… for a summer filled with deliberate moments, with ice cream faces and pajama days, with burnt marshmallow s’mores and sand castle hands, with evening walks and garden bounty.

Enjoy your summer. I’ll see you back here sometime after the school bell rings.

It’s a terrible thing happens round this cottage every year, ’bout this time. You might think I’d be expecting it by now, that I’d prepare myself and spare my poor heart the disappointment. But hope is a powerful thing.

I can’t be the only one who finds herself buyin’ into the promise of the sun come springtime. It tells me all sorts of lies about lazy days ahead, ice cream and picnics, nothing to do and loads of time to do it in. Then Aunt Kitty shows up by my bedside, first morning after school lets out, and there it is in her hand: The Summer Chore List.

So while I was pinning Ben’s undershorts and Aunt Kitty’s knee-highs to the clothesline, Pilot and Wilbur took themselves off on a little adventure up the hillside. Now it wasn’t till after I spent the evening cozyin’ up to Pilot on the back porch, not till after Wilbur crawled into bed with me that night, not till I woke up next morning to the sun in my eyes and a terrible itch under my skin, that I realized Pilot’s and Wilbur’s little adventure had taken them through a mighty crop of poison oak.

Now in case you’re thinking Aunt Kitty might have taken pity on this poor, rash-ridden girl, let me just wipe that thought clean out of your head. Aunt Kitty, she’s of the “Take your mind off it and it won’t hurt no more” way of thinkin’. When the preacher shared last Sunday ’bout how Martin Luther would counsel a man struck with the blues to hitch up the horses and go spread some manure, Aunt Kitty was noddin’ her head so hard she near to bounced right out of the pew.

When she found me doubled over in the kitchen, attacking those itchy spots with a potato masher and Ben’s best grillin’ spatula, she shoved a bar of Fels Naptha into my hand and sent me off to the bend in the creek to give Pilot and Wilbur a bath.

Well if you’ve never suffered from a fire under your skin, I’ll thank you to keep your judgment to yourself. By the time we reached the creek I was near to goin’ out of my mind, and I won’t be ashamed that I stripped off every lick of clothing and sat my bare, burnin’ bottom right down in that muddy bend of the creek. I scooped up a handful of that lovely, rocky silt and scraped at the redness on my arms and legs. It’s not the first time Pilot and Wilbur looked at me like I was nuts, but it may be the first time they were right.

If Pilot hadn’t perked up his ears and jogged away, I might’ve never known that boy was standin’ there in the trees.

I scrambled to the water’s edge with as much dignity as I could muster, which was hardly any at all, and I shouted at him:

“Ezekiel! What in tarnation are you doin’ here?”

That boy said nothin’, not a single word! I crouched behind Wilbur and tried to draw my clothes closer just by thinkin’ about them.

“I got some rope back home,” I told him. “We could tie up that misbehavin’ jaw of yours, ‘fore you swallow a fly or somethin’.”

Still, nothing.

“Oh, get on!” I hollered. “Ain’t you seen a girl naked before?”

His jaw was closed now, but there was somethin’ in his eyes I didn’t understand and it shut me up. He turned and left the way he came, but none too fast, and darned if I know how he left me feelin’ like I was the one who should apologize.

I’ll tell you one thing though. Aunt Kitty and old Luther may be on to somethin’. I clean forgot about that fire under my skin for a good thirty minutes or so.

Some strawberry jam in the making…

and with the strawberry tops…

…strawberry vinegar!

A little gardening to pass the time…

…and a day well spent.

For the strawberry jam recipe, check here. For the vinegar, just let those berry tops marinate for 12 hours or so, strain the vinegar out and boil it for a bit (you can add some sugar here if you like, but I just left it as is with plans to mix it up with honey and oil for salad dressings this summer). Process the vinegar just as you did your jam.

All that gushing and carryin’ on I did about apple blossoms–well, I’ll tell you I felt downright silly when the deer came through not two days later and ate up those blossoms like they were the sweetest treat.

I took myself and my thoughts of that crispy, juicy apple I wouldn’t be biting into come October away up into the hills. Pilot, he came trottin’ along beside me, tongue a-waggin’ and not a care in the world. You just know a dog is feelin’ good when his tongue is hanging halfway to his knees. There’s days I wish I could set my own tongue to waggin’, just let it flop around against my face so everyone could know just by lookin’ at me how good I feel.

I reckon Wilbur has some tongue envy too. More’n once I’ve caught that goat walking side-by-side with Pilot, her mouth gapin’ open and her tongue just peeking out the side. I’d tell her she’s gonna bite her tongue one of these days, tell her a goat’s tongue just wasn’t made for wagging, but I reckon some things a goat just has to learn for herself.

Anyhow, that’s what I was thinking about–that, and juicy, crunchy apples–when I ran smack into that rotten boy Ezekiel from across the creek. I would’ve let him have a talkin’ to ’bout being in my way and there being a whole lot more hills he could take himself away to, but that boy wheeled around, grabbed me by the shoulders with one arm, planted one of his big, scratchy hands over my mouth and told Pilot to be quiet with just a look in his eye.

Well, and what was I to think but I was bein’ assaulted?

I wiggled and squirmed and spit in his hand and all I got outta him was a grunt and a curse.

In the silence that followed, we heard a crashing in the manzanita. Pilot’s ears perked up and his tongue slipped back inside his mouth. One thing about a wagging tongue–it just doesn’t belong where there’s rabbits to be chased.

“They’re gone now,” Zeke said, his mouth so close to my ear that I felt his sigh before I heard it.

When he let go of me I spun around and pinned him with my best Aunt Kitty you’re-in-for-it-now look.

He shrugged. “There was a whole mess of deer.” He gestured to a clearing not five feet away. “I’ve been watching them for a while now.”

My eyes darted back to where we’d last heard the crashing in the brush. “Why! Those rapscallion scallywags!” There were no pebbles on the ground, so I raised my voice–the only weapon I had. “And don’t come back!” I hollered.

**

It wasn’t till later that evening, when Ben and I were eyein’ each other over the last piece of banana cream pie, that I found out those deer had actually done us a service.

“Deer came through last night,” he told Aunt Kitty, while she scrubbed at the dinner dishes. “Saved me a whole lot of work in thinning and pruning. I reckon we’ll have some nice big apples come autumn, if the bees to their work.”

For the most part, I’ve tried to keep Frog Creek its own little world… free of too much “me,” and too much stuff. In a brief departure, I want to just mention Craft Hope.

Founder Jade Sims says, “Craft Hope is a faith-based, love inspired project designed to share handmade crafts with those less fortunate.  It is our hope to combine our love for crafting and desire to help others into a project to make a difference around the world.”

For their current project, Craft Hope is collecting handmade dolls to be distributed this summer to the children at Casa Bernabe Orphanage in Nicaragua. There are free tutorials all over the internet, including a couple of my favorites–the  Black Apple Doll and the softie doll from 60 piggies. The deadline to get the dolls to Craft Hope is June 13th.

My daughter and I will be working together on a doll or two.  If you have any suggestions for more great doll tutorials out there, please leave a comment with the link.

I wrote a guest post on my husband’s blog today, a tribute to our dog Knightley.

Have you been out-country a moonless night, when it’s all you can do to find your own hand in the darkness, and the coyotes’ howls bounce off the hills till you just know you’re surrounded by those mangy creatures? It’s a disturbing feeling, I’ll tell you, but here’s something that’s more disturbing still: It’s a sound, rising up like woodsmoke to curl around that howling, almost joining in, but not quite. It’s not Pilot, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s music, and it came to me through my open window last night–came real subtle-like, sneaking in under pretense of the keening coyote and revealing itself only later, when it left off the plaintive melody and started in on a riff.

You might think you know me– might think you know me so well as to be certain I threw back my covers without thinking twice and clambered out of my window straight into that dark night.

You would be right, if you were thinking of the imaginary me, the one I wish I was, the one who isn’t just a little bit scared of coyotes, the one who, come to think of it, would actually be sittin’ out there in the darkness blowin’ on that harmonica herself.

Nah. Me, I lay in bed while that harp turned the coyotes howling into a sort of accompaniment and when I woke up this morning I remembered it as a sort of concert, the harmonica and the coyotes and the occasional owl, and I wondered if I might be in attendance again on the night to come.

Meantime, the day was sunny and long with pleasures of its own. This week the apple trees hit the season of their blossoming, and suddenly there’s these blooms bustin’ out all over the place.

I tugged a branch down low this morning and touched a finger to one of those blossoms and I said to Aunt Kitty, “If you could only have one–just this here blossom, or the apple it’ll be in a few months time, which one would you have?”

“Well,” she said, after narrowin’ her eyes a bit till I was quite certain she’d as soon wash the breakfast dishes three times over as answer another of my questions, “I reckon I’d take the apple. Cause it’s a sure thing.”

Truth is, sure things scare me a bit, and not just ’cause they include meatloaf, dying and cleaning toilets on Saturday. There’s just something ’bout knowing what’s coming that sets my teeth on edge.

I’ll let you know if the harmonica blows again tonight.

This recipe in its original form came off the back of a box of granola. We’ve made a few adjustments to it since then.

INGREDIENTS:

3 bananas

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon white vinegar

1/3 cup canola oil

1/4 cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 eggs

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup granola

1/2 cup miniature chocolate chips

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Mash bananas.  Add sugar, vinegar, oil, milk, vanilla and eggs and mix.

2. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add to banana mixture and mix until almost combined.

3. Add granola and chocolate chips.

4. Pour into a greased and floured angel food cake pan.

5. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 50-60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

SUPPLIES:

3/4 inch elastic to fit waist, minus 2 inches

2/3rds yard each of red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple fabrics (This skirt is sized to fit girls size 6-8. Adjust the length accordingly! If you are making a skirt for a toddler, I think you could adjust the dimensions of the pieces and use fat quarters.)

thread

yard stick

dressmaker’s chalk

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Cut a 24″x30″ single-width square of one color of fabric. Fold this square in half lengthwise, with the 24″ ends together, and iron along the fold to mark the center.

2. Open out the fabric and mark 3″ in both directions from the center of one 30″ side.

3. Using a yard stick, use your chalk to draw a line from the mark to the bottom corner of the fabric. Repeat for the opposite side. Cut along both of these lines.

4. Use that first piece of fabric as a template to cut your remaining five pieces. Arrange the pieces in rainbow order.

5. Beginning with your red and orange fabrics, stitch the right side of the red to the left side of the orange, right sides together, with a 3/8-inch seam. Work your way around until you’ve completed the circle, at the end stitching together the purple and red. Press all seams to one side.

6.  Trim the corners where each two fabrics meet all along the bottom of the skirt. You’ll want to cut a gradual curve, beginning about 4-5 inches from the point on each side.

7. Hem the bottom of the skirt. Press up the bottom edge 1/4-inch, then press it up another 1/4-inch and stitch all the way around.

8. Before you move on, fold down the top edge of the skirt 1/4-inch and press all the way around. This help you in step 9! Set your elastic 1-1/2 inches from the top edge of the skirt on the wrong side of the fabric. Using a zig-zag stitch, sew the elastic directly to the skirt.  Begin with a few stitches to afix the elastic, then pull the elastic tightly toward you while you sew, using your other hand to guide the fabric. As you complete the circle, be sure to layer the last inch of elastic over the top of the first inch.

9. Now, fold down that top edge along the 1/4-inch crease you made in step 8. Then fold the waist again over the top of the elastic. Edge stitch along the folded edge, pulling taut the elastic as you sew.

Please remember that this tutorial is offered for your personal enjoyment. Please do not sell any products made or inspired by this tutorial.

SUPPLIES:

1/2 to 1 yard eyelet border embroidered cotton

3/4-inch elastic, to fit waist

matching thread

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Prewash your fabric to take care of any shrinkage. You should probably iron it before you start, too. As you can see, I didn’t. I’m lazy that way.

2. Open out the fabric and refold it lengthwise, with the borders aligned.

3. Now, I’ve made these bloomers using patterns for pajama bottoms and girls capri-length pants, but for the purpose of this tutorial I’m just using a pair of my daughter’s jeans for tracing. It really doesn’t matter what you use; just be sure to add some width to the pant leg, and be generous in your seam allowances when you trace. The upper photo illustrates placement for a full-length pair of pantalettes. If you’re looking for more of a capri-length, slide the pants down a bit, as shown on the lower photo above.

*Please note: If you are using jeans or other snug-fitting pants as a template, I would advise adding at least a full inch to the long, straight edge of the pants, extending the point of the crotch by 1 1/2-2 inches, and generously adding to the width of the pants on the crotch side, including the buttocks/waist. I put together this tutorial during naptime with the pair of pants I had on hand… but they came out more snug than I prefer and will be passed on to my daughter’s petite cousin!

4. Trace along the flat length of the pants, adding a half-inch or so seam allowance– more if the pants you’re tracing are particularly snug-fitting.

5. Add about 1 1/2 inches to the top of the pants; this will become your waistband. If the pants you are tracing are elasticized like these, be sure to just continue a straight line up from the widest part of the waist.

6. Add some width to the legs as you trace the crotch side of the pants. Extend the point of the crotch by an extra inch or so, then draw your line straight down from that widest point.

7. Flip the pants over and repeat the process, then cut out your pieces.

8. With right sides together, stitch the inner leg seam. Repeat for the remaining pair of pieces. I like to clip the corner of the seam allowance at the bottom so the scalloped edges don’t show through later on.

9. Press seam allowance to one side. With right sides together, stitch crotch seam.

10. Flip the bloomers around until they look like inside-out pants, right sides together, then stitch the outer leg seams on both sides. Again, you’ll probably want to clip the corner off the seam allowance at the bottom.

11. Iron down 1/4 inch along the upper edge of the waistband. Then turn it down another inch and press again.

12. Edge-stitch along the bottom edge of the waistband, leaving an opening for inserting the elastic. Edge-stitch all along the top edge of the waistband.

13. Using a safety pin attached to one end, feed the elastic through the waistband. Adjust the length of the elastic to fit, then sew ends together using a zig-zag stitch.

14. Edge-stitch the waistband closed.

15. You’re done!