Whiteley Creek Homestead Bed and Breakfast

mary did you know

Mary, did you know? Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mN70R-3ao0U

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm a storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little Baby you've kissed the face of God?

Oh, Mary, did you know

Mary, did you know

The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.

Oh, Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.

patchouli

puh-choo-lee

 
This patchouli oil sparkled in the afternoon sunshine where I set it atop a porch railing with the autumn-leafed trees in the background. The genie-in-a-bottle flask is as special as its contents. It was one of those unique-to-me sort of gifts that only comes by way of someone who knows you as well as you know yourself. In this case, it was my daughter Heather.

Commonly referred to as "hippie perfume" because of its popularity in the 1960s by those who lived an alternative lifestyle, patchouli is a bushy herb of the mint family that thrives in tropical regions. Derived from the plant's dried leaves, the oil has a calming effect to ease tension, soothes dry chapped skin, and its antifungal properties are useful in treating athlete's foot. The pungent, earthy, musty, scent is penetrating, so go with just a little dab if used as a perfume.

In the late 60s and early 70s, I wore two perfumes - Windsong, that could be purchased cheaply at a dime store, and Patchouli Oil. During that time, I worked as a cashier at the Scott Store located in the East Brainerd Mall, which was the first indoor mall to be built in Brainerd. When I was assigned the register closest to the exit to the parking lot (as opposed to the register going out into the mall's hallway), Aggie, an energetic coworker with white hair who I thought at my young age must be in her late 70s but was probably 50 something, ordered and stocked products like sponges, cleansers, measuring cups and bowls, oilcloth, etc. in the household department near my register. Whenever I wore patchouli oil, she was very vocal about trying to uncover where "that musty smell" was coming from. She moved boxes of merchandise waiting to be displayed on store shelves, searched underneath stock that hadn't moved in a long period, cleaned out the shelves in the cabinet where the register sat... trying to find the source of the mustiness to eliminate it. I wasn't brave enough to tell her that it was me. So Aggie. I'm telling you now. It was me. You can stop looking.

rick

My brother Rick was born on September 29, 1958. It is his birthday today.

 
 
Sadly, after exhausting every resource and valiantly enduring much suffering attempting to overcome his cancer, he passed away on August 24, 2011 at the age of 52 years 10 months and 26 days. Here he stands next to his farmall tractor on his beloved farm near Isanti, Minnesota where he called home. 

 

His wife, Julie, wrote the most touching, comforting poem that was included in the funeral program.

When my journey is done
and my time here is at end
I hope you recall the good that I've done
and remember me as your friend

The sickness I bore
It ravaged me
The pain is no more
I have been set free

Just remember my love
that I am watching over you
Looking down from above
So do not be blue

The pain is all gone
My body is strong
I know people here
and I am getting along

Can't wait till I see you again
It will be soon
But only God
knows when

Until I reach out that day
To take your hand
Continue to live out
God's perfect plan

Rick, my brother David (who died  in 1990 at age 45 from lung cancer contracted from handling Agent Orange during the Vietnam War), and I share a special bond. Our birthdays are one day after the other... Rick Sept. 29, me Sept. 30, and David Oct.1. Happy birthday, Rick! Happy birthday, David! I'll bake a cake and light candles for us.  

mothers day

Mothers Day... springtime... pure happiness. All bundled into this masterpiece created by my six year old granddaughter, O, that I received today. I feel the love.  

hands that crochet

In each cabin and inn room at my bed and breakfast, there is a crocheted doily. It may be under a lamp, a vase, or draped across a nightstand. Each one was handmade by my mother. Throughout the years she made many... too many to count... we should have. As she grew older, her mind remained sharp to read pattern instructions. Her hands grew old, but her fingers remained nimble.

 
Whenever I would stop by for a wee visit, she was crocheting. She would ask about my day... Had I tried any new recipes to prepare for my bed and breakfast guests? She would often share her Capper's Weekly (a homey newspaper familiar to me as a child and now called Capper's Magazine) that always held tried-and-true recipes that readers had submitted. What antics had my chickens been up to? We would talk about the asparagus and rhubarb shoots poking through the soil in the spring... the pussy willows and lilac buds, the cream of asparagus soup recipe tucked into my CSA basket that I planned to try, and the rhubarb custard pies that she baked each spring with freshly cut rhubarb from her garden. She would share the doily she was presently working on. Our chats were about nothing really... and yet so much. Now, her 93 year old hands have stopped crocheting. Our chats have now ceased... or have they? No, we still have our chats. Why just today, I walked our property in search of signs of spring. I brushed the decayed leaves aside... remnants of autumn past. "There... see, mom. Bright red rhubarb shoots to be made into pie. I will use your recipe. Oh, and look... pussy willows bursting forth along the path beside our wetlands and budding dwarf korean lilac bushes along the sidewalk leading to my front door. What pretty early spring bouquets they will make! As I prepare my cabins and inn rooms for opening in two weeks, your doilies will be there."

wabi sabi

Wabi-sabi, an ancient philosopy rooted in Zen Buddhism, is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection. An easily understood example, from the October 2010 issue of Whole Living Magazine Wabi Sabi Your Life: 6 Strategies for Embracing Imperfection by Gretchen Roberts, is "asymmetrical heirloom vegetables, handmade pottery, crow's feet, and the frayed sleeves of a favorite wool sweater." Loosely translated, wabi is simplicity and sabi means the beauty that comes with age and wear. Roberts focuses on six areas in which the wabi-sabi philosophy can be implemented: relationships, food, home, beauty, closet, and work. Relationships Accept the imperfections of others and yourself. Food Gathering, preparing, creating the dining environment, and consuming meals should be a purposeful engagement of the senses. Home Appreciate the natural aging of things you own as you grow old with them. Thrift shop finds and handmade items have more meaning than shiny, new purchases. Beauty Embrace the aging process and be open to seeing new kinds of beauty in ourselves. Closet Appreciate what you already have rather than acquiring new things. Work Align your actions and words to your values. Be authentic. Keep small frustrations in perspective.    

When I buy clothing, I appreciate when the stitch lines aren't perfectly straight because it has a homemade look and I can more easily envision and appreciate the person who sewed the garment. When I sew, however, I strive for a perfectly constructed finished product. To wabi-sabi this part of my life, I am implementing some shortcut sewing methods from Amy Karol's Bend-the-Rules Sewing Book and learning "when not to sweat the small stuff." I am beginning to plan my projects for the approaching winter and my goal is three-fold: to accept... and, more importantly, celebrate a less than perfect end-product to 1)more fully enjoy the process, 2)finish projects more rapidly, and 3)achieve the handmade look I desire. Where might wabi-sabi make a difference in your life? 

 

My summary is a simplistic view of wabi-sabi. It is me trying to bring some of its meaning into my own life. To delve more deeply into the philosophy, there are many books available. A few that I found when searching on Amazon are Wabi Sabi Simple: Create beauty. Value imperfection. Live deeply. by Richard Powell, Living Wabi Sabi: The True Beauty of Your Life by Taro Gold, Practical Wabi Sabi by Simon G. Brown, and Wabi Sabi: The Art of Everyday Life by Diane Durston.  

i'm the queen

If you do not know... a few years ago I crowned myself "queen of the meadow blooms." We can do that... anyone can. I received this birthday card from my daughter, Lisa.  

 

Inside the card, my two year-old granddaughter, Caitlin, drew me a circle. It's the simple things that bring the spirit joy. 

 

monkey fabric

My daughters tell their kids stories. One story my daughter Heather has retold is that each year, when I was growing up, I spent hours looking through a Fall/Winter Sears Catalog choosing the perfect fabrics for dresses my mom would sew for the new school year. One year, I chose a fabric with monkeys printed all over it.   

 
My 6 year-old granddaughter, O'Malley, gave me this drawing and swatch of monkey fabric for my birthday because I like to sew and the fabric reminded her of the story. Isn't it the sweetest gift one could receive? 

sweatshirt

Just in time for October's cooler temperatures, my daughter Jessie gave me a sweatshirt for my birthday. I had complimented her on the sweatshirt she was wearing... and she remembered.

 
It is an oxford gray Champion Sweatshirt that has extra little details... a raw edged cuff stitched on top of the sleeve, rather than a finished seam, which gives it a handsewn look.

 

A stitched triangle at the base of the neck adds a spot of detail to its solid color... a perfect shade of gray.

 
It's slimmer cut is roomy enough so as movement is not restricted, but it doesn't look like I'm wearing one of Dick's sweatshirts. The inside is lined with a layer of fleece making it soft, cozy, and warm. My trip to Bayfield for my birthday spent with Dick... and my three girls and all their sweetness. My birthday was most perfect. Yes, perfect. 

first day of school

The school buses are on the move again...

This photo was taken by Dispatch photograper Kelly Humphrey last year at the start of the school year and appeared in the newspaper on September 9, 2009. I love how the children have a look reminiscent of the animation in the movie Polar Express.