Let's drink a cup of kindness yet to days of Auld Lang Syne

Another year has come and gone as we made one more crazy, sometimes fantastic and sometimes sad trip around the sun. Never mind my personal life I have done so much this year. I officially kicked started my business, not selling much but enough to say I can do this. I started a blog. I apologize if it sometimes seems disorderly, and poorly written, I am working on it. That and my head is a bundle of over a thousand years of human history and fiber arts, and cooking, oh and song lyrics. Things are sometimes a bit muddled. So now I am going into the year of the sheep (I am taking that as a good sign for the year) and continuing to do what I love.

New Year is amazing. We set new goals for ourselves,  some we succeed in and some we don't.  By today's calendar we mark it as January 1st. The Chinese mark it this year on February 15, 2015 and as I said before this year will be the year of the sheep.

Even today depending on what calendar you look today is very different days. Today is December 30, 2014 by the Gregorian calender. Today we use the Julian Gregorian calender which sets the the first of the New Year as January 1st.  The earliest Gregorian calender set the first of the new year as March 25.

Viking calender was by the lunar months, a common occurrence across cultures.  Others were set by the seasons, often set the planting of the fields starting a new year. Some set more by the stars. While others were determined by what we today call the solstices, four in total. Winter solstice today lands on December 21st and in the northern hemisphere is the shortest day of the year. It is thought that the hedges found scattered throughout England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland and even a few in France were built by the Druids of the ancient Celts to help mark the summer and winter solstices.  The actual reason behind them is as big a mystery as the druids themselves.

So no matter what calender you go by have a Happy New Year. Here is to the hope it brings, the knowledge,  and best of all the friends who come with it.

The stockings are hung on the couch with care. ..

I love Christmas, the songs, the food, the drinks and of course the gifts. One of the reasons I love it is the traditions. My family has a few. The first is our stockings,  each hand knitted, my mom's,  father's and mine all by Great Grandma B, my mother's Grandma. My brother's was either made by Grandma G (Grandma B's daughter), or Great Grandma G. Every one has our names, birth year and a picture. Mine is the snowman and Christmas tree.

Family stocks. The old cloth one is my dad's from when he was a kid.

So we have the stockings laid out, next is the food. Dinner varies from Ham, roast beef, turkey, lamb, or what ever nice looking meat my mom decides to buy. Since we grow our own produce there is unusually potatoes, butternut squash and beans. Cookies if we remember, or have time is soft cookies and peppercorkers. The later cookies' recipe seems to get milder with each generation,  was one from my Great Grandma N. I am sure that when she brought it over on the ship it was in Swedish but the recipe was either translated or written down by my Grandmother K, her daughter. It still states in its opening "simmer molasses over open flame."

Of course we have drinks, egg nog in our home is of course a must but not as important as glug. Another recipe from my Swedish Grandmother, this concoction of cranberry juice, brandy and port wine will kick the cold from your chest. Not only is it a Christmas recipe in our house, it is also a cure all.

Then there is the tree. You know the tree from a Charlie Brown Christmas Special.  Yea that is our tree.  As a kid we would go to our wood lot, my brother, father and myself and find the perfect tree and cut it down. We'd get home and it was Charlie Brown all over again. The only year it didn't happen dad had cut the tops off some large trees at Grandpa's house. Despite the look we would decorate. Mom's homemade angel sitting on top. Tractors, boats, campers and cars hiding all over it, paper decorations made by my brother, my cousins and I. In our family we even have a superstition about the tree. We have three birds that decorate it bringing us luck for the next year.

So there is our family tradition. Yea it is simple, and I give hand made gifts but it is ours. Through history Christmas traditions have changed. Queen Victoria brought the now popular tree which used to only be a German thing, Santa now reaches around the world. Even songs have changed. In my own family things have changed. Secret Santa's became swaps, what used to be 10 of us Ks gathered around the table is now only 4. So whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kuanza, or just being together, Happy Holiday Season from my family to yours.

Have your own tradition you would like to share, please share in the comments. 

Dream cloth

So last night I had a nightmare.  It didn't involve the typical bad dream ingredients, liking running or falling, but was horrible none the less. I dreamed I was sitting in my garden at work, wearing a woolen petticoats, linen waist coat and my best hat. I was talking to visitors when a moth landed on the petticoat. Now for any one who knows fibers it is a well known fact moths and wool do not mix. I swatted the moth a way, it wouldn't leave in fact another one joined it. Eventually I started hitting them, they wouldn't die. I started rubbing my hand on them and although the wings were gone, the legs and most of the body squished they kept enjoying the petticoat.  So I stood up, waved it about and the petticoat disintegrated between my hands. Luckily in my dream I was wearing two but it was at that moment I woke up.

Never mind the fact the petticoat was a forest green with a brown band on the bottom and I have never seen it or worn it before in my life, I have never seen meaner moths. Today cloth is relatively inexpensive, though wool does tend to be on the more expensive side, so when the evil moths do eat a bit of wool we are less upset. Yet wool was the main source of cloth in the Northern European countries, (Linen next) and it is a rather laborious material to prep. From tending the sheep, shearing, than cleaning, next carding or combing, then to spin it, and finally weave or knit it.

Knowing all that it is hard to imagine how upset they might have been to find said moths in the wool.

Author's note: I told this dream to a baking friend of mine. Turns out she is haunted moths too but they are always eating her flour, not wool. Those pesky moths haunting our dreams.

Looping to Lucets

So in D.I.Y blog number 3 I am going to show you how to make lucet.

1 Take your lucet in your dominate hand and thread your string into the hole so that the end is on the front. You will be using this to keep your tension.

2. Wrap the thread around the front of the left prong.

3. Wrap thread around back prong to the front.

4. Bring around to left prong wrapping to the back.

5. There is now two strings on the left prong. Take the bottom one and pull it over the top string and prong. Pull the main string to tighten.

6. Wrap thread around right prong and take bottom thread and again pull over top thread and prong. Pull tight but leave enough slack to move the thread.

7. At this point I like to start turning my lucet so that I am working off the right prong. Continue to wrap thread around prong and moving the bottom thread.

8. To finish clip thread. Continue wrapping around as you do pull the thread through the loop closing the loops.

9. Enjoy your new lucet cording.

Let's get dirty....

I am proud to announce a little known fact,  History is a dirty, unrecognizable mess of unrelenting psychotic, haphazered moments. Sounds like a lie, I know, but most historic facts people think are fact, are in truth myths we have continue to tell our children because they are cemented so much into our culture that the actual truth would be more shocking and seem like a lie. Most derive from before history was a profession.  When it was just history lovers reading one document and taking it as absolute truth. Then there was the grab onto one line and use it to address an issue that needs thousands of lines to explain. My favorite is thinking it is one way but in reality it is a whole different reason and it all stems from different centuries definitions of a word like doll, tight, tick, spit, gay, and so many others.

Bug Hunting 18th century

But I am not here to talk about misinformed, misinterpreted,  or misrepresented history but actually the dirty history. I realized in high school it was dirty. At the time I got really in to ceramics.  I started painting a representation of the birth of Jesus. I started with him, and then started painting Mary. I "finished" her but something was bugging me, she has walked and rode on a donkey for miles, is sleeping in a barn and yet she doesn't have a speck of dirt on her. Being the true to life person I was/am, I painted dirt on the hem of her robe. When my mom heard my answer why she laughed and said "Duh!"

I am sorry if I just destroyed your romantic view of Jesus' birth  but in my defense I have a point. We romanticise history to a ridiculous degree. Wars are seen as glorious rightful victories that we lose sight of the death, destruction, and just total loss they leave behind. We seen the settlers of 1620s new Plimoth as lost pilgrims and we loose sight of how hard there lives were.  We see Kings and Queens of lands and forget how their servants were treated.

Flour child-Morgan Weistling

The thing is lots of people get offended when we interpret people as dirty. I couldn't help but laugh at the number of complaints for museums about reenactors being "too dirty". We go to work where we cook, clean, garden, work with ash covered hearths, gather firewood, and so much more. I count it as a clean day if none of that manages to make it down between my skin and clothes. It is a clean day if I remove my socks and a puff of dust doesn't hit my face or dust stain shows where my shoe sits.  Then I have my baking job. I find flour in my shoes, on my pants, on my shirt, and on one occasion I found a good size piece of dough in my hair. We also work with a wood fired oven. I spent at least two hours with flour on one cheek and ash on the other. During those two hours a spoke to  about 100 guests and some v.i.p.s with the museums programs relation manager. No one said a word.

Meat Market -Joachim Beuckelear 1535-1575 Naples Capodimater Museum

I count it a good day if I walk away without dirt on my face or in my hair. History isn't clean. Dirt used to grow plants has cow dung and chicken dung mixed in. There are ribs on a spit with logs of wood falling into the sauce pan. Splinters of firewood stuck to your clothes, hands covered in bread dough, dust on the table, and leaves on the floor. Our fore mothers and fathers weren't afraid to get dirty or be dirty. They also weren't much about avoiding the dirty life. Those that did were rich or dead.

Maid asleep... let us too

When I get home...

So for this weeks blog I am going to talk about our veterans who keep our homes safe. I have decided to share with you the last letter a soldier wrote to his mom and dad on May 22 1946.

May 20, 1946

Dear Mom and Dad,

How are you?  You haven't heard from me in quite awhile now have you?

I am on my way home believe it or not.  I left Japan April 15th and got here yesterday so you can see it is slow going. I am on a L.S.T. which is used for beach landings and are very slow. We only go about eight miles an hour.

I know tomorrow is your birthday momma. I was hoping when I left Japan I would make it. But on this tub there is no hope. I should be home a civilian in six to eight weeks. 

We left Japan and went by Okinawa then to Guam and stayed there for a week. We left there and went to en Eniwetok which is in the marshalls and now Pearl Harbor. 

Don't bother to write to me because it will never get to me.

I have met a kid from New Castle, ME. He knows where Wescasset is where Sid and I went and knows the people also. His Aunt lives in Spencer so after he is discharged I will be seeing him. 

I have been wondering how everything is at home because it has been six weeks since I have heard from you. 

It is 10 o'clock at night now so I am just about asleep.

I intend to call you when I get to the West Coast. I will have to reverse the charges because I am broke. We didn't draw any pay when we left. 

It has really changed since the last time I was in Pearl. Before it was really busy but it is dead now. 

What am I going to (do) when I get home? That is the question.  Everybody else on here is the same way. I guess that is the $64 questions. 

I guess I better sign off now. Happy Birthday Mom. I will be home for yours Pop. I hope you are all right. 

Love Richard. 

Mundane but where every soldier's mind is when he is off defending his country. So thank you to the men, women and dogs of the past, present and future defending our nation on its shores and abroad and they all come home as safe as the soldier pictured above.

A Tisket, a Tasket, I've got something in my basket

In an effort to organize my life I have a number of baskets. Big, small; old, new; wood, cloth. Over the years I have been using them to organize my projects and supplies. Sewing baskets are seen in paintings, and drawing through time, mentioned in wills, probates and other data regarding the home life. Probably one of the most useful and underrated tools in any sewing room. Growing up my mom's was an old wooden cigar holder, a chocolate box and a number of cookie tins. Now I am not even going into sewing chests and cabinets.

Dutch sketch; note sewing basket on the floor.

Probably since sewing housewives have looked to storing their gadgets some where. Now I can't even begin to guess or research where the idea originated both geographic location or time. If there is anything my profession as a historian it is that they never write about what you want them to write about.  So when trying to pin down information on the history of sewing baskets it is about as easy has pin pointing the first ever cooked food. It happened, was created out of necessity, the world moved on and now we cannot live without it.

Visit with Grandma; note the shape of the sewing basket has changed,  and has a lid.

My first personal sewing basket made of cloth, in the shape of a cottage,  filled with all sorts of useful tools, and had a dragon, a unicorn and fairies on it. A gift from a family friend I still count it as my favorite but I out grew it. Now I have one I keep by my bed for doing repairs when I can't sleep.  I have a wooden one filled with my Historical reenacting supplies and a large one I got on clearance at Joanns for all my notions. Still not enough places to store all my gadgets and supplies but getting more organized.

My useful sewing baskets

So I don't know where or when the first sewing baskets came into being but I can tell you the following. They are seen in paintings dating to the 15th century. They appear in information regarding sewing around the world. The can be made out of anything, wood, cloth, sticks and they are extremely useful and mundane. Happy sewing!

To market, to market to buy a fat pig...

Author's note: I know this doesn't seem like a housewife topic but trust me on this.

We have all been to one in our lives. Fayres or in the modern day fairs have brought excitement to communities around the world.  They can bring new and exciting news and things. Today they vary from county and state fairs, car, sewing, and animal expos. They are fun, entertaining and exciting. Sure there are rides and food but for centuries fairs or market days were more about the new items.

Mother Goose

Most fairs last a few days, while others last months or more. In small rural areas a fair could be a relief. Even a market coming through once a week was something to look forward to. For everyday or once a week market they were like farmers markets today. You might find some jewelry or clothing but most likely you will find fresh vegetables, herbs, meat and local spices. Of that you buy only enough to get you to the next market day with out it spoiling.

Vicenzo Campi, The Fruit seller 1580; Joachim Beucklear, The Country Market,1566

Once a year for a few days to a couple of weeks you might have a larger fair. Locals and travelers would gather to sell there wears and prove they were the  best. You could find food of course but there was cloth, animals, spices, and other treasures from far off lands. There would be dancing, singing, and other entertainment. In some images you find gambling, strangely dressed people and stages with all sorts of acts. 

Peasant Dance and Children's Games by Pieyet Bruegel 1560s;  Aertsen 1500s

Over the years fairs have changed but the purpose remains the same.  Excitement,  new and unusual things and of course entertainment. World fairs, State fairs, County Fairs and farmers markets bring out the best in what our world has to offer. They have been launching points for automobiles, televisions, new comics, and so much more. They display local talent from weavers, to gardeners, bakers and the list continues. We still look forward to them. From going on rides to seeing vendors we haven't seen in a while. Getting homemade relish and jams or wooden spoons you can't find anywhere else.  We love seeing the sewing and knitted items on display and maybe buy some. The sight, sound and smells entice our senses as we bite into funnel cake or Carmel Apple or maybe something we have never tried before. Even colorful posters give us something to look forward to.

So this weekend as I head off to the New England Fiber Festival I look back to the history of fairs and festivals,  and look forward to new gadgets, techniques,  and the excitement...

Home again, home again, doing a jig.....

Painful Pleats

So this summer I was asked to make a 1770s gown for a 12 year old girl. I said yes forgetting that it was the age of volume.  To get the volume needed in petticoats (skirts) of the time most designs required pleats, the bane of any womens' existence.  Figuring out the folds and getting even folds, never mind creating the perfect box pleats or knife pleats, takes forever. For this garment I spent 2 days, in total 24 hours, minus food and bathroom breaks trying not to cry over the dreadful pleats. My roommate,  who does cosplay and was making a extreamly complicated jacket, heard me curse about every 2 hours as I again found myself taking out the pleats and starting over. Finding the right combination of pleats to fit the waist band was seeming impossible.

I love how pleats lay but for labor you get the same effect with gathers and less hair pulling and crying, at least with the trick I showed you last week.  However the pattern called for pleats. Luckily a few weeks prior to getting this job, I visited my mother. I was digging through her sewing cabinet looking for my next blog post when I came across something I haven't found anywhere, a pleating tool. Remembering a skirt I wanted to make (still haven't) I borrowed it. I intend to return it as soon as I find one of my own.

This tool makes pleating a snap. What I can't figure out is why they stopped making them. Made by the Oakville Company of Oakville, Connecticut starting in 1961, it made even pleats 1/2 inch to 1 1/2 inches. Ajustable and well marked the metal tool works really well. All you do is insert around the fabric you wish to pleat and twist. Once you pin the pleat in place you remove the tool and start over.

I love gadgets that make my life easier but why did they stop making them? Got an answer would love to hear it.

Gathered in cloth

In do it yourself number 3 I want to show you the newest thing I have learned, gathering fabric. A centuries old technique to create volumes but I am also sure the dread of every sewer every where. Getting them even, not giving in the desire to cry as you try over and over again.  Alright it might just be me but still, only thing I hate more is pleats, and that trick I will show you next week. Here is the easy way to do gathers (And thank you to the person who discribed this to me.)

STEP 1 :First choose your fabric and set your sewing machine to the lowest/longest stitch on the stitch gage.

STEP 2: Sew a line where you want to gather the fabric. Do not use the reverse during this process. 

STEP 2 1/2: take off the machine sit in you favorite chair and enjoy the time you just saved.

STEP 3: Firmly grasp the bottom thread of the line you just stitched snd gently pull. Moving cloth as you go to get an even gather.

I did it evenly on both sides towards the middle to not put too much stress on the thread. 

STEP 4: Enjoy the ease of a 4 step process as you add your finishing touch.

There you go. 4 steps, no muss, no fuss, and nice gathers. Till next week.

Why Sew Serious?

I am proud of the fact I make most of my own clothes. I am more confident on days I wear them and that includes my extremely large sweater with bat wings. (It was the first one I made and in true I am completely crazy fashion, without a pattern.  I did and didn't learn from that mistake, the next one was too small.) Although sewing and knitting is job number two, it is enjoyable and relaxing for me. In fact that is why a lot of people do it. The day I stop enjoying the challenge I will stop doing it.

The too small sweater

There are people though who take the art to serious.  They think there way is the only way. I have seen these people at shows. They argue with the vendors that the display is wrong, or try to convince you that the purchase you are making is from the wrong company.  Now I will admit I am a sewing snob. I only sew with singers and viking machines but I have tried brothers and bernas, liked them both. That isn't going to get me to buy anyone soon but still. With my knitting I prefer wood needles. I have less drop stitches but when I sit on them they bend or brake. Medal ones I like but I find I need more band aids and maybe a trip to the doctors.

Now seeing how my mom taught me you would think we knit the same, nope. Last year I was making baby blankets for charity and while I was crocheting trim around the edge of one I had finished knitting she picked up the one I had started on the needles. She started knitting away at a couple then went to help another girl. I finished my trim, put the blanket on the table for donations and went back to the other blanket. Now I hardly ever look at what I am knitting.  An hour later I looked down and there was two rows of twisted stitches. One was where my mom started the other where I started. Some where out there is a child with a blue blanket withŕ two rows of twisted stitches made by a mother and daughter team.

The blanket. In between the yellow lines are the rows in question. 

So whether you sew, knit, make lace, spin, or weave remember it is for the enjoyment. There are all kinds out there and we need all kinds to keep the arts around.  As long as the way is right for you and fun don't worry.

You reap what you sow!

I love fall. The changing colors of the trees, the scent of the air as it gets cooler, the feel of a warm hand knit sweater that keeps away the chill and the food. Apples, squash, beans aah the list goose on. Growing up it meant our kitchen was full of yummy smells. My mom's home made spaghetti sauce and I knew the difference between hers and store bought. Jam from raspberries and blueberries. Then there was the butternut squash. In 1997 in a fit of well crazy brilliance my mother took over the large plot of garden my Grandma and Grandpa K used to tend. Grandpa decided two large plots were too much. Let my mom use the top and he used the bottom one. He showed my mother how to plant butternut squash, his main, well, crop cause face it 150 butternut squashes is a crop. Through the years that plot has grown and grown.

Onions and Garlic from my garden

Now although there are plants you harvest in the summer the largest harvest happens between September and the first frost. Historically in the U.S. schooling worked around planting and harvest seasons. It was the busiest time of year for farmers as they rush(ed) to bring in the harvest. In fact the first industry in the world was agriculture.  Happening all over the world 12,000 years ago Nomads around the world from China to Egypt to Brazil. Pinning down an exact place and time is almost impossible but among the first cultivated, wheat and Rye. (Bread)

Nomadic tribes that had followed food stayed in one place. In Mesa Verde in Colorado they lived in Cave dwellings on the sides of cliffs and planted corn on the top of the cliff around 2,000 years ago. The earliest tools were made from bones and rocks. With the creation of metal tools the task got easier. The back breaking task got even easier in the 1850s with the invention of the steam tractor.

Food in a Dutch painting of s market, 1500s

The best part about harvest season? Feasting! Today we celebrate with Thanksgiving.  A 1860 tradition to breakup the fear of Civil War, made a holiday by President Lincoln in 1863. It was inspired by the early settlers in New Plymouth, in what is today Massachusetts. A Harvest feast in October 1621 brought both Englishmen and Natives together and Lincoln used it to his advantage.  A Thanksgiving on the other hand was a day of fasting. (More of that in a later blog.)

So here is to the harvest, to a strong one, a full one and a yummy one, now someone pass the Potatoes.

Oh the place you go!

If you had asked me 5 years ago where I would be I would have said "Working in the Park Service". I did too for two years but last year after getting an email from my boss regarding my paperwork to stay I asked myself, "Do I still want to do this." See to stay in the service I had to be in school. The thing was I hated the program I was in. I just wanted to be a full time ranger but getting in through the hoops was like pulling teeth, painful. I had applied to seasonal and full time positions across the eastern coast and only heard back from 1 out of 50 with "no". In my own park I was temporary seasonal and I felt stuck. I wasn't going anywhere, wasn't sleeping, wasn't making any connections and so when I ask "do I still want to do this?" I knew I had my answer, "No." That night I slept better than I had in four months.

I already had a job interview lined up doing lord knew what. The place I applied to hadn't even had job openings, I applied hoping they would recognize I had a unique set of skills. I had applied to 20 other museums in the New England area but this was the only one that wanted an interview. So after signing the papers, saying goodbye and packing what I could in my blazer, I drove North not knowing what the future held. Now I know, I work in my field,  in a museum as an interpreter, cook, garden, sewer, and now I bake on top of that.

As I have been training for the baker job the last few weeks it has been on my mind "this isn't what I thought my future held." I am pretty sure my Grandpa and Grandma K are quiet enjoying watching their little girly girl, who made Grandpa take the fish off the hooks cause she hated that they were slimy, is now ankle deep in goat, chicken and cow dung, taking meat off of fish heads and elbow deep in bread dough. It makes me think though about all of my relatives who took those leaps.

Driving back to New England was the biggest risk I had taken in four years. I had no boyfriend,  no job, barely any money, barely a plan B. I was running on faith. My Great Grandma and Grandpa N had made those same leaps in 1911 and 1921 coming from Sweden. My Great Great Grandma B made a similar leap in the 1880s.  He husband dead from typhoid fever a new born son and she headed back to Burma to continue her mission work. In 1820 and 1620 I had relatives arrive here. Both had previously been stranded on islands, both named Stephen one from Ireland, one London, England and both like to cause trouble.  All took leaps. Risked what they knew for what was unknown. In some ways their fortune proved favorable in others fatal. Yet they risked the unknown anyways.

It is interesting.  We are asked in interviews were we see ourselves in five years. Some know,  some don't, I think I answered with, "hopefully still where I belong, New England."

Left to right my Uncle Harold, Great Grandma N, Grandma K (standing), Aunt Anna, Great Grandp N. 1927. The only one still living is Harold. 

I craft history.

There is a hash tag, or promotional phrase I have been hearing lately regarding Plimoth Plantation, #icrafthistory. What an interesting phrase,  I craft history.  I know it is strange but craft is one of my pet peeve words. In high school when I was called crafty it would get under my skin. In my head it implied, simple, anyone could do it, easy, and worse of all cheap. It was degrading.

Now I get, "you're so talented," or "you made that?". It feels good, it feels like I am on the right path. I heard for the first time the phrase Artisan last year regarding some of the talented people I worked with. It was hearing about the staff who build, talk, cook, sew and do pottery as Artisans and it felt like a word that fit with me as well. I had been told by an art teacher in high school that sewing wasn't an art. That I couldn't use embroidery for my final project.  I told her I was going to design my own pattern.  That wasn't enough. I had to have 5 different kinds of stitches, the original drawing,  the grid drawing, have it mounted and more than 12 color changes. Even then she said it was to crafty. I wanted to cry.

If only she could have seen what I see. In every stitch there is a story. It was a girl sitting on a stone wall looking at a sun rise. I go home, see that piece in my bed room and think that is my life. To her art was on paper or sculptures. For me art, and history was around me. My home was art. Every wood was connected by my father and grandfather's loving hands. It's color decided because it was the perfect shade of green. In the yard trucks and tractors in various stages of repair. Want to see art? A tractor or truck rusted to time, barely running going again looking and sounding brand new like just came off the line. Inside the smell of amazing meals, the ingredients from our own garden.

In my life today I spend seconds to hours to days crafting a variety of different items keeping my sanity in check while honoring the talent and love of the women who did this not for the art but for the necessary implementation.  If they didn't make bread there was no bread, no socks than their feet got cold, and no logs cut meant they got rained on or had no fire in their homes. So here's to those busy homemakers (crafters). I am history by what I craft and I keep those memories alive.

Those who don't learn their history are doomed to repeat it

Back in the summer of 2009 I had started working as one of five interns at Harper's Ferry National Historical Park in West Virginia.  I was to work 3 days a week with Visitor Services and two with Education.  It was the start of something amazing. I remember arriving at 7:45 that morning, taking the park bus down into town after being told by a park ranger where to go and arrived at the Information Center in Lower Town were I met my supervisor, I will call him John, in honor of that year being the 150th anniversary of the John Brown raid.  I had arrived before anyone else, and training wasn't to start for another week so John and I talked. The first thing he asked me was if I had any interpretation experience. I said no I speak French very poorly and Spanish even worse. Secretly I was thinking "Oh crap, I just lost the internship". He laughed and said "No, I mean Historical Interpretation." I must have looked absolutely confused because he said, "I mean taking resources and talking about history with someone in a simpler way." My lesson and my tour guide career was born.

Items at a local museum done based on paintings, excavations, and descriptions.

I worked there for 4 summers/years, in 4 different branches, spoke to thousands of visitors and was told hundreds of times that I had helped them understand things they never had before. Now I do 1st as well as 3rd and have found it a whole new challenge.  Everyday I come home, my head swimming with information. I have found normalcy in the abnormal and am asked often not only were I learned all of this but how do we know what we know about history.

Two paintings done in the 1500s-1600s by the same Dutch artist. Note difference in clothing but both using a hand spinning wheel, the one on the left has a kniddy knoddy on the wall, the other a basket. Both are spinning flax attached to a distaff with a band of cloth.

Maybe I should begin with historians, they rely on books, both primary, written during or after by someone who was part of or witnessed the act, and secondary, written by someone who heard or read about the same act later. Next you have Archaeologists, who look at maps, choose dig sites, discover artifacts, and use it to piece together the area, events, and cultures.  Then there are Anthropologists, who look areas, artifact, and events to see how people move and cultures created. Then you have people like me Historical Interpreters who take all that information and try to give people the most accurate information we can from that mess.

Women sewing, the left done in 1600s, the right 1700s. Note the posture of the women, the clothes, furniture and accessories.  Even the baskets vary.

The problem is that dispite what people think,  history  isn't cut and dry. New discoveries are made every day that can change our interpretation.  We use primary and secondary sources, paintings/etchings, music, surviving artifacts, broken artifacts, educated guesses and so much more to tell the stories. One painting could be enough to change one belief while a book may contradict it entirely. The problem is that the job is made harder by myths.

My hardest time is being told I am wrong when I know they are stuck in a belief that was formed years ago by a historian who was making an educated guess that stuck. For example beds, Sleep tight is not referring to the fact bedsteads had ropes holding up your ticking, or mattress that occasionally needed to be "tightened" but more to tho origin of the word tight,  which meant snug or impervious, first used in the 14th century according to Mariam Webster. Tight/tighten, as to make taunt or remove slack dates to 1680, according to the same source. Also beds were not shorter because people were, but because the amount of bedding makes them look so.

The top left is 1700s while the other 3 are dutch done in the 1500s and 1600s. Showing typical life, we see food, clothing, hardship and tools.

So yes I know I am telling you that the story your elementary teacher told you is wrong but there are myths out there I just want to crush. After all those who don't learn their history are doomed to repeat it.

If you like the images, there is a link to all of them on my pintrest page Historic Stitcher. Find them on my paintings board and follow me. 

Hooked on yarn.

I sew, something all my Great Grandmas, Grandmas, aunts and my mom do/did. I knit, something most do/did. I tat, something my Great Grandma G and Grandma K did. I spin, none of them do that. What I can't do is crochet.  Oh I have tried and it only works when I have an already solid garment and adding it as a trim. Oh I have lots of crocheted items but all made by someone else.

Crochet bunny from my Great Grandma E. It has been with me during every move, though one of my dogs ate it's ear, it is still my favorite of her works.

Sometimes called the poor man's lace, crochet was developed in the early 1800s and some of the earliest sources regarding it come from Dutch and German sources. Thought to be derived from an ancient method of decorated cloth called tambour it gained in popularity by the 1880s and by 1930s was being used to make socks, sweaters, blankets, rugs and more.

Tambour example

New compared to other textile arts it is has grown in popularity since the 1800s. Some argue it works quicker then knitting and although it uses less tools, only using one hook rather than 2 or more needles, they both have their merits. Both take time, love, patience and best of all yarn.

Crochet trim on one of my knitted hats.

Now as common and versatile as knitting it is done all over the world using yarn but only one hook. I will learn it.... someday.

Crochet afghan from one of my aunts. Too small for me now, I use it as a lap blanket on cold nights.

Buzzing for bees.

As a kid I loved running barefoot through our driveway and yard. My dad would call me crazy walking on our stone driveway barefooted but I didn't care. I am not going to lie either still wish I could run barefoot more often despite the dangers. In fact the only danger that worries me is broken glass. I could care less if I cut my foot on a stone, or got a thorn in there both I have actually done. I have been stung twice while walking barefoot and although it hurt, I don't care. My fondest memories involved leaving my shoes in the house, running down to the lake barefooted,  and jumping off the dock.

Joseph Holodook

The first time I was stung, it was a bumble bee. Upon learning that bumbles die after stinging and only sting when they feel threatened I felt horrible.  I have never liked bugs, though watching me at work you wouldn't know it. I am the first to sweep them into the fire or outside.  Yet for bees, dragonflies and butterflies I just loved them. I was the kid who went perfectly still hoping that they would land on me. Well not the bees but the other two.

Images found on Google images

Now for many of my loves in life bees are important.  The first is my drinks. On a a daily basis I have a juice, usually orange in the morning, and cranberry,  or grape throughout the day. Bees feed of the pollen and nectar provided by the flowers of these plants making the berries and fruits possible. Producing from the pollen they make honey for tea, bread, and so much more. The average worker bee will make only one or two teaspoons of honey in a lifetime. 1500 flowers are needed to make one pound of honey which are then covered in beeswax til needed. The wax has been used for candles and you'll find it in almost all of my sewing baskets.

So here's to those busy bees and lets save the bees.