Ode to books

Have you ever read a book?  Have you ever thought about how that was possible?  Who made it possible?  

I think we all know who Gutenberg is.  Like we all know who Christopher Columbus is. We can do it in one sentence.  “He invented moveable type and printed the Bible.” Done deal. But like we don’t really know off the top of our heads what Columbus himself was like, or what his coming to this hemisphere truly meant. One sentence about Johann Gensfleisch, Gutenberg, isn’t going to do it either.  If I told you all about this book I’d be blathering and really, I couldn’t tell you enough.  Let it be said, it was the most informative novel I’d read in years and couldn’t put it down till late at night nor could I wait to get back to it.

At the time, what Gutenberg did had to be done in absolute secrecy if he was going to trump the Church and the world. This secret that had to be kept for over five years because that’s how long it took to find a metal alloy that would hold up to repeated pressings without losing shape and find a way to cast those letters fast and efficiently.  No one had ever done this casting of small letters before. Ever. Each letter had to be set minutely at the same depth or the pressing would be uneven.  The ink would run loose in the summer and hard in the winter. And then they had to set the type and print.

 It took a lot of sheep (velum) and ink and lead and varnish and money and dedication while the way was being invented as these workers who dedicated themselves to the project went along. Mistakes were made, new processes had to be worked out. Gutenberg is given the credit for the Bible but he had a crew of four men who actually did the work.  Gutenberg walked off the project half way through. There goes our romantic image of a single man lowering a press and imprinting a page. He was volatile, rude, pompous and self-centered and if it weren’t for the four men he chose this Bible would never have been printed. At least not by him. To do what Gutenberg envisioned was considered blasphemous, the work of the devil because the work of a scribe is God given. No one on earth had seen anything like this. 

First among his crew was Peter Schoeffer, a scribe whose skill with the pen was known to many.  He was taken from the monastery where he worked at copying scripts to work for Gutenberg.  While Peter was at first bitter to be forced to give up his work eventually he was essential to the work on the Bible.

Feuds between Gutenberg and their investor, the guilds trying to find out what was going on in that workplace, plague, Crusades, the pompousness of the Church, the struggle to find a text to print. None of the process was easy. None of it ever done before.

In the end, Schoeffer said, “Gutenberg’s genius lay in ordering the work, in breaking down and rearranging all the pieces.”   Actually, they printed 180 copies.  And the world would never be the same. Between 1450 and 1500, fifty short years, more than 250 printers set up shop.

If you are a reader, if you’ve ever held a book in your hands we have Gutenberg and his vision and the dedication of his workers to thank for it.  What he did was move the world forward in one giant leap.  I would like to quote a passage, “His type was artificial, yes, but even so the words it made were still the same. Vain, to stand against it: printing would roll out and inundate the world.” A printed book with letters made artificially was still a book. 

And the irony was not lost on me that I read an advance copy of this book on my Kindle.

They say not to judge a book by its cover but I had to with this one.  I loved the idea of this cover and when offered a chance to read an advance copy the cover was what made my decision.

Chirp is eleven and her sister Rachel two years older.  That’s too young for your life to change in front of your face.  Naomi is a birder.  She loves birds, learning about them, telling people about them and going to her secret spot on Cape Cod to watch them.  And when she’s troubled her nest is her bedroom.

Chirp’s life changes when her mother’s health is compromised.  Suddenly home isn’t the same. No comfort of two Oreo cookies and a glass of milk when she comes home from school.  No amount of dancing can cheer mom up. Mom was a dancer, and then is handed a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis.  She goes into a severe depression and everything is different.  Chirp always had Rachel but now she is not around anymore, managing her anger and seeking solace in what she sees as the normal lives of her friends. 

Chirp and her friend Joey discover what it means to have and be a friend as they both find themselves fledglings looking over the edge of their nests at the world beyond. She discovers what strength there is in family and the safety of the nest.   And she learns what it is to start to think for herself. Does being a “good girl” mean you don’t ever make waves or stick up for yourself? She discovers this about herself at school. 

Little things make you smile while you’re reading this story.  Even her struggles have humor but it’s her strength that draws you in. Chirp is a vulnerable young girl who discovers her own strength through her family, her friend Joey, and by her own wits as she stands on the edge of her nest looking out preparing to make that leap of faith.

This book is for middle graders and if I would feel proud to hand it to any to read.

We are quilters

The AQS  (American Quilt Society) show is in Grand Rapids this week and I went opening day with Friend Marilyn, and will return tomorrow with another friend.  The quilts are beautiful but tastes vary. Marilyn decided there should be a designation between "quilt" and "fiber art."  And we debated whether an art quilt should even be considered "art."  And yes, it should.  Fabric can be a medium just as paints or clay or steel.  It's hard to make some people in the art world understand that.

My quilting is simple. In the beginning I pieced by hand, cut templates for everything, drew 1/4 inch lines and pinned and stitched where I happened to be, couch, back porch, etc.  Applique scared me to death till I made a baby quilt for Elizabeth and it was all applique.  After that one I had enough practice to be comfortable.  But I don't glue, bond, iron on or machine applique.  I do needle turn. I like it. It's soothing.

I am just not comfortable with a machine, sitting at one for a long time makes my neck or back hurt, we don't get along.  And to tell the truth, stitching by hand is relaxing.  After walking through the exhibit quilts that were shown I really had to admire the beauty in all of them but for me, the quilts I was most impressed with were the ones that were exquisitely  worked by hand. Hand pieced, hand appliquéd and hand quilted. I can only hope to aspire to that level of perfect skilled workmanship. And  patience.

I try not to be judgmental but after walking through the vendors yesterday I told Friend Marilyn that the one word that seems to pop out of most stalls was "quick."  Quick cut! Quick sew! Quick applique! Quick quilts!  Glue it down, zigzag it on and send it off to the computer to quilt for you. Yikes.  It made me sad.

I don't put out a lot of quilts because I do piece and quilt by hand, sitting in my comfy big butt chair that lets me fit the lap hoop right onto my lap, pins sticking out of the upholstered arm, Ott light to my left.  The quilts I make will never hang on a wall.  Mine are used on our beds, covering us on the couch at night watching a little TV or reading a book. They're dragged out into the yard and used as tents, they're hung over ottomans, chairs and stools as tents, they're dragged through the house and cover little laps with bowls of popcorn tucked in the folds.

And they're soft.

   Like these.

These quilts were part of a featured display of this woman's work. Every stitch of it hand sewn. The quilting stitches are incredibly tiny, even, perfect.  I told FM that I hoped no one ever got their nose to MY quilts counting stitches!

They were beautiful and homey in their simplicity, in their teensy detail, in their scrappyness.

These little hexies were the size of a thumbnail.  Perfect.

OK, so my observation is made, my preferences noted.  That doesn't make me right and a machine piecer and quilter wrong. Fresh in my mind after yesterday's show, it's just a preference.  Like the fork I like to eat with (ask daughter and PH about THAT one!) or liking my Coke out of a fountain instead of a can.  These are thoughts FM and I talked about as we walked around yesterday. We saw everything from the tent makers of Cairo to sparkles to the quilts above.  In the end, whatever else we are, we are quilters.
(Are you still my friends????)

This is the best time of the year to eat!

Heirloom tomatoes, baby potatoes, mushrooms, pearl onions, basil, bacon...and then some chicken legs tucked in and all of it roasted.  Oh, my goodness.

Baa Baa Black Sheep Have You Any Wool

I just came home  from Michigan's FiberFest.  I love going each year...well, most years.  It's such a tactile event.  I walk along running my fingers through fleece still smelling of sheep and lanolin and the field.  Still groaty with dirt and snarls.  but oh, I do stand there and inhale.

I try to go every year.  One year I hobbled along on a broken foot wearing that big boot,  some years it's oppressingly hot,  some years PH even accompanies me holding my purchases and following along behind me as I search.  Each year I have a mission, something I know should be there and I need to find.  Roving for my daughter or the yard art in the front of the house.  Felt balls.  Last year it was the French knitting spool.  Each year I get an idea about something and file it away in my brain till mid August when I can go to FiberFest and look and ask.  This year is was information on dyeing with indigo. I did find people to talk to and came home with information.  And a skein of yarn.  Just one.  I want to see if this works before I invest in more yarn.  My main project will be fabric but that's cotton.  I wanted to see what wool would do.  One plant, one animal.

Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?  Yes, sir, Yes, sir, three bags full.

The animals were not all in yet but they were arriving and some sheep and goats were having lunch as  I wandered through the animal barns.

 Wool on the hoof. Isn't this gorgeous?

 Wool off the hoof

 And transformed into all the colors you can think of.   There was a lot of information on dyeing with Kool-aid.  I'm too much of a purist for that.  I want to do it the hard way.

 This will be a beautiful shawl when it's finished.

 Don't you love these baskets from Ghana?  I'm a sucker for them. I now have three.

 Oops.  Four.

 But the one I bought today was just a little one so it doesn't count, right?

 Bangs must be in right now.

Yesterday when the girls were here we went to the orchard to pick peaches.  It's tough picking peaches and apples because we're just getting into the fun of it when the basket is full.

 I asked Adelaide to count the ones she was putting into my basket.  I told her to put them in gently like eggs and she counted - starting from 1  with each new one she added.  Atta girl!

 They filled mommy's basket in record time and didn't want to leave.  Peaches come ripe all at once and you have to get creative about using them  up.  Pies, juicy chins, my daughter heard of a process where you make a simple syrup, put the peaches into a zip bag, pour in some syrup and freeze them.  We're both going to try it.

There is nothing  like the peach you picked yourself.   I think I said that about strawberries and cherries and blueberries and raspberries.   We're picking our way through summer.  But it's been such a cool summer things are ripening later.  Tomatoes are still not ready, not even close.  Early apples aren't ready yet. U-pick places aren't opening during the week, saving the ripening fruit for the tourists on weekends. 

Illusion of Separateness

As we go through life we are bound to people in ways we can’t imagine.  We make a mark on the lives of others that we will never know about. And in our times of sadness and aloneness if we could only remember that.  This story tells the interwoven stories of six people and the connections they have to each other, unknown to themselves.  But one small act of kindness or selflessness changes everything.

I can’t remember when I read a book, came to the last page and immediately returned to the first page and read it straight through again in one sitting.  Can’t believe I’ve ever done that.  But I did with this one.  And if there weren’t dozens of books sitting on my shelf waiting their turn, I’d turn to page one and give it another go right now. 

How many books can you say that about? How much better can it be?

Ceci

Today our Ceci turned four and we just returned from her birthday party.  The theme was "Olaf in Summer"  because every little girl in the world is into "Frozen." right now.  Olaf in summer seemed the perfect way to go on an August afternoon.

 I don't know where the time goes but for sure it goes a whole lot faster when you're counting your grandchildren's years.

 

Because the theme was from Frozen the music was playing in the background of pool party fun.

 And then Let It Go came on.  Does that song play in your head as you try to go to sleep?  Does your husband know the words?  Well, Adelaide and Ceci would drop what they were doing to sing the song.  Adelaide studied the movements of Elsa in the movie and gets right into it.  Very into it.

But then, so does Ceci.  And the two of them were singing along all afternoon.

Happy Birthday, Dollycake.

Raising readers

    Elizabeth reached a reading level at the end of first grade this year to where she can read "chapter books."  And now it's hard to remember the color of her eyes.  She reads in bed with a flashlight, she sleeps with a book in case she wakes up earlier than Adelaide (at my house they share a bed.) She reads during Adelaide's nap time.  She reads in the car. 

We went to St. Joe for our annual carousel ride, look at the street art (this year it's lighthouses) and a stop in the bookstore.  They each found three books.

 Elizabeth literally had to be steered as she walked down the street.  A tap on the shoulder moved her in the right direction if she veered.

 Adelaide isn't reading yet, she starts Kindergarten in the fall, but that doesn't mean a thing when it comes to a good book.

She had Amelia Bedelia goes to the Doctor and she thought this page hilarious.  Amelia was cooking an egg on a hot car.It just tickled her funny bone. 

We are all readers so they have good role models.  Seeing someone in this family with a nose in a book is their normal and so they follow suit.