Things In My House Thursday

I was having trouble getting inspired with what to share today. Anything I generally show that's in my house has been photographed outside of my house. I love the tall trees surrounding my home, and the shade they offer works wonders at keeping our electric bill down in the summer. The downside to them is that my house is very dark. Many of the things I'd like to show you in TIMHT posts are not easily portable, so I was struggling with what to share.....then I read Marilyn's TIMHT post, and decided to just copy her. Again, thanks, Marilyn! ;-)

The item I'm featuring today is this little burned out child's Singer sewing machine, but notice how sneaky I am, in that I'm using the opportunity to also show off my porch stitchery scarecrows? Later about that, though. This little Singer should really have been relegated as garbage long ago, but I'm helplessly sentimental. It's one of the first Christmas gifts I received as a child that I actually remember. I'd have to ask my mom how old I was, but I think I was 4 or 5. I don't think I'd started to school yet.

Christmas wasn't far away, all the packages were wrapped and stacked under the tree. My mom being the perfectionist she is, I imagine it was a beautiful sight to behold. My mom, dad, and brother were all outside, visiting a neighbor, I think. At least I know they were doing something that I figured they'd not likely walk inside and catch me if I were to take a little peeksie. I could barely contain my delight when I gently removed the wrapping and saw what I was getting. I thought I was so smart as I carefully rewrapped the present and returned it to it's position under the tree. Roooiiiigght. We all know 5 year olds are such excellent gift-wrappers! I did get found out, for sure, but I can't remember getting in trouble. Maybe I did, but if so, it wasn't severe enough for me to remember it.

My folk's home burned to the ground nearly 20 years ago, and my mom had my little Singer machine proudly displayed on an old antique buffet in her large farm style kitchen. It was still in perfect working order. Neither my mom or I could bear to throw it away after the fire, so I keep it on a shelf as a reminder, not so much that it survived the fire, but simply as a childhood memory I've managed to hang onto in a mind that seems to forget too many things these days!

The big old crock to the right belonged to my late mother-in-law. I believe it came with her from Kentucky to Texas, as a young married woman. I know her father used to make moonshine in the Kentucky hills. Whether or not he stored it in this crock, I don't know, but it's certainly possible.

I sewed the stitcheries from a pattern I bought on the internet a few years ago. I'd give the pattern author credit, but it would require me dragging my lazy behind out to my workshop. If anyone's interested, just drop me a line or a comment, though, and I'll muster up the energy to go out there tomorrow. You can't see it under the fabric draped over it, but the chair is an old antique folding wooden chair from a long ago church. I laid claim to them from my mom's garage when she moved. I have such a teeny little covered porch that there's only room for one out there.

It's so much fun seeing what others have in their house on Thursdays. If you aren't participating, but would like to do so, please consider yourself invited. After you make your Thursday post, be sure and go to MSM's and sign the Mr.Linky there, so everyone can come see your Things in Your House on Thursday!

Whoever says he is in the Light and [yet] hates his brother [Christian, born-again child of God his Father] is in darkness even until now.
Whoever loves his brother [believer] abides (lives) in the Light, and in It or in him there is no occasion for stumbling or cause for error or sin.

~1 John 2:9-10 Amplified Bible

Primitive Things

Miss Estelle

Several years ago, my mom and I got into making primitive dolls. We didn't have to buy much to get started in our little venture. My mom had previously worked in a fabric store where she'd spent her entire week's paycheck on fabric each week. We had quite a stockpile of it left at our disposal.

We more or less worked in an assembly line style. We'd prepare enough fabric for several dolls bodies at one time, tea staining muslin for the bodies, as well as whatever fabric we used for their clothing. Next, we'd cut out the bodies, arms, and legs. Though we had some patterns, we mostly drew the body part templates freehand. There was no need for perfection! After that, we'd sew them, leaving openings for stuffing, then we'd stuff them.

The assembling part was all rather dull. The work got interesting when we'd begin choosing their clothing. They really came alive when we hand stitched on their faces. Each doll seemed to take on it's own personality. Some seemed exuberantly happy. Some appeared shy. Some looked worn out and old. We never had a preconceived idea of how any doll was going to look before we began stitching it. All had a uniqueness that appealed to us.

When making primitive dolls, the idea is for the doll and her clothing to look as if she's been around for a long time, and received alot of love in that time. They conjure up images of a time when life was simpler, but much harder. Dolls didn't come off the shelf of a mass market discount store. They were crafted lovingly by a mother's hands from the scraps she could spare from her sewing basket. The little girls themselves even made their own dolls.

I liken sewing primitive dolls to felting, in knitting. You don't need great skills to do either. When you knit something and felt it, the felting hides any flaws you may have had in your knitting. By the same token, making primitive dolls doesn't require great sewing skills. That's a good thing, since I don't possess them. ;-)

We had alot of fun making those dolls, and we sold several on eBay, as well as some to friends. After awhile, my dad began to have health problems; plus I was having an awful time with carpal tunnel syndrome. Our doll making fell by the wayside. My dad has since died; and my mom has remarried and movied three hours away from here. I've since had surgery for my CTS, but dollmaking isn't the same without my mom working beside me.

Miss Estelle is the only doll I have made by myself. We'd sold the ones we made together. I decided to keep her as a token remembrance of the fun days my mom and I had, as well as the memory of my dad being there in the background, often offering to go get us a bite to eat, or scrounging us up some old rusty wire from the garage (a staple in primitives). Simple everyday moments that aren't appreciated at the time as being anything extraordinary, and yet when they are no longer within reach, save in your memory, seem grandoise.

Though I love reading stories of the life of Pioneers, I wouldn't want to go back and live in that time. I'm pretty spoiled to my modern conveniences. It is a romantic notion, though, and I do like to dream up stories of what life must have been like in the home where Miss Estelle first began her journey.