This morning I am trying to make sense of a flood of thoughts that, on the surface, are disjointed, yet somehow, if the dots are connected, the whole makes sense. Last evening, Jim and I were discussing the news events of last week, mainly, the firing of ten justices who served “at the pleasure of the president.” Now, the man responsible for “keeping them in line” with current political agendas, (allegedly, to see that Democrats are targeted for investigations, etc.) may also be forced to resign.

We recalled that this past year has been one of scandals involving officials in the government, one of which was the sexual solicitation of young pages who were interning in Congress. That issue was just the tip of the iceberg!

When, may I be so bold as to ask, did this country begin to be led by despots, irrational people, and those who would take advantage of others, either for sex, for money, for power, or for fame?

The situation is unnerving, when living by the terms of our own Constitution is not a priority, when people are detained in jail for years at a time, without an official reason, and when at least some degree of “snooping” by the government is allowed and encouraged. The idea of personal liberty is being compromised, all in the name of…(fear?).

LIFE ON THE FARM

Personally, I take solace in thinking about earlier times in my life. One fond memory is the time I spent as a young person living on a farm in a small New Hampshire town. In fact, the town was so small that we all knew each other’s names, how long any of us had lived there, and what ailments anyone suffered from.

Highlights of the week were taking the trash to the town dump and chatting with “the character” who oversaw the operation; attending Grange or 4-H suppers; going to the library; or helping to clean up the small cemeteries for Memorial Day. The “fair,” perhaps the largest agricultural fair in the state, was, and is, a draw for thousands of people.

Flying the flag meant something, as did going to school everyday (M-F), and attending church on Sundays. If a neighbor had extra vegetables, or eggs, or raspberries, or Chrysanthemums, he would share them. If any of several neighbors were taking a trip out of town to buy groceries, the phone would ring, “Would you like me to pick up anything for you? I’m going anyhow.”

There were the trips I made to the Blackberry patch in back of the barn. Fighting the mosquitoes, out beyond the peach and apples trees, on the edge of the woods, I would pick berries until my fingers were blue. I sold “the extra ones” to a neighbor for ten cents per quart, and gave her full measure and then some, walking up the road to deliver them. Unfortunately, I was dissuaded from that effort when her German Shepherd inflicted a leg wound that required stitches. I never did get paid for two quarts of berries!

Then, there was the swing that my father constructed that hung from two sturdy branches of a Maple tree near the road. I’d sit on that swing, holding one of my two little nieces. We’d go back and forth, back and forth, until they were old enough to use the swing on their own.

The biggest challenges that I can remember involved Nature. It was difficult to sleep when the “spring peepers” (frogs who were croaking to attract mates) were being vociferous, in early spring. An equally daunting task was trying to get some rest when the Screech Owls would let loose with their startling sounds. Yet another problem was the onslaught of blackflies, the likes of which I’ve not seen, to that extent, in more recent times. We’d resort to covering every square inch of our bodies, in one way or another, before heading out the door. There were also the deer flies, those horrible insects that will happily take a chunk out of horse or man, or both, especially on the trails through the woods, “down back.”

Generally, I felt safe while taking a walk, or riding my horse, along a country road, by myself. Contrasted to my feelings of today, I do not feel safe in public places like malls. The news reports are constantly reporting one random act of violence, after another. The sanctity of life seems to have diminished.

Another Fast Forward to 2006

Before the snow was on the ground, last fall, we used to walk on a nature trail not far from our home. The trail runs along the Merrimack River and one can see waterbirds from there as well as forest trees, bushes, and animals that perhaps only those interested in nature would enjoy. Then, we read in the paper that the trail has been taken over by men who engage in certain activities with each other, and leave prophalactics behind. Some outraged citizens decided to take photos of license plates of anyone using the park, and threatened to post these to the internet. So, not wanting to be tagged for something that we do not do, we have stayed away. Sadly.

I look around me, and I wonder what all of these public and private actions of people mean. For me, personally, they represent a degradation of the quality of life as I used to know it. Apparently, we cannot trust public officials, we cannot trust certain church leaders, and we cannot even trust ourselves to act in responsible, caring, and upright ways. I must not be the only one who wishes for a new direction for this country, and for the greater world.

While an overhaul of the total system is not possible, if only because the term “we” comprises so many individuals, perhaps all of us can start by being more neighborly, by having true concern about our fellow man as well as generosity of spirit, and by being more accepting and less suspicious, even though suspicion sometimes does seem warranted. We can only win one heart at a time, but first, we may have to conquer our own fears.

These random thoughts paint a larger view, on this Sunday morning. I am ever hopeful that there will be peace in the world, and that all of us will adopt a “live and let live” policy.

Have a piecefully, peaceful day, and a good week!

Patricia

Tatting, like so many of the needlearts, like say, “tambour work,” is becoming a lost art that few people are taking up today. I don’t know if my thinking is all wet or not, but I just imagine that women who lived in the nineteenth century (1800s) knew a whole lot more about how to work with textiles, create them from yarns, or embellish them, in various ways.

Recently, “Stumpwork” has been re-discovered, primarily as a result of the books of one Australian author, Jane Nicholas, but also other writers. Knowing anything about this technique opens up a whole new understanding of raised embroidery. I have been fortunate enough to have seen one excellent, antique example, in person, in a museum, (of course.)

In this age of easy-come, easy-go, when it comes to textiles, I have a new appreciation when I see a darning egg, that little antique device used to place under a textile such as a sock, so that a round surface can be more easily mended.

Trends in crafts and needlework come and go. For example, crochet is currently a technique on the wane, while knitting is so trendy, young people are busily learning how to knit sweaters and such. One wonders what factors influence which one of the needlearts to be in vogue, at any given time. Is it the production of books, or the influence of magazines, perhaps?

Quilting itself has had periods when it was most popular. The major recent historical time periods when quilting was all the rage are the 1880s, the 1930s, and from about 1976 to the present. The quilt fever continues, but in the interim, many of the hand-done needlearts, like tatting, needlelace, and crewel embroidery seem to be going “by the by,” as they say.

I want to learn how to tat…someday. That day may never arrive. I’ve found that when I don’t set a specific date with myself to try something new, it never happens. However, I’ll have you know that my intentions are good. I have my tatting thread, my shuttles, and even a special needle to learn “needle tatting.” Wish me luck. If I produce something wonderful, or even anything…at all, I’ll let you know. Deal? If you do so first, please send a photo.
Patricia