Holy smoke, I look like Old Mother Hubbard, but I love this picture because of the fire. Look at those sparks flying up the chimney. What does Job say - "As sparks fly upward, so is man born unto trouble..." Anyway, there is a much younger looking woman under those five layers of 18th century garb (ha ha, vain, I know). I do love wearing this clothing, right down to the shift and stays. These clothes have a particular weight that feels heavy yet quite comfortable. Sometimes I wish I could be like Tasha Tudor and dress like this all the time. However, I don't live on a private acreage farm somewhere in Vermont where I can't be seen - I already get enough quizzical looks and hard stares from neighbors as I walk to my car on work days. Once I was in a minor fender-bender on my way home from work. It wasn't the accident, but what the police officer would think, that concerned me ("OK, Martha Washington, outta the car...let's see you walk the line..."). But I suppose they've seen it all because he didn't flinch.
Here's the makings of a colonial cake. That day I was setting up to teach a class from the inner city. They are my favorite students to work with. They are so attentive and have so many questions; for many of them it is the first time they have actually been to the "country". Just seeing birds in a tree excites them, let alone the other farm animals. It makes me grateful for what I have.