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!

…because girls like to climb trees too.

I bought yards and yards of this cotton fabric with the embroidered eyelet border. My girl likes her skirts and dresses, but she’s not what you would call, um, “lady-like.”

The solution I’ve landed on is bloomers. I made some for her little sister too, and while I was at it, I stitched up a pair for myself.

I would be happy to put up a tutorial if anyone would like some simple instructions, but this 15-minute project hardly seemed to require one.

When I’m being particularly rotten or sour-faced, Aunt Kitty likes to remind me I’ve got more reasons to smile than a sinner on Sunday. Usually I get so stuck trying to puzzle out what in tarnation she’s talkin’ about that I clean forget to hold onto that grumpy face. But when you’re lookin’ death in the eye, it just ain’t so easy to be smooth-talked out of your depression. That’s right, I said death. It’s alright; I didn’t see it comin’ either.

I woke with great expectations; spring comes early to Frog Creek and likely as not the almond trees are all aglow with blossoms by February’s end. Ben tried sweet-talkin’ Wilbur into the barn for breeding this winter but I reckon she fancies herself head-over-heels for Pilot. We won’t be seein’ any kid goats this spring.

Anyhow, Ben was hollerin’ at Aunt Kitty from the barn to dig the heat lamps out of the attic; the chicks were comin’ early! Now usually I wouldn’t even have a single look in the mirror ‘fore getting on outside and starting in on my chores. As I was scrubbin’ at my teeth though, a flash of white pulled my eye up to my reflection in the glass. There it was, just springing out of my head all crazy-like. An omen. A foreshadowing. A eulogy just 10 inches long. Tell me now, just what business does a gray hair have on the head of a 13-year-old girl?

I near to burst into tears right then and there. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes– and it only took a couple seconds. I imagined what they’d hammer into my gravestone: “HERE LIES TEVIS: She died before she did much on account of she only lived to be thirteen.” What I wanted to do was throw myself into Aunt Kitty’s arms, but I reckoned the right thing to do was spare her a few days heartache and keep the news to myself for as long as I could bear.

You see things different when you’re dying. I told Ben I would not be doing my chores for a while. (What I really meant was forever, but again, it seemed kindest to withhold the truth.) To be honest, I was sorta hoping he’d ask why so as I’d have an excuse to share, but he didn’t ask why. He just said a word I reckon I can’t repeat here, and he told me to get busy.

The rest of the day I spent with the chicks, giving them all names and teaching them to be kind to one another. Pilot, you may remember, has a special fondness for chickens. He fair to filled a bucket with drool, watchin’ me and the chicks from the other side of the fence. I tried talkin’ to him about kindness too and he tried his darndest to put on an innocent face, but he wasn’t foolin’ me. I know that dog too well.

I skipped dinner and waved away cookies in the afternoon. By the time supper was on the table, Aunt Kitty’d had enough of my poutin,’ thank heaven. She marched outside with a wooden spoon in one hand and a dish towel in her pocket and I spilled out the whole truth before she even opened her mouth.

“Well is that all?” she said, and quick as a lick she found that gray hair and pulled it right out of my head. “There.”

“Ouch!” I said, and put a hand to my smarting head, but she was already on her way back to the house.

Aunt Kitty says every gray hair on her head has a name and if I picked just one, more’n likely it would be named “Tevis.” Me, I felt no particular attachment to that hair and the sooner I forget about it the better. If I were going to put a handle on it, I’d choose something like “Abomination,” but the way I figure it, a name will just hinder my forgettin’ it ever happened.

Ben, he’s always tellin’ me how the good Lord knows the number of hairs on my head. Now, I reckon there’s supposed to be some comfort in that… but here’s what it tells me: sure as you can’t make a sandwich with just one slice of bread, that white hair didn’t just pop up on my head without the good Lord knowing about it. Reckon I’ll be holdin’ that against Him for a while.

If you only knew the train wreck that was my project last week, you’d understand just how happy I am with this little skirt. It’s insanely simple to make; only the applique requires the teensiest bit of patience.

Supplies:

1/2 to 1 yard 44 or 45″-wide muslin (90″ -wide muslin for size 6 and above)

45″ long ribbon (90″ long ribbon for size 6 and above)

2 buttons

various small fabric scraps to form owl

thread

1/2 inch elastic, to fit child’s waist X 2

Wonder Under fusible web interfacing

So here’s how it went together, step by step:

1. You will use the entire 44″ width of the muslin, selvedge to selvedge. Cut your muslin to the desired length. For my 2T/3T daughter, I cut it at 18 inches. (*If you are sewing for an older girl, age 6 and above, I would suggest using the wider, 90″-width muslin to maintain a full skirt. Or you can stitch two lengths of fabric together.*)

1. Download and print the owl image.

Trace this image onto double-sided, iron-on interfacing (Wonder Under). Cut the image until each part is separated (you’ll want to trace the eyes on separately from the face), then pin these pattern pieces onto the desired fabric. This is a great time to dig deep into your scrap bin! With the adhesive side facing the wrong side of the fabric, iron interfacing to fabric pieces. You’ll end up with a series of pieces like this:

2. Now it’s time to start piecing that owl together. Begin with the outer rim of the eyes:

Next, iron on the inner circle of the eyes:

3. Before continuing with the owl, you’ll need to find the center of your skirt. Iron the muslin in half, placing the short ends together, to mark what will be the center front of the skirt. (If you are sewing for an older girl and using two lengths of fabric, find the center of just one piece, which will be your front piece.) Now measure about 6″ from the top to place your owl’s head. Iron it into place:

4. The body will be next, then the wings and feet. When all of the pieces have been ironed into place, machine stitch about 1/8th of an inch from the edge around each piece:

5. Sew the buttons into place on the eyes:

6. Place the ribbon about 3 inches from the bottom edge of the skirt and pin. Stitch in place:

7. Now, for the skirt. Fold the muslin in half, right sides together, aligning the short ends. Sew along the short end in a 1/2 inch seam. (If sewing for an older girl, place skirt pieces right sides together and sew along both short ends in a 1/2-inch seam. Press. Hem the bottom of the skirt by pressing up 1/4 inch, then turning up another 1/4 inch and stitching close to the edge:

8. For the elastic casing at the top of the skirt, fold down the raw edge 1/4 inch, then fold again 1 1/2 inches and press.

Stitch 5/8-inch from top edge of skirt, leaving an opening to insert elastic. Stitch again along bottom edge of casing, leaving another opening for the second length of elastic. First insert elastic in the top casing, using a safety pin to guide the elastic through. Stitch ends together. Next insert elastic in lower casing and stitch ends together. Sew casings closed.

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

The thing is, I’ve been reading. Aunt Kitty says I may as well have dropped off the end of the earth (and I had to bite down mighty hard on my stubborn tongue to keep it from waggling that there is no such thing.) Pilot’s eyes have taken on a mopey expression and Wilbur, well, she’s grown a bit round in the belly from all this lazing by the fireplace on foggy days.

Ben did his Christmas shopping in the attic, just as he does every year. There wasn’t even a blush on his cheeks when Aunt Kitty mentioned that the shawl she lifted out of a newspaper-wrapped box on Christmas morning bore a remarkable likeness to the one draped across his mother’s shoulders in the photo on the piano.

As for myself, Ben uncovered a stack of dusty books. Wuthering Heights. Pilgrim’s Progress. Pride and Prejudice. Little Women. Misty of Chincoteague.

I thought, at the first, that I would start straight from the top, and opened Bronte’s novel that very evening. Was this a gift? Because it seemed a punishment to me! I read it aloud so Pilot and Wilbur could share in my misery. You may wonder why I didn’t just put this book down and move onto the next. I wonder too. Pilot whined when Catherine’s ghost first appeared and Wilbur wiggled under the bedcovers until only one hind hoof could be seen poking out. I wanted to hide under those covers myself, and I would have if only I could still see the words on the page.

Three nights of this we endured, and for what? Only to wake that third morning with Heathcliff’s agony in our hearts: “You said I killed you – haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

I had done nothing to deserve this pain, and I’ll tell you it was a struggle to hide my bitterness from Ben. Collecting dust in the attic, indeed. Just as it should be! My next choice would not be made so casually. I reckon anyone would’ve been convinced as I was by the declaration on the dust jacket of Pilgrim’s Progress. “A Christian classic,” it said. Uplifting, I thought, and why shouldn’t I have? Pious, that’s what it would be– good and holy and uplifting.

And I’ll tell you I near to peed my pants no less than three times in the reading of that book, and by the end I was holding onto Pilot and weeping like to start a flood with the certainty that I could be bound for nowhere other than hell–and what a dreadful, terrifying place it would be!

Two days I stayed away from books altogether, but in a moment of pure weakness, on the third day I picked up Pride and Prejudice. Aunt Kitty assured me there was nothing to fear in this one and all would be well by the time the last page was turned. And it was! Darcy loved Elizabeth and Mr. Bingham loved Jane and that rotten old lady was put in her place. There was a smile on my face when I closed the book and Pilot barked a cheerful bark, like I had not heard from him in weeks. The sun had come out after days of fog and we were settled quite comfortably against a fallen log on the hillside. I giggled and leapt to my feet. So full of joy was I in that moment, I even found a grin and a wave for that rotten boy Ezekiel when we passed him on our race back home.

That night I dreamed of Pemberley, and in the morning I woke to the sound of my own voice whispering plaintively, “Mr. Ezekiel.” Disgusted, I tossed back the blankets and recovered Pilgrim’s Progress from under my bed. Better fear of eternal damnation than mooning over some stupid boy.

…with a little bit of toothpaste slobber on the star, just to keep it real.

Here’s the image I used for the applique, if you’re interested.