for two reasons. First, it was Mothering Sunday. This is traditionally the day the English returned to their “mother church.”  Today it’s celebrated much in the same way as Mother’s Day in the US. People take their mums out to eat, and they shower them with cards and gifts to show appreciation. Second, it was the 181st annual general conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This is a time when members of the church meet and receive instruction, edification and enlightenment. When I lived in Utah, I was able to follow conference on television in my home. On occasion I've been privileged to see it in person. But since we moved to England, I’ve had to catch a recorded session at church. This time, though, I managed to watch it over the Internet in my living room; the next best thing to being there.

Interlocking Chain

Today’s block is comprised of eight half-square triangles and 41 ordinary little squares of fabric, arranged so they give the impression of two linked rings. You’re going to have to use your imagination here, but if I were to make a dozen of these blocks and set them together, you’d see four rows of blue chains running side to side and three columns of brown chains going up and down. A moment or two later you’d start to notice the tan diagonal lines running behind the mesh of chains. It might take you a while to go back to seeing squares and triangles again. I showed my daughter today’s block and she said, “It’s just like A Christmas Carol.” It took me a minute or two, but I finally saw what she meant. Chains in the quilt block. Chains on Marley’s ghost. Everything really is connected after all.

Fool's Square

In 1995 April first fell on a Saturday. My youngest son was eleven that year, and he had an elegant idea for an April Fools joke. He’d tie down the kitchen spray nozzle handle with a rubber band. He’d direct the nozzle forward so the next person to turn on the faucet would get a wet surprise. Compared to his other ideas, this one was pretty harmless. His only problem was that he forgot to do it on April Fool’s Day. My son is not the kind of person who can keep a good practical joke under wraps for a year. And so it was that Sunday morning, April 2nd, I did my hair and makeup and put on my Sunday best. Then as we were about to leave for church I grabbed a Tyolenol and went to the sink for a glass of water. And promptly got drenched. Happy April Fool’s Day!