Z is for...

...Zero, or close to it, at least.

While we have had visitors, we went up the mountain to Rocky.  Brr.  It was a chilly day, but we wore our long johns, flannel lined jeans, ski pants, hand knits, and whatever else was required.  We stayed warm, took lots of photos, saw some wildlife, and had a good time.

Z is also for the holidays Zipping by while the visitors have been here.  We have enjoyed them being around and when they leave over the next couple of days, it will be a quieter, more somber place.

Z is also for (drum roll, please) zee end!  I have finished up the ABC-along mostly on-time.  Ta-Dah!  And to finish in fine form, I leave you with a gratuitous photo of my grandbebe girls, Two (left) and Bean (right), born 10 days apart in August, and being all matchey matchey!

Y is for…

Yellow.

Yellow tomatoes.

My last two.

It’s mid-December, and I have these two left from the pre-freeze harvest of mid-October.

I used the last two red in chili last Wednesday evening, when it was so so cold.

My outside air temp on the way to work that morning…

The fresh tomato smell as I cut them up brought some warmth to my kitchen, and proved to me it was worth the effort.

Now the table on which they ripened has been handed over to gift wrapping.

X is for...

X-mas!

Not making any statement about the Christmas/Christ/Xmas issue.  It's all about me here.  I am only trying to finish out my ABC-along in fair form.

I might say X-cellent form.

Not much given to X-cess, in my mind, my best decorations are the handmade and gifted ones.

The story of my little tree is here.

I made these little quilted ornaments years ago from a book that was lost in a flooded basement. They are only about 3-4 inchese square.

finger for scale (not for manicure job!)

I spent months gleaning the innerwebs trying to find an out of print copy a couple years ago when I decided I wanted to make more. I have the templates, but I needed additional…reminding.

Then at an estate sale last month, I saw a copy of the same book. I could have waited. I still haven’t made any additional ornaments.

X-traordinary!

My mother made this nativity from a preprinted panel probably purchased on sale. The hay in the manger? Cotton yarn leftovers from her dishcloth knitting! X-pedient!!

PS All photo's biggify when clicked! The details on the bitty tree are pretty awesome.

W is for…

White Wool. Or to be entirely accurate, as I strive to be, suri alpaca and tussah silk.

But close enough.

White, at least.

I call it Alpaca Clouds! Because it is. I bought the 3 oz. of this roving at the alpaca extravaganza last spring ‘to try’. It fell into the queue of ‘to be spun’ as the fibery stash is depleted (not really!) and the shelves of the shoppe fill up.

I started on it one night just to have something started before I went to bed.
Wowza! (another W!) I could tell from the start this was going to be different. And nice. Even special maybe.

2 ply, and 10-12 wpi, 148 yards of luscious ‘I am keeping this for myself!’

In fact, I bought a pattern just for it. It’s going to be Yarn Harlot’s Pretty Thing. (And I hardly ever buy a pattern.)

Is it the silk? Is it the suri? Is it the combination?

Well (there’s another W!), I have both in my stash, silk, that is, and suri...and I am going to do some experimenting, because I can do that! I am a scientistista, after all.

Stand back! Safety glasses and labcoats, one and all!

I must have more of this Wondrous (looky there!) stuff.

Check in with Dearest Sister at Just-a-mere tomorrow to see what she is up to.  (No good, I wager!)

V is for Violets

As in African Violets.

The only thing of color I have growing right now. And I do so appreciate them.

My violets have come from many sources, all given to me by friends and acquaintances, except for a couple of minis that I bought at the Philly Flower Show with Eldest Daughter.

The first one of those has croaked. In fact, every violet I have purchased for myself has not lasted.

But for many years, these hardy girls survived. And that is all. I had them in a vast array of pots, and left them there, unfed and unattended, almost ignored. Survived they have, in spite of me.

I just didn’t know anything about violets and supposed doing nothing was better than…well, I don’t know what nothing was better than. One of the gifters had mentioned that I wasn’t suppose to touch the leaves. He probably said ‘with my bare hands’, but what I heard was ‘leave them alone’. Mr. Jack White was very knowledgeable about most things with chlorophyll, and so his advice stuck with me. It also limited me as to what I could do. So. Nothing. Poor violets. It’s Mr. Whites’s fault.

Some were born in Kentucky, and moved to the Front Range of Colorado after a sojourn in Missouri. A few found their way to my home while in Missouri. Some of them maybe 20 years old.  Maybe older!

One came from a Colorado friend, who, after visiting my home, told me my violets looked so good! She had one that was just hanging on. Could she bring it to live at my house?

That was pretty funny to me. My violets? Looking good? Well, now they sort of do.

See. Here I have Windows! And few, well...reall...no trees for shade, but Windows! And I decided that these poor girls needed something more than nothing. Even if it meant touching them. I eventually figured that made no sense, and smacked of an old wives tale. Kentucky was rampant with those! So I repotted a few, and I occasionally feed them.

Not regularly. But on occasion.

But it’s the Windows! mostly, of which I am convinced. I have blooms on one or the other or all almost year round. Bright little faces, with little yellow eyes.

Special gifts from hardy girls who have hung in there with me, making some pretty good trips, dealing with some pretty dry soil, and some long time between drinks.

U is for...

...Utah.  Where Wonderful Guy and I just spent a long weekend seeing some of the natural wonders in the eastern part of that state.

We had some great weather for it, considering where we hail from, there were record setting cold temperatures and snow the weekend previous.  Snow one weekend, sunburned forehead the next!

Of course, had we stayed home?  Same weather.  Whatever...

Back to the National Parks of Utah.  Or the two we spent time at this trip, Arches and Canyonlands, one day at each, hiking some of the shorter hikes to see some of the better things to see.

Like Turret Arch.

Like Double Arch.

Like Delicate Arch.

Us and forty gazillion other people that were in Moab for a race the next day, we found out.  Still great stuff to see, though.

Arches gets alot more traffic, according to Ranger Liza, than Canyonlands, and Sunday at Canyonlands was quiet and serene and almost mystical.

What a breathtaking place.  Only a National Park since 1964, used for pasture and grazing at the turn of the century, and uranium mining until the early sixties.  The desert still bears the scars from each.  It is a slow heal for the terrain.

So glad we are saving it.  It deserves it.

So sorry I surprised you with the guest blogger, Dearest Sister, while visiting these spectacular sites.  Perhaps it was taking the easy way out (not cheating! I had a cold!), but I did have to convince Eldest Daughter to do it.

S is for…

...Sisters.

My mother and her sisters.

2 of my sisters and myself.

My daughter-sisters.

My grand-daughter-sisters.

My daughters and their cousin-sister.

Sister-friends

All sorts of sister relationships surround me, and I am amazed by them all.  I do not underestimate their power, only at my own risk.  With so many examples surrounding me, I count myself fortunate, indeed.

R is for…

Renamed.

While Eldest Daughter was visiting a couple weekends ago, we made it a goal to hike…alot. And we did.

Our first day’s outing took us to a county park favored by the locals for it’s availability, dog-friendliness, and multi-use trails.

Wonderful Guy and I had hiked Horsetooth Mountain Park earlier this year, taking the Falls trail, and seeing lots of good flowers. That is an easy trail, but rewarding, especially when there are lots of flowers, and when there is lots of water coming over the falls, both of which we saw.

This Saturday, we hike Horsetooth Rock (R!) which is longer. And steeper. And more notable, as one can pretty much see Horsetooth Rock from anywhere in our little burg, and certainly from our house.

Which brings me to ‘renamed’. Like many landmarks, Horsetooth is not the original name.

According to Native American legend, Horsetooth Rock is what remains of the heart of the Great Red Warrior slain by the Great Black Warrior in a long ferocious battle.

And the information at the top of the trail and base of the rock reads: “Bands of Native Americans lived and hunted in this area as early as 10,000 B.C. Longstanding legend tells of an evil giant who terrorized the region. A strong, heroic warrior killed the giant by slashing out his heart. The rock is said to be the heart of the giant.”

So rock, renamed, renewed, relax, after our home renovating, it was a grand day for a great hike.

And with my R, I believe am still close to on schedule with this.

Really remarkable.

The view from the top.  Yes.  The top.

Q is for...

..quibble.

I have been going around with this one for a while.

I thought I had it with a lovely photo taken last year of Quaking Aspens.

Eldest Daughter nixed that, saying 'Lame-o'. She gave me a list of Q words, from quasimodo to quell to quicksand, none of which I could portray with photographs.

But spellcheck kept trying to change one of those Q words to 'quart', which reminded me of a particular Friends episode. The Offspring then thought is would be a good idea for me to imitate Joey doing this:

But I am not so wasteful as that. (Even if I was a little bit tempted...but what a mess it would make...but still the Offspring would be so surprised...but practicality won out.)

Quilt I used last year, quandry, query, quarter, quote, quotidienne, quality... all Q but how does one illustrate these concepts?

Then Lovely StepDaughter sent her Utah photos, where there was this one. Taken by request of Eldest, of Dearest Sister and I with our new cameras.

Here we are, the quintessential photo...of being photographed..while photographing...

No more quibbling, even if hers is the step above mine. Lots of cameras made for wonderful photos, and digital made for immediate gratification.

P is for...

...playing.
With Grandbebe Girl, and bubbles, and with thanks to Wonderful Guy for taking the photo so I didn't have to stop with the fun.

...piecing. I have started piecing the Grandbebe Three's quilt. It won't be done before she makes her arrival. (P is also for premature.)

...for Phoebe, my old lady cat, who is nevertheless comfortable with life. Playing in the garden with me, loving her some catnip, and demanding to be fed on time.

...pansies. And the wonderful I have had photographing their colorful little faces with my new picture taker!

O is for…

Oenothera macrocarpa, otherwise known variously as Missouri Sundrops/Moondrops, or Evening Primrose.

(I thought for a while my O post was going be about the arrival of Grandbebe Opal but she has delayed her arrival for unknown reasons…much to Bebe Momma’s chargrin. Maybe later this week…or maybe next!)

I brought several plants with me when I moved from Missouri to northern Colorado. Folly perhaps, but one I deemed worthy of effort. After all, the growing zones, not so much the same! But some took. (My stand of willow leaved sunflowers are probably looked upon as weeds by the current owners of my old house!) Some did not. (Alas for my poor blood root.)

Evening primrose took to the Colorado climate pretty well, and was one that I transplanted when I took over…I mean….when I started sharing Wonderful Guy’s yard.

Oenothera has several manifestions that grows all over the county. Tall ones, low to the ground…yellow that fade to coral, white that fade to pink…broad ones, 5 inches across, little ones, not quite a couple inches wide.

I am constantly fascinated, however, that what bloomed for me in Missouri in May/June…is blooming for me here…end of July.

Over ten years here, and my head is still in a zone 5b-6a, instead of zone 4b, where I really live.