St. Patrick's Day Fun

Tonight, when the Irish Lullaby mixes with shadows of the night, I'll wonder if my girls will sing that "simple little ditty" to their babies as my Momma did to me.

When my big girl leans into me and looks up with whispy hair about her face and asks me to tell whatever story it is, again, her big eyes will shine just a little greener. Hearing her spin tales to her 'baby' I know that that little bit of Irish in her heart is beating hard. While most will throw on bits of green tomorrow and call it a day, I'll be talking to my littles about where they come from and why they call Mamo by that special name.

We like to start celebrating a little early around here! Food coloring and milk is the easiest way to make a party! Thanks to M-Dub for the shamrock straw topper idea. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Karen reminded me of a wall hanging, with an Irish blessing, that hung in my Grandma's house for years. It made her roar with laughter and you knew as her hair was red, that she meant it just a little too much!

"May those who love us, love us;

and those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts;

and if he doesn't turn their hearts,

may He turn their ankles that we might know them by their limping."

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Remember to find a little green in that pile of laundry tomorrow.

Fence Post Pickin

I know some girls like to get dressed up and hit the town. My kind of girls like to get dressed in their best coveralls and pile the kids in the truck. Parties and soirees are so yesterday, digging through old homesteads is where it's at.

Sometimes it get's kind of crazy up in here. It's a fine line between laying down for a rest/coma  in the afternoon or bundling up to go out and get some sunshine. Sometimes the yellow blaze wins out and you'll come home just as tired, but there will be contentment tucked away in your heart. Really, what could be finer than pickin around in the east country with a best friend?

Much to my husband's demise, I can see nothing finer than soaking in a bit of history. Since there are no museums in sight, someone's old pad works perfectly for me and my pal. Driving home with a truck full of tins, window sills and simply goy-geous doors is enough to make a grown man shake his head and scold us like we're children.

We just can't be stopped.

Visions of our kids someday actually being big kids, gives us dreams of our own shop to create junk from our junk. What could be better? What could drive our husband's crazier? We just need to adopt some skills and possibly some muscles. I think i Phones are in demand so that this chica and I can stay in touch. The two hour drive get's in our way and  if only we could snap photos of the junk we happen across and could send it to the other sister--wouldn't we operate more smoothly? It's all about efficiency, practicality, and lunacy.

This lady's husband is cleaning up a rig we'd be able to pile all our kids into, legally, to scour these places. He doesn't know that it's a truck for Gina and I both to cruise in with the kids for picking yet, he just thinks it's a good family vehicle. Yoohoo! Didn't I hear you say, "welcome to the family?"

I wish this was my babe, but alas, she's a daughter of the east country land. I love her.

As I've mentioned before I love the stories about these exhausted houses. True or not, some are better left to the imagination.

There's one old place that never had power brought in until the mid seventies, prior to that they used coal and wood for their cooking and heat; the things we take for granted. These sweet souls never had children, so the neighbors adopted them as grandparents. In the fall the couple would squirrel up for winter, the neighbors helping haul in supplies. It was said you could hardly move in the blessed house for all the provisions stacked hither and yon. The nearest town was over fourty miles away and with a good blast of snow in our dark, short days, they could be stuck in the house for up to two months. The neighbors would ride in regularly on horseback to check on the couple-later when they got a power toboggan they would ride over the drifts to see how they were. The Mrs. stayed on the place until 1998, until she moved into a lodge in town, where she still is today. I hope someone sits with this lady and will write her story someday.

Next time you pass a veteran home, if you are sitting with those that lived nearby-ask about it. Find out what those walls hold for stories and sneak them away inside of you to pass on. This is how history remains relevant and alive. It's what reminds us of what we are made of, where we come from, and helps us move into the future with eyes opened wide.

At least this is what Gina and I tell our husbands anyway.

An Invitation Awaits You

I love my stomping ground. Alberta was named after Princess Louise Caroline Alberta and I do believe that this province is a little like royalty; she shines.

My girlfriend came home from East Africa and commented on our sunsets. She soaked in every moment of the beauty of Tanzania, but driving up her gravel road to turn into their farmyard, she knew she was home and knew it was beautiful! Why do we have to travel across the world to be reminded of how pretty our homeland is?

Come, let's go on a little road trip of my province. I'll pack cinnamon buns and cold tea in the car and we'll drive with the window down. You'll realize why my heart belongs here.

Now, all you lurkers out there, tell me where your from! What's unique to your province/state/town/yard? Tell me of the beauty out your window right now. The Gypsy Mama has a national delurker day (or something like that..) it's a day when all the bloggy spies step out of their box and leave a comment! I think it's a grand old plan, because I'd be ever so happy to hear where you're from. I'd love to meet you.

Welcome to Alberta!

***Special thanks to fellow Canuck and kindred spirit at  R(etired)N for sharing this video in the first place. I love everything you share!

Rustic Love

This afternoon there are a few moments of silence in this house. I have a smattering of stuff I wanted to share with you and I was going to write a post with a motley crew of thoughts. Alas, I know my yap portion would be too large to shove that all on one post. For the next few days, watch out for bits of random. It's how I roll.

FTW features beautiful photos that capture things with a bit of unpolished feel; her 'rustic love.' These photos win a spot in my heart. I don't really chat fashion or art, but I can spot an old homestead miles away. My love of history makes me want to kiss an old barn and weep when any ancient of days building has to come down. I don't just love looking at these photos, I have a weakness for storing up the stories in these scenes as well.

I was out to visit some friends in the east country when much to my girlfriend's demise I whipped out the camera like a foreigner here for a visit and started shooting photos in her house. Nope, not of the chubby babies and little girls riding their hawses, but of the woman's banister. Ay yi yi! I do believe I might have flipped my lid.

Bonnie, you're a dreamboat! Thanks for explaining how to rotate this

The first time I saw the banister and lil gate blocking tiny feet from tumbling down the stairs, I knew it held a spot in my ticker. Her husband built it and I love to sing it's praises. Let's have a moment of quiet to view that piece of art in all her glory. Yes and amen.

Now, tell me sisters, do you have stairs in your home? Do they lead to a dungeon or take you up to the highest tower in your house? Do you have an old quilt draped over the banister, a photo wall leading up those steps, or nothing but the neat stripes that are left on freshly vacuumed stairs? Any rustic love?

What's on Your Wall?

For some time I've been looking for some coziness to hang on the walls. Children's fingerprints and cobwebs in the corner haven't been cutting it.

Gumbo Lily had suggested some Jon Crane, rural Albertan's can't seem to soak up enough Bernie Brown and I'm sporting a fine painting by a two year old. They say it's all about interpretation.

I'd love to quilt a scenic lil' homestead and put it in a barn board frame like I've spied down in Auntie Sue's basement. Doesn't that just sound snug as a bug, cozy? Also sitting high on my wish list would be a big ol, ancient of days, window frame to hang on the wall; maybe I'd punch some tin with our brand on it and frame it in that chipped up paint goodness.

Alas, I keep thinking about all these things that would be swell and don't get any of it done. I'm grateful though, for the windows in our house, because who needs Robert Riggs on the wall when you can look out and spy this.

Yes, and amen. At the close of the day, how about this for a good night kiss?

Can you see the Rockies in the distance? My kiddo loves to 'see the mountains.'
Now, shoo, go check  out Gumbo Lily's blog-I love her. I think of her as a neighbour because she lives in the north like I---although, we refer to her 'north' as the 'south'...does that make sense?!

Cake in a Cup

All the ladies in this house have been feeling a bit punky for awhile now.  I'll spare you the details of all the nastiness of sick kids and cut to the chase.

Today was the celebratory day of my husband's birth. Up in this hood, birthday's are relaxed affairs. No over the top parties with ninety thousand children running a muck. Usually there is a cake and special meal, but that's where the train stops, right up in Boringville.

My poor husband didn't even get a lavish meal, really he'd be lucky to get some Kraft Dinner this year. Everyone I talked with today kept asking if we were doing something special and I repeatedly had to say no. I finally decided I wanted to whip something tasty together for dessert, but wanted it to be made in double time 'cause I'm slowly losing my ever loving mind with the sniffles a carryin' on in this pad.

Behold the cake in the cup. It did literally take less than two minutes to make (cooking time and all.) Although I sort of felt shame & skepticism putting a cake in the microwave-it's what happened. I blame it on the fever, ya'll.

Top it off with a pile of ice cream and you better believe it will make a happy birthday.

Recipe originally found here.

1 egg
1tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp flour
1 tbsp cocoa
2 tbsp peanut butter
1/4 tsp baking powder
handful of chocolate chips
(I added oil, my first cup was fairly dry.)

Mix up with a wild kiddo by yer side and pour into a greased mug. Nuke for a minute and watch out, your mind will be blown at the easy, peasy, lemon squeeziness of this cake.

She ain't perty, but she does the trick. I double dog dare you to try this out quick before bed. For more great recipes go here.

Chorin'

When I got married I received a few books on "handy household hints." I kid you not. What did people think I was? Some tom boy who wouldn't have the first clue about keeping house?

*insert crickets chirping*

Ahem.

I fancy looking through these books, nonetheless.I have one that is from the 1950's and I love reading about having company and throwing a proper party back in the day. Gelatin salads and color schemed crepe paper decorations? Why, yes pu-lease! Sometimes I think it would so nice to send a note in the mail and have 'weekend' company booked weeks in advance. Alas, reality for us is phoning the neighbours last minute and seeing if they want to whip over and share some slop. We'll toss the toys off the supper (no such thing as dinner around here) table and pitch another potato in the pot. Our company best are children with semi-clean faces and a momma who has her best ponytail holder in.

Didn't you know that a ponytail is the new shower for a mom?

Even when my house has been harassed by two untamed tigers, I love to have a sink that is clean and counters that are wiped down. Oh, there can be chaos from here to Timbuktu, but a shiny sink tricks me into feeling like my house is orderly. Isn't child rearing and housekeeping about trickery and deceit anyway?

All kidding aside, one of my favorite cleaning tips came from my auntie, which was passed down from her momma. A sprinkle of laundry detergent in the sink before you wash your dishes wipes out the crud, sparkles things up and keeps your dishrag smelling pretty as a spring rain. Just dump a teensy bit in, scrub it out good with your holy dishrag and rinse the sink out well before you do your dishes. Voila! You can send your thanks to Auntie Linda. The woman deserves a medal.

Laundry detergent in an old pail, with a china teacup makes it all the prettier to look at. Now if it would only magically do the laundry and clean the sink out itself.