Hand-knit felted slippers

A sure sign it’s fall for me is the return of slippers.

A sure sign I need new slippers is this picture. Shameful!

Holey slippers

My friends had tried to convince me to throw these out more than a year ago. Honestly, I completely agreed with them. The problem was I had nothing to replace my raggedy slippers.

All of this is to explain how I found myself spending time this summer sitting on a beach with knitting needles in my hands.

Knitting on the beach

Et voilà!

Hand knitted slippers before felting

Confused? Check them out after a few turns in the washing machine.

French Press Felted Slippers

Still confused?

These are French Press Felted Slippers. It’s my fifth time making these slippers. The idea is that you knit over-sized slippers out of real wool and then throw them in the washing machine in super hot water. They shrink down to the size they’re supposed to be and the material becomes stiff and fabricy.

Felting is a pretty neat process. The final product is very solid. You can even cut it and it won’t unravel like regular knitting.

However, I’m not relying on my slipper’s natural density to avoid having another holey situation. I had some leftover fake leather, so I cut some soles out of that and stitched it onto the bottom of the slippers.

Let’s try this picture again.

Leather soles sewn on knitted slippers

Much cozier without the holes.

Are there any other knitters out there? Have you ever felted anything? How about anyone else with holes in their slippers… or even your socks?

Don’t ever give up

This was a different post when I wrote it in my head the first time on my drive home from work on Tuesday evening. By the time I turned into my driveway it was this post you see before you.

Work kicked my butt on Tuesday. I made a couple of really big mistakes on an important project I’m responsible for. I said some really bad swear words and came close to shedding a few tears. It was a low point.

Then on the way home, I stopped at Home Depot. I was getting a refund on a special order they hadn’t been able to find for me. The associate said, “I’ll give you the refund, but let’s try and place the order again. I won’t charge you even if it goes through.”

Back on the road, there was a back up of cars and lots of flashing lights at the roundabout I drive through every day. As I came around the curve, I saw a bad accident with a dump truck.

And this is why my attitude had changed by the time I made it home. I had a bad day at work. That’s all it was. There were other good things that happened to me, and things could have been a lot worse.

I will still recite my mantra of “Be the duck. Be the duck.” (You know, feet paddling madly under the water but feathers smooth and unruffled above).

However, what started to play a little more loudly in my head was, “Don’t ever give up.” In fact, this mantra inspired me to dig into the boxes in my office and pull out this poster.

Don't ever give up

This hung in the office at my middle school. When I was in grade 8 I finally worked up the courage to ask one of the teachers to photocopy it for me. It’s hung on a bulletin over my various desks ever since then.

Obviously, it’s been packed away too long. It’s now back up on the bulletin board in my office here.

How was your week? Hopefully it was better than mine. Let’s all have a good weekend, okay?

Golden beans

I know, I know. In the story the eggs are gold and the beans are magic. But in our case, it’s our beans that are turning gold.

This is our first time growing soybeans, so we’re learning as we go. It turns out that as the beans ripen, the plants turn yellow.

Soyabean field

The pods are plump and fuzzy.

Soybean pods

Inside, we have actual beans. Edamame anyone?

Open soybean pod

In other fields in the area, where the beans are a bit older, the plants have gone past gold and are all the way brown. I still have no idea how far away we are from harvest time. We’re continuing to learn about this farming thing.

Is it harvest time where you live? Do you like edamame?

Fields of beans

It’s been nearly three months since our fields were planted with soybeans. Well past time for an update, Baxter informed me.

Hello y’all. Baxter here. I went on a detailed inspection of our fields this weekend, and I’m here to share my report on the state of our soybeans. I can’t believe Julia’s let it go this long without showin’ y’all what’s been going on. I’ve decided to take care of this myself. A farm dog’s responsibilities never end.

First off, our soybeans are tall. As tall as me. Some spots are shorter, but most are growin’ pretty well.

Baxter in our field of soybeans

Second off, our soybeans are not real sniffy. They smell mostly like green.

Baxter sniffing the soybeans

Third off, our soybeans are fuzzy. Not furry like a dog. Just fuzzy.

Soybeans

Yup. We’ve got actual beans, y’all.

I haven’t tasted them yet. I’m waitin’ ’til they get a bit riper for that test. I’ll keep y’all informed.

Baxter’s crop report is turning into an annual occasion. Click here to read his last one from a year ago.

Behind the scenes on vacation

This past week has been my second holiday of the summer. It’s been a wonderful time with Matt, Baxter, Ralph and the farm. I’ve spent some time with family and had a few projects, of course.

Here’s a few highlights what’s been happening this week.

Vacation photos

  • Cheering on my sister as she runs her first race since having a baby this spring. She did 5K in 22:30–a great time that was fast enough to come second in her age group!
  • Checking out a new dog park with Baxter. He had a chance to play with not one but two of his most favourite dogs ever–Great Danes.
  • Taking a mini getaway to Orillia to visit Matt’s brother and sister-in-law.
  • Uncovering a family of baby mice in my closet (no picture, you’re welcome). Not how I wanted to start my Sunday morning. It wasn’t a fun experience for Matt either, who was in charge of removal.
  • Revisiting some classic (for me) ’90s TV and signing two new books out of the library.
  • Playing in the annual office softball game… until we got rained out… and rained on. My favourite wings for dinner made up for being a bit soggy.
  • Helping my father-in-law cover his pool for the season. The water was 64 degrees (about 17 celsius). Brrr.
  • Working on my bookshelf makeover with my Dad, clearing a big pile of firewood and weeds from around the old firepit and finally getting my cold cellar work room organized.

I tried not to be too ambitious with my to-do list for this vacation. So I’m also trying to be okay with not spending as much time on “projects” as I could have this week. I figure I could take a good six months off work and keep myself busy every day.

I think I’d make a really good retired person.

What were the highlights of your week?

July clouds

At the beginning of July Matt proclaimed, “July has the best clouds.”

Throughout the month, I was treated to sightings of muscle men flexing, food stuffs, animals, body parts and other cloud sculptures that he spotted.

Then, August 1, driving home, Matt said, “See, August’s clouds just aren’t as interesting.” True enough, the sky was hazy, there were no fluffy white beings to be seen.

My own most interesting clouds came near the end of July early one morning, although I’m not sure my picture does it justice.

Summer sunrise at the farm

Sometimes there’s perks to being up at dawn.

Do you look for pictures in the clouds? What sights do you usually see? Do you have a favourite cloud month?

Now for the pot of gold

Rainbow over green fields

A late afternoon downpour followed by a sun shower was followed by the biggest rainbow we’ve had at the farm. It spanned from the front field all the way to the back woods. It was so big I couldn’t fit it all in one picture. I had to stick two together to get the full arch.

Matt and I are taking some time off this week to search for the pot of gold. I’ll still be posting, but I may not be responding to comments as quickly. I hope your week is full of sunshine and blue skies.

Just a farmer

I think intuitively I knew farming was a hard job. But since moving to the country, I have a whole different appreciation. Equipment, land, time–farmers respond to a higher calling.

When I see tractor lights circling around our fields at 9:30 on a Sunday night, I understand that this is not a job.

Spraying the fields at night

Our local community newsletter printed the following poem last year. It said all of the things I’ve seen from our farmer.

“Just a farmer,” you said
And I laughed ’cause I knew
All the things that farmers
Must be able to do.

They must study the land,
Then watch the sky
And figure just what
Is the right time and why

To sow and to plant
To buy and to sell
To go to the market
With cattle, and well.

You know all the books
That farmers must keep
To pay all those taxes
And be able to sleep.

And you know the fixin’
That farmers must do
When machines like mad monsters
Blow a gasket or two.

I guess when God needed
Folks to care for His earth,
He chose “just farmers”
Cause he knew their true worth.

By Helen C. Coon