When your niece looks at you and sais..” We can make a quilt together!!”
You say.. ” you know it !”
And you do, and you have a blast.
Quilts are a process and you are missing the point if you don’t allow yourself to enjoy the way to the binding.
For her first quilt I think we nailed it.
So when I get back to school I will show and tell what I did this summer… created alot of fun with my niece.
This happy couple I found in the parking lot at a mega gas/cleanrestroom/walkthepup/allyoucaneatjerky stops on one of my jaunts about Texas.
No surprise that someone who is hauling around their beloved tractor was also as friendly as his buddy in tow.
Richard here was taking his 1943 work horse to a tractor show where this piece of art spent most of his working hours, now that he has been retired to the back pasture.
Richard remembers taking the wheel of this gleaming red and white machine when he was a wee lad of 8, working the land on the family farm in Ohio.
While the storms of time parted these two, fate brought them back together.
Nice to see old friends hangin’ out.
They have that relaxed familiarity , comfortable and full of old stories.
They finished each others jokes.
Old friends….You can see it in their faces.
This bright blue tractor is smiling because she has found a new owner.
For over a year I passed this work horse waiting silently on the roadside in the little town just down from our ranch. I always wanted her to whisper her story in my ear, wondering why such a beautiful machine was playing wallflower at the dance.
Then the other day I found two men all up in her grill, literally, and soon her dance card was full.
Her new owner looks worthy. What a match!
Just look at that face! The tractors of the American landscape are true unsung heroes. They have been willing to do our bidding from the early morning starlight to the last ray of golden sun.
We had a tractor barn on the farm in south Texas. The earth beneath the tires of that big John Deer was ground to a very fine soft powder. I loved feeling it sift between my toes; it smelled of oil and gasoline. It meant work well done.
You don’t need to hear the engine sputter and purr, or feel the jerk of a gear in place to know their service.
It is written all over their face.