Welcome Baby New Year

Good morning!

As part of his Chamber of Commerce responsibilities, Wesley spent the day yesterday visiting local businesses, gathering presents for Hettinger's New Year's Baby. As he carefully assembled an overflowing basket of goodies, I wondered about the origin of this tradition, and did a little research.

I found this old image of a 19th century Father Time & Baby New Year on Wikipedia. I think the contrast between young and old is especially lovely.

Historians believe that the tradition of "Baby New Year" originated in Greece around 600 BC. In celebration of Dionysus, the god of wine, the ancient Greeks paraded a baby in a basket, to represent the annual rebirth of Dionysus as the spirit of fertility. Historically, Egyptians also used a baby as a symbol of rebirth.

Early Christians denounced this practice as pagan, but the popularity of the baby as a symbol of rebirth forced the Church to reevaluate its position. The Church eventually allowed Christians to celebrate the new year with a the image of a baby, but specified that it was to symbolize the birth of the baby Jesus.

The Germans brought their traditional New Year's Banner adorned with the image of a baby to early America. This German tradition had been popular since the fourteenth century.
In modern times, Baby New Year symbolizes the young year ahead, and old Father Time reminds us of how the previous year has aged.

Due to the generosity of our local businesses, our Baby New Year and her parents should have a wonderful experience with this time honored tradition.

I'm glad I spent some time learning about the history behind the tradition. As I struggle to remember to write "2009" instead of "2008", and I try to stick to some of my pesky "New Year's Resolutions", I'll think of Father Time's clock ticking away, with Baby New Year snuggled in his arms. A new year is upon us, and is filled with joy, promise, hope, and rebirth!

Happy New Year from Dakota Cabin Quilts!

A Starry Night

Good morning!

Our week of Christmas celebrations continues, as we spend the weekend at the Cvach family ranch near Midland, SD. Despite our best intentions to arrive early yesterday, the sun was setting as we drove south of Faith toward the ranch. Like the branches on a tree, the road to the ranch became narrower and more winding, the further we drove from town. Already sparse, the traffic became nearly non-existent. As the road gently followed the prairie ridges you could see yard lights from distant ranches twinkling in the distance, a bit brighter than usual due to plentiful Christmas decorations.

A mile from Kim & Russel's house, Wesley stopped the car, so I could let Sox out for a little exercise across the prairie. Kim & Russel have a beautiful new home overlooking Indian Creek. They built the house themselves this past spring, working side by side with Wesley's mom Gaynold and her husband Tony. The home is located a mile or so, from the ranch Wesley grew up on. Wesley's great grandparents, the Miles family, homesteaded across the creek to the northeast on a hillside you can see from the house.

In wet weather, the road to the house gets too muddy for a car, and the family uses a four wheeler to get in and out. But, in cold weather like this, the road is just fine, gently winding its way across the prairie toward the welcoming house in the distance.

I stepped out of the car to let the dog out, and was stunned by the beauty of the prairie sky. The night was clear and crisp, with no hint of wind. In the inky blackness, the stars twinkled with an intensity I've seldom experienced. I felt like I could reach up and touch the heavens. The silence was overwhelming.

Climbing back into the car, I asked Wesley to open the sunroof. Matthew unbuckled from his car seat, and climbed up onto the armrest, stretching his head and shoulders through the roof up into the night. We sat in silence, soaking up the awesome sight.

Matthew asked, "Is that Heaven?".

"Yes, I think it is," I replied peacefully.

Birds in the Snow

Matthew and I spent Friday afternoon in the sewing room. I pieced a quilt top, and he played nearby. A gentle snow was falling: large fluffy snowflakes gradually covered the ground. Thankfully, there was no wind.

I noticed a few small sparrows land in the front yard and begin to eat, reaching through the soft snow cover to the ground below. Then, more landed. Within minutes, small birds were scattered across our entire front yard.

I called Wesley at the quilt store, and described the scene to him. I couldn't imagine what the birds could find to eat in our yard. He reminded me that he spread grass seed again a few weeks ago. This past summer, he coaxed a lawn to grow on our prairie hilltop, but there are still a few bare patches that he had to reseed.

"There's plenty more grass seed in the garage", he told me. "You can sprinkle some more out there for the birds."

I filled a paper cup with grass seed, and headed outside. The sound of the door opening startled the birds, and they quickly flew away, their grey feathers blending into the sky above.

Undeterred, I scattered the seed around the yard, noticing how cold it was outside. I felt bad about disrupting the little birds as they ate, and hoped they would return.

Sure enough, within minutes the flock was back. They feasted on the seed for quite a while, as snow gently fell to the ground. Some were close enough to my window that I could see each snowflake as it landed on their feathers.

Finally, the flock departed. I imagine they sought shelter in a nearby grove of trees or farm shed. Instinctively, they chose to find a good meal before snow completely covered the landscape, and I was happy they found their feast in our front yard.

With the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, this experience reminded me of our many blessings.

As I sat in our warm sewing room with Matthew and our two cats, watching the little birds outside the window, I was intensely grateful for our cozy home with its abundance of comforts. I thought of our pantry full of healthy food, and how we never doubt where our next meal will come from. I was appreciative of the love of family and friends, and reflected upon the serene beauty of our life here in North Dakota.

I shared a simple gift of a cup of grass seed with those little birds, and in return they gave me so much more.

Our Snow Day

Good Morning.

Wednesday afternoon, a winter storm blew into the Dakotas. First rain, then freezing rain, then snow, then unrelentingly wind. The phone woke me around 6am, a call to notify us that Wesley's 7 am Chamber of Commerce meeting was canceled. I snuggled up under a quilt, cup of coffee in hand, and listed to our local radio station. Weekdays, Dwight is the morning announcer, before he heads off to work at his other job, running Knutson's Feed Store. He is a font of information, faithfully relaying the latest weather forecasts, road reports, school news, along with assorted schedules, cancellations, last minute changes, and other useful tidbits.

Around 6:30am, Dwight confirmed that school was closed, and Sheriff Molbert sternly called in to the station to advise absolutely no travel. I gleefully turned the radio off, and woke everybody up, including Laurie-Ann and Hampton (her preciously cute Yorkie puppy), staying with us for the work week.

"It's a Snow Day... We can't go anywhere!" Matthew eagerly planned a day of snowmen, snow balls, snow forts and snow angels until Wesley let had him poke his head out the front door into the blizzard. He quickly realized that inside was the best place to play.

Because we were up so early, we got a lot of tasks done. Wesley & Matthew put together some new furniture, Laurie-Ann sewed most of the day, and I cleaned off my desk and worked on the website. Surprisingly, we had electricity all day, and even the Internet worked until mid-afternoon.

Most of the pets enjoyed the event. The cats, Aimee and Abbie relished in the extra attention. Laurie-Ann's puppy Hampton happily played with Matthew in a fort they build in the living room, using quilts, pillows, and the big boxes from the new furniture. Our big dog Sox, used to spending his days roaming around outside, was anxious about the bad weather, and didn't like being cooped up inside.

As much as we enjoyed our unexpected break from our busy lives, I couldn't help but worry about ranchers out in the weather caring for their animals. A Dakota blizzard is also hazardous for people who become sick and can't get to the hospital, or those who find themselves without heat or electricity. For many, I'm sure this storm brought plenty of hardship, danger, and worry.
I thought of the homesteaders who first wintered on the open prairie, in little cabins with sod roofs and poor insulation. No running water or electricity, poor heat, and none of the modern conveniences that we take for granted. I imagine them huddled around a fireplace or wood stove, doing their best to care for their young children and their precious herds, wondering if they would live to see the end of the blizzard. Many pioneers left the prairie, due to the harsh weather and difficult circumstances. But, many chose to stay... building better homes, barns for their animals, schools and churches. In the midst of a Dakota blizzard, I am amazed at the perseverance and work ethic of our ancestors, in awe of what they must have endured.

I woke Friday morning to the surprising sound of silence. I listened carefully.... no wind. Blanketed in snow, our house was warm and peaceful. I looked out, and for the first time in over a day, I could see our road and the lights of town in the distance. Snowbanks as far as the eye could see, but the storm was over, as was our "Snow Day".

From Main Street

Friday morning at 9 am sharp, I drove down Hettinger's Main Street, and pulled up to park in front of Dakota Cabin Quilts. I paused to enjoy the beautiful autumn morning and noticed other merchants arriving at their shops, keys in hand, opening up for the day. Across the street, someone swept leaves from the sidewalk in front of the insurance agency. To the north, I heard the wet sound of a window being washed, followed by the squeak of a squeegee. I gazed with pride at our storefront, our pretty window displays (thanks Ellen!), and saw some of my favorite quilts hanging from the ceiling near the front of the shop.

Our small town is blessed with a vital, healthy, busy Main Street. Hettinger has very few vacant buildings compared to communities of a similar size. Our Main Street businesses include: a grocery store, a variety store, a NAPA, a print shop, an antique shop, White Drug (with great gifts too), a KB Jewelers (with gift and books), Prairie Rose Floral, three hair salons, two banks, three insurance/investment agencies, three bars, two restaurants, and a dry cleaner.

Main Street Hettinger has a couple of great non-profits, including the "Clothes Closet", a second-hand shop staffed by volunteers, stocked with clean, inexpensive clothing and housewares. Profits generated by the Clothes Closet are donated back to the community. And, a few years ago, the Hettinger Theatre Board and local tradespeople came together to build a wonderful theatre in an empty building on north main. On the weekends, the smell of popcorn wafts up and down Main, and local teenagers have a tradition of meeting at the Sunday matinee.

I like to think of our end of the street as the "Arts & Crafts" area, as the Music Studio, Fried Photography/Scrapbook Shop, Wild Crocus Embroidery, and the Quilt Store are clustered together on South main.

Just north of us, the largest building on Main is KMM, a manufacturing company, and the second largest employer in town (after the medical center). KMM is a family-owned high tech manufacturer, based in Kildeer, ND, and one of their regional facilities is in Hettinger. At KMM, workers assemble small components that go into military equipment and air craft, and the company has contracts with Boeing and the US Department of Defense.

The phrase "From Wall Street to Main Street" has been ubiquitous this Election cycle, endlessly repeated by politicians, pundits, and news reporters. There is no doubt that the economic downturn is directly affecting Main Street businesses across the nation. As a business owner, I can't help but worry about the economy. But, as a consumer, I know that I can make a difference by carefully choosing where I spend my dollars. From groceries to gasoline, clothing to housewares, and for holiday gifts, I have renewed my commitment to shopping at the small businesses in our region, and plan to do my online shopping at small specialty e-stores rather than large chains.

If we all work together to support "Main Street USA", we will make a difference.

From Sunrise to Sunset

Good morning.

We've had a pleasant addition to our pet family the last few weekends. Laurie-Ann has been staying with us, and she's been bringing her new puppy along. Hampton is a four month old Yorkie, energetic and inquisitive. He weighs just over three pounds... quite the contrast to our big dog Sox, and our fat house cats Aimee and Abbey (17 pounds and 22 pounds respectively). He really wants to be friends with all of the other animals, but the cats are having none of it. On the other hand, Sox and Hampton play, and Sox's herding instincts come out as he tries to "herd Hampton" around the yard. When we take the dogs out for a walk, Hampton must run 20 steps for every one of Sox's.

Matthew loves the puppy, and for the last two nights he's camped out in his sleeping bag beside the little kennel. The two of them play tag, fetch, and chase each other to the point of exhaustion. Hampton is just the right size for Matthew to easily carry him as he snuggles up inside his coat.
Having the puppy here has also been good for my soul.

Yesterday, I took both dogs for a walk at sunrise and sunset. Watching Sox confidently bound across the familiar ground, as Hampton tagged behind, warmed my heart. I reflected upon the wonderful contrast between day and night, plant and animal, big and small, new and old, dark and light. I appreciated the mysterious beauty of the expansive prairie, yet looked forward to returning to our warm, cozy house perched on the hill... twinkling yard lights welcoming us home. For a precious few moments all of the daily stresses melted away and I lived in the moment, my heart bursting with appreciation for all of these wonderful blessings.

Today, We Make the Soup

Good morning.

We woke Friday morning to a light dusting of snow, and we've had a constant drizzle (rain, freezing rain, and an occasional snowflake) ever since. Despite the dreary weather, the moisture is a blessing.

Matthew and I declared yesterday to be "Matthew and Mommy's Pajama Day", and after a quick trip to the grocery store in the morning, we spent the entire day inside. I got some sewing done, we played games, did puzzles, and read story books. As we enjoyed our time together, the smell of homemade chicken rice soup wafted through the house, a delightful reminder of my own childhood.

When I was seven, my mom passed away after a long struggle with ovarian cancer. For years thereafter, her mom, my grandmother Bernice, devoted a month in the spring and a month in the fall to our family. She traveled by train or bus from Manitoba to Alberta to live with us, and "get things in order". When Grandma arrived, everything was better... she did the mending, the laundry, the "deep cleaning", the cooking, and shared lots of hugs, kisses, and snuggles.

Grandma was a Polish immigrant, and struggled to care for her family in the depression years, as a farm wife in rural Manitoba, near Brandon. For the rest of her life, even in times of prosperity, nothing went to waste. She saved everything: paper grocery sacks were neatly folded and stored in a drawer along with twist ties, bits of string, wrapping paper and empty cereal boxes. She'd use these supplies to wrap the "care packages" she frequently sent to her loved ones. And, she'd fill our freezer with home baked cookies, carefully wrapped in wax paper, neatly stacked in empty cereal boxes, fastened with string.

At night, she would sit quietly mending and patching our clothes by hand. She would carefully stretch my dad's thick woolen work socks over a light bulb, and darn them with yarn. I was fascinated by her neat and tidy work, as she carefully wove the yarn over the worn spots in the heels.

Grandma baked and cooked without a recipe or measuring cups, using fresh ingredients from the garden and the butcher shop. Although I fondly remember her homemade Polish dishes (pirogies and cabbage rolls), my favorite days were those when she made soup.

Grandma would rise in the early morning, and declare, "Today, we make the soup!" By the time I was dressed and ready for school, I would find her in my father's kitchen, standing over the beginning of her homemade stock, stirring and skimming the fat from a boiling soup bone, or a whole chicken. I can still see her patiently hovering over the stove, wearing a long apron, holding a wooden spoon, with a large array of fresh vegetables and herbs on the kitchen counter beside her. By the time we arrived home from school for lunch, the kitchen was spotless, warm, and fragrant, and she served us large bowls of soup from her steaming kettle. Beef barley, chicken noodle, ham and bean, turkey vegetable... I loved them all.

Yesterday, I took the time to make soup like my Grandma did. Homemade stock, fresh herbs and vegetables, and lots of TLC. I did break down and use a recipe and measuring cups, though. As Wesley, Matthew and I sat down to eat, I thought about how much I miss my Grandma, and wished she could be with us to enjoy the savory meal. But, I was thankful that I took the time to honor her memory, and thought, "Today, we made the soup."