I wanted to take a picture of the back of the car, as it is loaded with Banjo Man’s “stuff for the cabin”, but I am under strict orders not to open the back door.
This load of “treasures” is blanketed by an old quilt and, as promised, has not risen above the back window.
I don’t like anything blocking my view when I’m driving three thousand miles across the country.
One of the things in the back is mine: a pottery platter. I don’t think it’s taking up too much room, do you?
The back seat is for our overnight, traveling gear. As usual, I am traveling light. Banjo Man is not.
We are leaving today (maybe this morning?) and heading West at last. As I wrote yesterday, we’re not going far. Just 170 miles (3 hours) to a Presidential library and museum. I don’t even think we’ll be out of New York until Friday.
Daughter Nancy is moving into the house and all will be well here. She takes good care of things.
So it’s time to clean up the tiny mess in the kitchen, get dressed, put the last Zip lock bags of toiletries into the overnight bag and make some trail mix.
I think everything else is ready. Fingers crossed we don’t forget anything!
A few weeks ago I went to TJMaxx, but I can’t remember why. Banjo Man thought he might need shorts for our Mississippi trip, so maybe that was the reason.
Near the door I spotted this:
Whoa! The perfect bag for the road trip was hanging right before my eyes. Soft and light, with additional straps for over-the-shoulder carrying, it looked great. And nicely plopped into my cart.
It wasn’t until I arrived home and set the bag on my cutting table that I remembered my grandmother had one just like it.
And she was born in 1902.
I realized I’d seen very old ladies carry these same bags on airplanes. I’d joined the Old Ladies Travel Club without even knowing it. Instinctively, even.
Today I will start packing. We leave tomorrow, hopefully by noon, but the timing doesn’t really matter. We’re only traveling 3 hours, into upstate New York, for our first day on the road.
On Thursday morning we’ll explore the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library & Museum before we officially head west toward the mountains.
We celebrated daughter Nancy’s birthday last week.
Dinner at our favorite local restaurant, followed by dessert and presents back at the house.
I think I’m keeping this one. The cornerstones are dark blue and I will quilt around the flowers in the center medallion.
Banjo Man is working A LOT as the clock ticks down to our departure. The 2023 road trip looms large and we are excited. In order to stay out of his way and to contain my own insane excitement, I started machine quilting this quilt top yesterday.
I pinned it on the island first thing in the morning, then took it to my newly-repaired sewing machine. I picked up the machine on Tuesday, thank goodness, because 4 1/2 weeks without having anything to do was very, very hard. And a bit boring.
After hearing my frustration a friend recently asked, “Can’t you just sit on the couch and read a book?”
Sunday morning an obliging fellow quilter from New York gave us a ride to Jackson and dropped us off at our historic boutique hotel, The Old Capital Inn. Small and elegant, with a courtyard, it reminded us of the French Quarter in New Orleans.
Seen near the hotel. Reminds me of our summer home!
After dropping off our luggage, we headed across the street to the Mississippi Museum of History and the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum History. It was massive.
We explored the History Museum first. Mississippi is home to many ancient Indian Mounds, something which intrigues me no end.
As Banjo Man, perusing the display, said seriously, “You made me love mounds.”
My claim to fame.
Remember the 2015 visit to the Serpent Mound in Ohio?
We took a break for lunch in the cafe and tried Mississippi’s delicious version of gumbo, a thick soup with black-eyed peas, red beans, turkey and okra.
Then it was time for the Civil Rights Museum.
We had no idea what we were in for.
The center, called “This Little Light of Mine”, was ringed with benches and suggested as a space to take a break between exhibits.
It’s an ugly, tragic, horrifying history. I had to take several breaks from the intensity of the history of hatred. Sitting in the center circle didn’t do it for me, so I fled to the cafe and ordered a cup of coffee.
Later that evening we were treated to another storm, with rain, wind, and hail. Our third floor room, with its small French doors and little balcony, was a cozy retreat. The lights flickered, the internet went on and off and the tv weathermen warned of another tornado.
We were ready to leave Mississippi.
Before all this cancer business, we’d intended to make a Gee’s Bend Retreat into a vacation that included renting a car and driving the Blues Trail, with a few Indian Mounds visits sprinkled in. Maybe another year, maybe not.
Everyone we met was lovely and kind. Mississippi’s sweet Southern hospitality is real. And we were grateful for it.
Thursday morning, the first official day of sewing, began with a “Prayer for Our Hands”, led by our leader Anne. I loved that.
Then Mary Ann spoke briefly of her design process, which was find two pieces of fabric you like, sew them together and go from there. I admired her confidence. But could I do it?
Maybe not.
I piled up my little 4″ squares and started making half-square triangles out of the white and blue-striped squares. Maybe I would sew them together randomly and then put on a border. I hoped I could find something in one of the many scrap bins.
My three table-mates were lovely. Diann and Tisa were as enamored of the Gee’s Bend style and history as I was. Arline was a total newbie who had come along with her two avid quilting friends and had never operated a sewing machine before.
Yes, that was weird and very unusual. We took turns helping her, but she was overwhelmed but cheerful.
Meet Diann, from California:
I enjoyed Diann so much. Truly such a nice and kind person.
And here is Tisa, from Vermont:
Tisa had a lot of sewing experience. On Saturday morning, at 6 am, we were the only ones who wanted to sit quietly in the dimly lit sewing room and think about our next project.
These pictures were taken during Saturday afternoon’s show-and-tell session.
I managed to put a small project together, but it wasn’t easy. China went around giving people help with their quilts while Mary Ann taught hand-quilting. China is known for slashing quilts–cutting a diagonal line or two and then sewing the piece back together after another strip of material has been inserted in between. Friday afternoon I taped my pathetic project on the wall and asked her to slash it for me.
In a thick Alabama accent, she said no. If I wanted to slash it I could sell it to her for her grandbaby instead.
She recommended trimming one of the borders and adding red borders to the sides.
And she offered to trim it for me.
I was thrilled. And kept sewing until 6 PM, dinner time. The tornado watch had begun and we were given instructions where to meet–in the basement-level dining room–should the tornado come our way.
I was in bed at 8. Banjo Man was watching the weather on tv–the local station had preempted the basketball game–but I was too tired to care. Sewing for eight hours had done me in.
The next morning I was up at five. I made my coffee in the room while Banjo Man slept, then I took a cup upstairs to sit in the sewing room and think about what I would sew that day. Something different. Something more in the Gee’s Bend style. The sewing room was dim and quiet, which was what I hoped.
Halfway into the room I heard a voice call, “Hi, Kristine. Where’d you get the coffee?”
My table mate, Tisa, had had the same idea as I’d had: sit in the quiet and think about the day’s project. She had a Gee’s Bend book in her lap and was looking for inspiration.
We chatted and looked at books until we assumed the coffee would be ready in the dining room. Our meals consisted of down-home Southern comfort food, with plenty of salad and desserts available. China and Mary Ann often broke into song while in line at the buffet or after dinner.
You’ve never seen forty-three happier women. The mood was always joyous, with compliments given frequently, irons shared and fabric offered back and forth continually.
Coffee, tea and soda were available in the hall outside of the sewing room.
Projects overflowed into the hall.
Quilts appeared and disappeared from the walls.
We would sew until the evening on Saturday. And then we cleaned up our messes, packed up our projects, returned the sewing machines and lamps. Stacked the cutting mats.
Sunday morning breakfast was served, but several people had to leave early to catch their flights. We said our goodbyes. Followed Anne’s shuttle schedule.
We’re home after a fabulous experience in Mississippi. Yes, there was a frightening tornado an hour away. And a thunderstorm with hail the night before we left. But the people in Mississippi were warm and welcoming.
And the retreat? Well, better than I ever dreamed.
But first we had to get there.
A photo to remember where we parked the car in the massive airport parking lot.
Watching Homestead Rescue on Southwest TV.
Spending most of our long layover in Baltimore at the Silver Diner, a favorite place to enjoy a meal.
Once in Jackson, we took a cab several miles out of town to a Holiday Inn. Great place with a sports bar and good food. Then next afternoon we were picked up by the conference’s shuttle and taken to the Eagle Ridge Conference Center way out in the country, a thirty minute drive from the hotel.
Somehow this was associated with a Junior College campus. The main drive into the center was under construction, so we went around the back way. By the prison.
The prison?
We were assigned our room, then I set off to explore the sewing room and set up my rental machine. Others were doing the same as people trickled in. First gathering was to be at 6 PM for dinner, then an informal chat with China and Mary Ann afterwards.
There were forty of us, plus the calm and wise organizer Anne. And the Gee’s Bend Pettways. We had our pick of sewing tables–grouped in sets of four. Talk about organization? This was incredible. Nine huge bins of scrap fabric on long tables in the center of the room. Multiple ironing stations. Cutting stations in the hall, along with cutting mats on everyone’s sewing tables.
I’d never been to a quilt retreat before this one. I didn’t know what to expect–and I wasn’t the only one. Most of us came alone. Most were quilters, but some were newbies. And everyone was happy. Jubilant, even. I never saw anyone frown for three and a half days.
There had been a waiting list of 1200 quilters after Covid. We were the ones who had their plans cancelled due to the pandemic. Only 120 would be able to attend the three 2023 sessions. Were we happy? Yes!
Every place had a card with words of wisdom. We read them aloud to our tablemates. Excellent ice breakers.
Meals were served buffet-style at 8 AM, 12 noon and 6 PM. We were encouraged to switch it up and sit with new people at each meal. I had signed Banjo Man up for meals, so the only man at the conference had a great time chatting with forty women and making new friends.
They loved him. I confided to a couple of new friends that he had just completed radiation and that we were sticking very close to each other these days. I think the word spread, because I would walk down the hall to the coffee table or the sewing room and someone would ask, “How’s Glen feeling today?”
Most of the women knew exactly what they wanted to sew. Armed with photos of Gee’s Bend quilts and box after box of fabric hauled from home (many were able to drive to Jackson), they started to cut and sew with furious energy. The sewing room was open 24 hours a day, so many worked into the night the first day.
Others didn’t know much about quilting, but they produced all the new solid fabrics recently purchased and tucked into suitcases.
I had no idea what I was going to create. I had dug through my fabric closet and found some solid fabrics and some stripes to bring with me. But there wasn’t much of it. I cut 4″ squares out of much of it before I left, thinking I could make half-square triangles until I came up with a design idea.
This plan was not a good one. While I didn’t want to replicate a Gee’s Bend original, I should have splurged on solid fabrics to stuff in my suitcase. The Gee’s Bend quilts are modern, architectural and mostly created from bold, solid fabrics.
What was I thinking? I don’t know. Making a quilt or wallhanging was not my priority. Sewing wasn’t (I have plenty of time to sew here in my RI winters). I just wanted to see Mary Ann and China, hear what they had to say, breathe the same air, understand their creative process, see their quilts.
It’s a dream come true. I have no idea what I will be creating. I don’t really care, to be honest. I just want to soak up the atmosphere and meet the Gee’s Bend ladies.
I want to sing and pray with them. I’m ready!
My rotary cutter, favorite ruler and pair of scissors are packed in my suitcase. I’ll be renting a sewing machine and other tools at the retreat. I have cut an assortment of 4″ squares for half-square triangles to start me off on the creative path of “improv” quilting. I’m a planner, not a “seat of my pants” quilter, so it’s going to be a real learning experience for a woman who has spent many years perfecting the 1/4″ seam.
That previous sentence makes me sound insane.
As I’ve explained to my husband, this is like a classically-trained musician going to Mississippi to learn to play the blues.
Kind of.
Banjo Man is looking forward to the 77 degree weather. There are trails at the retreat center to explore. And he and the other guests will be eating their meals with us. As always, I keep an eye on him to make sure he rests.
We’re staying an extra night in downtown Jackson and will be visiting the Civil Rights Museum across the street from our historic hotel. Home on Tuesday!
My sewing machine has been in the shop for a necessary tune-up for seventeen days. Its stitches were ugly and the bobbin-winding was disaster after disaster.
In a winter where we are not entertaining and Banjo Man is content to be in his office or on the couch, this means that in my life nothing is going on. I have cleaned out enough shelves, emptied enough bins, made enough trips to the donation center of Savers. The house is clean. My fabric is organized. There are many containers of soup and casseroles in the freezer. I have a box of stuff collected to take to the lake and my travelling clothes are ready and waiting. I’ve planned the road trip route and even booked a couple of hotels.
So…what to do…
Meet my new friends.
Matt, Marty and Misty Raney’s HOMESTEAD RESCUE show on the Discovery Channel is rescuing me.
The 10th season of this show just started, so I am very late to this particular party. I came across it while channel-surfing one Saturday afternoon and couldn’t believe how interesting it was. Youtube TV has all seasons “on demand”, so I am in hog heaven.
Speaking of hogs, I have learned that pregnant sows need to be separated from the boars. Bad things happen otherwise. I think I could build a pen now (not kidding–52 years ago my Christmas present from Banjo Man was a much desired electric drill).
I know how to protect my ducks from owls and hawks. And my goats from coyotes. My honey from bears. My chickens from foxes. Myself from mountain lions (once I learn to shoot).
I am having a wonderful time here in the safety of my warm, electric-powered, water-on-tap home.
Marty and his kids travel around the country spending a week at a time at various homesteads that desperately need their help in order to survive.
These people really need help.
Banjo Man finds it hard to watch, but if there is a segment on digging a well or cobbling together a water pump I make him watch it with me. Otherwise it makes him nervous to watch the homesteaders do things that don’t make much sense.
I feel for them, though. They want to live their dream and have discovered it’s not that easy. They’re doing their best and trying so hard. One young couple defiantly told Marty–a gruff, no-nonsense, hard-working MacGyver type of fixer—that they’d learned how to do homestead things from watching You Tube videos.
I thought Marty’s white hat was going to blow up. The man who spent his life homesteading in Alaska gritted his teeth and growled, “Don’t you ever say the words ‘You tube’ to me again.”
Their shocked reaction was hilarious.
I am learning a lot. I should be taking notes. This is a new way to annoy my family with comments like, “I know how to connect chicken wire with no tools, just one screw,” and “If I had a duck pond I would make sure the overflow drained downhill to my garden.”
There have been two episodes that featured people in my county at the lake. Neighbors, almost. Banjo Man thought he recognized one of the couples. Season 4, Episode 8 “Fury and Fire” was filmed during a summer of forest fires as the nervous Raney’s could see and smell the smoke from a fire only five miles away.
The younger people are usually resistant to doing things Marty’s way, which is usually an out-of-the-box and outspoken solution to a major issue. The older folks are more like, “Thank God, we’ll try anything!”
Matt is an experienced hunter and game expert who concentrates on the safety of the homestead, along with operating the excavators and any other major piece of equipment. He’s a mild-mannered young man who bonds with the teenagers and teaches them about wildlife and hunting and shooting–everything they need to know to keep themselves and their families safe.
Misty is the gardener. And the livestock expert. She’s another kind and helpful person who can assess a problem and come up with a solution. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard as this young woman does and the homesteaders love working with her. Misty = food.
Their loud, impatient, tender-hearted father is a good guy, once you get to know him. He’s a natural problem-solver who sees the big picture. But his ideas can be “crazy” (his word), though he will put his heart and soul and own safety into solving a desperate homesteader’s do-or-die issues. Like drinking water. Heat. Safety. Roads. Dams. Protection from wild fires, flooding, and landslides.
The Raneys will use anything they can find on the homestead, such as old lumber, boulders, wire, etc.
Neighbors and family will often come to help the homesteaders during the filming of the show.
From the Idaho Press: [Raney]said: “Almost like the further you get away from the epicenter of any significant population, there seems to be a little less stress and a little more family-oriented mentalities, and neighbors help each other. I’m always watching everything when we are filming, and in the neighborhood, (you will see) complete strangers are helping their neighbors, often saying, ‘we don’t want to be on camera.’ I’m looking at a man here in Tennessee right now. One of the contractors arranged for a shed to get delivered here (for these homesteaders) — thousands of dollars, and doesn’t want to be on camera. So yes, there seems to be an appreciation for family and neighborliness the further you get into these mountains, hills, islands, and deserts.”
Thanks to the Ramey’s, I’m enjoying this hiatus after all.
May God bless old Ireland, that’s this Irishman’s toast!
And top o’ the mornin’ to you!
I was always told the family had Irish blood in us and when I explored the genealogy of my family, it was true.
My great-great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side, those adventurous and diverse New Orleans folks, was Patrick Mulholland, born in Tamlaght O’Crilly, Londonderry, Northern Ireland in 1819.
He was married to Mary Riordon, from County Cork. Did they travel to New Orleans together as a married couple? Meet on the ship? Or later, maybe in church in New Orleans?
I hope to find some ship records and discover the answer to that question.
Patrick died in 1895 in New Orleans, and family legend has it that he had arranged beforehand to be buried in his beloved Ireland.
I don’t know if that happened.
Tamlaght O’Crilly Lower Church.
My violin assignment this week was to learn “MacPherson’s Lament”, which is Scottish. So I added the lovely Irish waltz, “South Wind”, to my practice sessions and hope to play it for my teacher this afternoon. Just to celebrate the Irish!
One of our favorite “channels” is ACORN, for $5.99 a month via Amazon Prime (but also available on its own). There is a 30-day free trial, too.
Definitely a bargain, considering the cost of a dozen eggs!
This was my absolute hands-down favorite show. Two eccentric friends spend their weekends trying to find treasure in the fields surrounding their small town. It’s a gentle comedy series with a quirky cast of characters who make up the Danbury Metal Detecting Club. There are three seasons, plus a very welcome special that was released recently. I hated to see it end. It starts out very slowly, but watch a couple of episodes and give the show time.
Oh, how I wish I could buy a metal detector and join the club!
I really do.
This was an odd one. I could easily have quit after watching one of the four episodes, but we stuck with it. Set in rural Ireland, it features a policeman who spends his days trying not to do much of anything except eat junk food until a skeleton is discovered buried on a nearby farm. We found it difficult to like any of the characters at first, but the mystery was a good one. And the people involved became more appealing the longer we watched. It was definitely worth the time, if sad.
We watched this film a few nights ago and enjoyed every minute.
From Amazon UK review: Part biopic, part musical, and part fantasy, this is the inspirational and incredible true story of Neil Baldwin. Neil refuses to accept the label of learning difficulties and leads an extraordinary life where he becomes everything from an honorary graduate of Keele University to the Stoke City Football Club’s kit-man.
Have you seen any of these shows? What did you think?
is there any more pie? 