Glory Be

I finally canned our applesauce last week, and as I was sorting apples into bowls lined up on the counter, I was struck by how much nicer it is to wash dirt off of wild apples than it is to wash poison off of glossy, tended ones.

This is a fair observation, not a smug one, because I used some beautiful, poisonous apples, too. Praise Him for all.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spáre, strange;
Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)
With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:

Práise hím.

Gerard Manley Hopkins


Due to John's kindness in often taking the job now that the weather's cold, it's been a while since the last installment in Laundromat: A Tale of Woe. I know you've been missing it, though.


Having not left the house for quite some time, we had many, many errands to run. I forgot my wallet in the car-- twice-- and the girls obediently waited for me to retrieve it. They were being funny, so I took a picture from the parking lot. (Don't worry. The van was only a hop away.)

We put clothes in the machines, popped quarters in the greedy little buggers, and then were off for a wearisome day of out and about. By the time we came back to toss laundry in the dryers, we looked like this.




And then she noticed me, and clambered up to my lap for this.

Today, the saga continued on the home front with clothes-folding and lion-taming.

My mom had these same round baskets when I was small, and I used to also dump the clothes on the floor to become a newly trapped lion.

Or two lions trapped together.

Lionhood isn't all growls and claustrophobia, though; sometimes, one finds time to contemplate the meaning of life.

Fall's Last Hurrah

Another day. Another leaf pile. More of the same.

Millie shoveled herself a mountain to jump through.

And queer beasts came forth from within.

For the Love of Bird

Without much purpose, I'm posting this clip because she's cute, and it's the only clip I have that's short enough to bypass loading through YouTube. (Our connection is dicey right now, and it won't last through the longer clip I'd like to post.)

Enjoy the husky Muppet who jumps in at the end. She's pretty cute herself.

Moving On to the Red Book

I promised Millie number cookies after she finished Saxon 1. I lied, but not on purpose! We don't have numeric cookie cutters like I thought we did, but no one cared in the least.

Daring Bakers

They helped cut out the dough. Can you tell?

I took a few pictures of Susannah standing by the fridge but turned around when a sonic wave of giggles nearly knocked me down. That's not a smudge on the lens; it's laugh-powder puffing out of Millie's mouth.

Here are the aforementioned pictures those giggles put a stop to...

Then, with a singleness of purpose, they frosted and decorated the cookies.

Uses of Long Hair 101

It's handy for storage, mostly. You know, the usual stuff.

Like leaves.

And turkey feathers.


Let the People Sing!

I know. It's only five days after Hallowe'en and I'm already posting. I boggle your mind! I blow you away! I...take too many pictures.

Last Monday, after having wanted to be a cowgirl for two weeks, Millie decided upon a woodland fairy. Annika, having wanted to be everything under the sun, immediately followed her big sister's leading. Susannah stuck to "Papa Butterfly" even when Millie tried to convince her to be a catfish. Is she crazy?! Who wouldn't want to be a catfish?

On Tuesday, I found flimsy lining fabric in fall shades, and I designed an elaborate costume in my head. On Wednesday, I folded the fabric. On Thursday, I looked at the fabric. On Friday, I decided I should probably do something with it, only to find that my sewing machines that have been on the fritz ever since I sewed the monsters are, indeed, still on the fritz. It was too late to go to Nanticoke to use my mom's machine, and it was certainly too late to go to the repair shop to get an estimate for fixing my dears (the machines, not my girls). I cajoled, wheedled, raged, and battled; around 2 o'clock, I waved the white flag and borrowed Becky's.

So, Millie's costume is much different than the elaborate one I had envisioned (and that I never would have been able to put together in one day, anyway, if at all), and Annika became a woodland pixie. I ripped apart last year's bear costume (which she has requested I put back together again), made crowns out of grapevine my dad had brought down for that purpose, and gave them cattail wands. There was even time for a few snapshots before dusk fell. Who would've thought...

Millie's costume cost under three dollars to make, Annie's cost pennies, and I still have that pile of unused fabric for the next batch of woodland costumes ('cause this one ain't gonna hold out long). In case you were wondering, I persuaded Susannah to be a princess instead of a Papa Butterfly. (Q: "Do you want to be a princess instead?" A: "Yes.") She was easily convinced that her Alice in Wonderland dress was a princess dress, but she kept telling people she was a butterfly, anyway. Whatever works.

In the light, Annie made it snow with her magic, puffed-open-cattail-wand powers.

Millie merely examined her faulty wand.

In the shade, five steps to the right. Annie continued to make it snow.

Millie continued to examine and improve her wand.

She did not appreciate the paparazzi.

Even this butterfly stood still for a few.

They're all a bit bemused. Where's the candy, already?!

John drove us to the neighborhood we usually visit on Hallowe'en. Millie drummed a pumpkin on the way.

They knocked on doors, danced, and sang a few songs in exchange for candy. The funniest moment was when a man asked, "Can you say 'pumpkin?'" and stood expectantly while all three girls replied simply, "Yes." He chuckled and handed out the loot.

Just so you all know, I've subsisted on candy for four days now and can barely see through the sugar-haze enough to type this.
Thank you, pumpkin buckets.