(That could well be the theme of my life, right there.)
It was all going so well. I was attaching the final border to my black and white quilt (after having set it aside a couple months ago), and it wasn't until I did the final backstitch at the end of the long seam that I realized I had run out of bobbin thread. And not just recently either, but way back about 45 inches ago, just a short ways into the seam.
Don't you hate when that happens?
So I got up and walked away. Went upstairs to use the you-know-what and grab my water bottle, intending to take a break from sewing and go walk on the treadmill. Until I saw my camera and had another idea.
Can you just develop ADD in mid-life? Because I swear...
I talked myself out of a blog post last week where I was going to, in a very organized fashion, tell you about the status of my unfinished projects, lest you think I can never finish a ding-dong thing (and I am beginning to wonder myself). But since blogging would chew up a chunk of time—time probably better spent trying to complete one of said projects—I scrapped the idea. Until now.
But this is far from a linear post, if you hadn't noticed already. Which, by the way, according to the test linked on Elizabeth's post today, I am mostly left-brained but a good bit right-brained as well, and my dominant characteristics are the left-brained "Linear" and, by contrast, right-brained "Random."
If you've been reading this blog for more than two weeks, you probably figured that out already.
The point is, with my camera in hand, I went back downstairs and started pointing it around my sewing space to perhaps show you, in pictures, the status of some of the projects in the works. I actually tidied up my room, believe it or not, a couple days ago, so this is about as good as it gets. Organized chaos, you might say.
Here's the table to the right of my sewing machines, stacked with some of the fabric stash. There used to be a color order to this scheme, but as you can see, that system did not take, long-term. My system seems to be, "I know it's here, give me a minute and I'll find it."
There's the cute jelly roll (in the ziplock) of Sherbet Pips from Sarah's giveaway. I DO have a plan for it—this pattern, Basket Case, from Cluck Cluck Sew. Bought and downloaded and waiting in the wings for my next whim to start a new project while in the middle of 10 other ones.
Do you see that Alexander Henry "Heath" fabric there on the table? Here's a closeup.
This was supposed to be the backing for the black and white quilt, but the online fabric store goofed. I ordered 3 yards and they sent 1. I emailed them about the error and they said the fabric was completely out of stock, they didn't know when it would come back in (if ever), and I could keep the yard they sent me for free. Um, okay. Since then I've tried to find it elsewhere but have been told it may be July before it comes in. So I've ordered Plan B fabric, a black and white paisley, and it should be here any day.
Not that I'm going to rush right into finishing it or anything.
On the "design wall" above the table is this really old block I found in my mom's things. It's kind of wonky and falling apart, but it must have had some meaning for her to keep it so long. I needed someplace to put it after I pressed it, and since I don't really use the that space for anything other than a flannel-covered pinboard, there it went.
A little south of the table is a rolling cart full of thrifted plaid shirts, cut and folded, for a dozen or so scrappy projects living in my brain that may or may not ever see the light of day. On top of the cart is part of a pile of scraps Jenny sent me (the rest of them are on the futon and in the laundry room). They are destined for a string project of some sort. Just don't hold your breath. Oh, and underneath the scraps is everything for a cute Christmas table runner that I didn't get around to last Christmas, but mark my words, it will be done well before December 2011.
Continuing to turn counter-clockwise from the sewing machines, is this veggie wall hanging (and PhD project) that I should have had done in March. Ready for basting and quilting (I even have the batting there), and I can NOT bring myself to do it just now. I've even practiced the quilting pattern. One day I'll get mad at myself for all my procrastination and knock the thing out.
Speaking of knocking something out — HULK HANDS!!!
These glorified boxing gloves make growl-y Hulk noises when you hit something like, "HULK MAD!" and "DON'T MAKE ME ANGRY...YOU WON'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY!" And yes, I bought them for myself from the toy department. I took them over to show my friend one day, and every time I drove over a bump, they growled and threatened me. Who was over her Hulk Hands by the time she got home? Annoying, is what it was.
More fabric (and scraps) piled up that I am playing with. I have a general plan, but have determined it will require the purchase of some pastel solids to make it all work. I am deliberately not buying them now. Too many other undone things already.
The H2H quilt top, another thing to be quilted.
Here is my futon. I hate the thing, but it serves as another place to hold my junk, and Norm won't let me get rid of it. There's my Sudoku quilt top on the left, to be finished. Next to it are three electric menorahs and some other random stuff in the white bag to be sold on eBay come fall. Oops, make that four menorahs. I forgot the one I took out of the box.
Next to that is a pair of my daughter's scrub pants I'm supposed to be taking apart and using as a pattern for making her a new pair, the fabric for which is the dark blob on the far right sideof the futon. There is a vintage muslin sheet for a backing and some vintage turquoise gingham for who-knows-what. More scraps, and in the other white bag are the two quilt kits I found at Goodwill a few weeks ago.
On the wall above the futon is Dolly the dummy's working wardrobe of aprons. Too bad she lacks arms (and a brain) so she could do something to help, instead of just looking cute.
The lighted chili peppers serve a purpose. They are plugged into the same surge strip as my iron, so if I turn out all the lights as I'm leaving the room and still see the chilis lit up, it means I probably haven't shut off the iron.
Check this out. I bought this handbag at Goodwill, no real clue who Kate Spade was at the time. Found out she's kinda famous for her bags, but after seeing her website, I am 99 percent sure this is a knockoff. I don't think she ever did kitschy pinups. Anyway, I still like the bag a whole lot for the ten bucks I spent on it. Will I take it out in public? Probably not. It makes me smile though.
And that wooden wavy looking thing there next to the purse is a cypress knee made into a lamp. I was with my mom when she brought it out of a swamp in Louisiana a long time ago. We took it home and she boiled it to soften the bark, stripped it, varnished it, and made a lamp. I love it. I would love to find one of those 1950s drum shades for it, instead of the one that's on it.
Okay, I've rambled on too long. I will get that quilt top done tomorrow!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Quilt Making in Grandma's Time - Hand Carded Cotton Quilt Batting
I am trying to uncover the mystery of two quilts that were among my mother's things when she passed away. I am pretty sure at least one of them, a basket quilt, was made by my grandmother, my mom's mother, Lillian. The maker of the other, a Colonial Lady quilt, is less certain. It's possible it was made by my great-grandmother, who was known for her fine stitching. I have asked my aunt and cousins for their help in identifying it and am waiting to hear back from them.
Among other things, Grandma talked about how she started quilting. These are her words, in her own vernacular:
Five quilts might not sound like a lot in these days of machine quilting, online fabric stores, precuts, and a multitude of ready-made batting options. But when you're making your own quilt batting literally from scratch (i.e., picking and carding the cotton for it), bleaching feed sacks for backing, and hand quilting by lantern light after a long, hot, hard day's work, producing a finished quilt takes on a whole different meaning.
My mother wrote a narrative to supplement my grandma's stories, for which I am equally grateful. Here is more from my grandmother (in blue) along with my mother's explanation (in red) on the subject of growing and carding cotton for quilt batting:
All cotton was picked by hand. Each picker had a long canvas sack that hung from the shoulder by a strap to put the cotton in as it was picked. This cotton sack was up to six feet long and was dragged along between cotton rows as the cotton was picked. Hired pickers were paid by the number of pounds of cotton picked in a day. When the cotton was at its prime for harvest, all men, women, and children went to the field to help get the crop in before the weather turned bad and ruined the crop. It was extremely hot, backbreaking work. The dried shells, or boles, have very sharp points and would rip into the fingers of anyone who wasn't careful to use the right technique to grab the cotton from the open boles.
Grandma went on to talk more about quilting, and maybe I'll continue her stories another time. When (if) the mystery of the other quilt is solved, I'll post more on that too.
I hope you enjoyed hearing a little about quilt making in my grandmother's time. Our lives are so very different now, but the love of quilting is a common thread that binds past generations with the present.

Basket quilt, believed to be made by my grandmother Lillian.
In the meantime, I went back and re-read the transcript of a conversation my aunt had with my grandmother in 1983, when Grandma was 78 years old. My aunt recorded several conversations with my grandmother, who lived her whole life in Louisiana (1905-1991). I am so glad my aunt taped those conversations, especially since we lived so far away (I grew up in Wisconsin) and could only visit every couple of years. My Grandpa Nathan and Grandma Lillian,
holding my sister, in 1959.
"My mother taught me how to piece quilts when I was about 15 years old. I started learning how to piece quilts. And when I got engaged, I really got on the ball. I'd go do field work all the morning, and when I come in, instead of resting at dinnertime, I'd be piecing on my quilts. I used a machine because it was faster, and when I got my tops pieced, me and my mother sat up at night and quilted by a little old brass lamp that didn't have no globe on it. We just set it between us and we quilted till it got bedtime. And when I got married, I had five quilts that I had pieced myself. But they was just nine-patches and just string quilts. My mother didn't do any fancy quilting. She just made quilts to keep you warm. I didn't learn how to do that till after I got married and later years."
Five quilts might not sound like a lot in these days of machine quilting, online fabric stores, precuts, and a multitude of ready-made batting options. But when you're making your own quilt batting literally from scratch (i.e., picking and carding the cotton for it), bleaching feed sacks for backing, and hand quilting by lantern light after a long, hot, hard day's work, producing a finished quilt takes on a whole different meaning.
Cotton (or wool) carders, used by my grandmother
and great-grandmother to make quilt batting.
Cotton carders were made of wood, 4" x 9", with a wooden handle inset in the center of the long side. Each card had an inner lining of steel wire pins about 1/2 inch long, closely spaced. These cards were used in sets, one for each hand. Tufts of cotton were placed on one of the cards and the other was used to brush across the cotton, stretching and separating the fibers until a bat, 4" x 9" x 1/2" was formed.
When enough had been made to fill a quilt, they were laid out in rows onto the stretched lining of the quilt. The quilt top was then laid out on the top, tacked in place, and the quilting began. Every homemaker had to make enough quilts to keep the family warm during cold weather because [in Louisiana] the homes weren't heated at night.
"I set up many a night and carded bats. Me and my mother-in-law. And we took three straight chairs—we'd card 'em, packin' down to the top of the chair for one quilt. That's lots of bats. And we scrapped up the cotton in the field after the cotton pickin' was over. And there'd be a lock here and a lock there, and maybe you'd get a whole burr, once in a while, of cotton. And then we'd have it ginned, and that's what we made our bats out of."
Most farmers at that time planted at least one field of cotton. It was a "cash" crop that was picked, ginned, and made into bales to be sold. If the land was needed some years for growing other crops, the farmer would only raise a small patch of cotton, just enough to provide the cotton needed by his own family to make new mattresses or batting for quilts. Cotton stalks grow to about four or five feet in height. The boles that form after the plants bloom are shaped similar to a green hickory nut with the outer shell formed in segments. The sun matures these boles until they pop open, revealing a tuft of snow-white cotton in each segment.
"And we had to pick cotton. Papa'd usually have to hire some of the neighbors to pick cotton. We'd pick cotton, and Papa'd get a wagon full of cotton and have it tromped down with a top bed on it. He'd carry it to the gin. [My sister] and I never'd seen a cotton gin, so one time he told us we could go with him to the gin. That was up at Dodson. And we left home about 4:00 or 4:30, way 'fore daylight. And it was cold. And we's ridin' on top of that wagon of cotton. We spread a quilt up there so we could wrap up in it, to keep from gettin' so cold. Papa was drivin', so we got a way on over there and Papa was so cold, well, he let me drive. And he got down and walked to get warm."
"I guess I must've been about eight or ten year old (c. 1913 to 1915). And the man, when we got over there, he carried us all through the gin and showed us how it was sucked off the wagon with a big round pipe-like deal. And the man held it over the wagon and it just sucked it up into that gin, and he carried us around there where it come out, and it was so pretty and white. And then he showed us how it went on through, made bales."
Some of the boles didn't open in time for the main picking but would open later as they matured. These freshly opened boles and tufts of cotton left after the first picking provided enough cotton to make batting for several quilts if the field was "scrapped" (picked over). That is the way Grandma Lillian and Great-grandma Lela usually got the cotton for making quilt bats. All cotton had to be "ginned" (taken to a cotton gin where machinery was used to remove the seeds). Then it was used for mattresses or quilt batting.
"And that's the way I got my first mattress that I ever had, 'fore I married. My daddy had a cotton field, and when they got through pickin' cotton, I scrapped over the cotton patch after it all got open, and I got enough cotton to make me a mattress. And my daddy took it to have it ginned, and my mother and I made the bed. That's the way people used to make their beds. They didn't go to town and buy 'em. I got several beds right now that I—it's been homemade beds. But now they want hard, firm beds, but back then they didn't."
Grandma went on to talk more about quilting, and maybe I'll continue her stories another time. When (if) the mystery of the other quilt is solved, I'll post more on that too.
I hope you enjoyed hearing a little about quilt making in my grandmother's time. Our lives are so very different now, but the love of quilting is a common thread that binds past generations with the present.
For a look at the technique of hand carding cotton, see this video on YouTube. (This woman rolls her carded cotton into a puni for spinning, whereas Grandma would have left the cotton bats flat, so everything after about the one minute thirty second mark would not apply to carding cotton for quilt batting.)
And be sure to visit Colorado Lady for more vintage sharing!
And be sure to visit Colorado Lady for more vintage sharing!
Labels:
family,
Family History,
quilting,
Vintage,
Vintage Thingie Thursday
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Sunday Sundry - Vol. 32
The Hands2Help charity quilt has made some headway this week.
I did take the seam ripper to those couple bass-ackwards blocks and put things right. Then I redistributed the final blocks so the plain red didn't scream "obvious" among the other red prints.
Sewed the top together on Friday night while listening to an interview on public radio with Wendy McClure, who has written a book entitled The Wilder Life: My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie. I used to read Wendy's blog many years ago when she was chronicling her weight loss journey, before she wrote her first book, I'm Not the New Me. So my ears perked up when I heard her name as the author being interviewed on the radio, and also because I've been a big fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books myself. In fact, when my daughter was about 10, we spent the winter reading through all the Little House books together and then visited some of the places described in her books that summer. That included Pepin, Wisconsin and Walnut Grove, Minnesota, where we saw an outdoor play based on the books right there on the banks of Plum Creek. A year or two after that, on our way to visit my folks in Arkansas, we toured the Wilder home in Missouri. Anyway, it was an interesting interview, and I'm definitely going to check out her book. She has a witty and often irreverent style of writing, so I'm sure it'll be a fun read.
Back to the quilt, I put the backing together Saturday. I admit, it's kind of a hodgepodge, and I had to do someweird creative piecing in an effort to get it the right size, but I think it'll be just fine once it's all quilted and bound. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.
I had to get batting at Jo-Ann today, so I thought I'd also see what the fuss was about with the Denyse Schmidt fabric that's been popping up like dandelions all over the quiltosphere. Well, it was all gone at this store except for a little bit left on a couple skinny bolts that, had I not read the label, I would have completely passed by. It had little flowers on a dusky blue background, nothing that particularly grabbed me, so I was happy to leave it behind. Now, had they had the red/pink dots or the blue/green dots in that line, it may have been a different story (though I may have spared you the photos).
In any event, there was 50% off the clearance fabrics, so I snagged a few yards for the stash. A couple batiks, a pink floral, and some cute blue birdies came home with me!
How about some music to wrap things up on the first Sunday Sundry post in many weeks? I heard this artist this past week as I walked through the room where Norm was watching VH1. Loved the throwback sound. I thought the singer looked familiar, then recognized him from the early '90s group Tony Toni Tone' (Remember If I Had No Loot?). This song is from Saadiq's 2008 album, "The Way I See It." My blog name was derived from a twist on that phrase!
I did take the seam ripper to those couple bass-ackwards blocks and put things right. Then I redistributed the final blocks so the plain red didn't scream "obvious" among the other red prints.
Sewed the top together on Friday night while listening to an interview on public radio with Wendy McClure, who has written a book entitled The Wilder Life: My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie. I used to read Wendy's blog many years ago when she was chronicling her weight loss journey, before she wrote her first book, I'm Not the New Me. So my ears perked up when I heard her name as the author being interviewed on the radio, and also because I've been a big fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books myself. In fact, when my daughter was about 10, we spent the winter reading through all the Little House books together and then visited some of the places described in her books that summer. That included Pepin, Wisconsin and Walnut Grove, Minnesota, where we saw an outdoor play based on the books right there on the banks of Plum Creek. A year or two after that, on our way to visit my folks in Arkansas, we toured the Wilder home in Missouri. Anyway, it was an interesting interview, and I'm definitely going to check out her book. She has a witty and often irreverent style of writing, so I'm sure it'll be a fun read.
Back to the quilt, I put the backing together Saturday. I admit, it's kind of a hodgepodge, and I had to do some
I had to get batting at Jo-Ann today, so I thought I'd also see what the fuss was about with the Denyse Schmidt fabric that's been popping up like dandelions all over the quiltosphere. Well, it was all gone at this store except for a little bit left on a couple skinny bolts that, had I not read the label, I would have completely passed by. It had little flowers on a dusky blue background, nothing that particularly grabbed me, so I was happy to leave it behind. Now, had they had the red/pink dots or the blue/green dots in that line, it may have been a different story (though I may have spared you the photos).
In any event, there was 50% off the clearance fabrics, so I snagged a few yards for the stash. A couple batiks, a pink floral, and some cute blue birdies came home with me!
How about some music to wrap things up on the first Sunday Sundry post in many weeks? I heard this artist this past week as I walked through the room where Norm was watching VH1. Loved the throwback sound. I thought the singer looked familiar, then recognized him from the early '90s group Tony Toni Tone' (Remember If I Had No Loot?). This song is from Saadiq's 2008 album, "The Way I See It." My blog name was derived from a twist on that phrase!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Not Like the Others...
One of these things is not like the others... Remember that old Sesame Street song? Now, applying your keen powers of differentiation, can you tell what about the bottom row in my Hands2Help quilt is not like the others?
Actually, there are two things, but I'm talking about the one thing that I will probably have to unsew/fix. I say "probably" because it doesn't bug me all that much, and I kind of like the way it affects the outside edge.
Did you find it? The part that may require a seam ripper is that I have the horizontal rails upside down in the last row.
So tell me, what would you do? Leave it or fix it? I'm just curious.
You may also have noticed that I'm using a solid red versus a print in the bottom row. That's because I ran out of one of the red print fabrics, which I figured I might, but I'm okay with that. It's actually even less noticeable in natural light, without the camera flash. And I might even reshuffle the blocks so it's more scrappy overall and less obvious than a whole row of a different fabric. I'll play with that idea. Of course if I do that, I'll definitely fix those blocks first.
I didn't keep up with my 15 Minute Challenge chart this past week, but I have spent quite a bit of time in the sewing room on this particular quilt top, and I am happy with the progress made on it.
On a sad note, my former neighbor, for whom I made this quilt a couple months ago, lost her battle with cancer on Tuesday.
Dad had stopped in to see her on Monday, and she was sleeping but did rouse to say a few words. She had the quilt over her. It is good to know it provided some comfort to her in her final days.
Actually, there are two things, but I'm talking about the one thing that I will probably have to unsew/fix. I say "probably" because it doesn't bug me all that much, and I kind of like the way it affects the outside edge.
Did you find it? The part that may require a seam ripper is that I have the horizontal rails upside down in the last row.
So tell me, what would you do? Leave it or fix it? I'm just curious.
You may also have noticed that I'm using a solid red versus a print in the bottom row. That's because I ran out of one of the red print fabrics, which I figured I might, but I'm okay with that. It's actually even less noticeable in natural light, without the camera flash. And I might even reshuffle the blocks so it's more scrappy overall and less obvious than a whole row of a different fabric. I'll play with that idea. Of course if I do that, I'll definitely fix those blocks first.
I didn't keep up with my 15 Minute Challenge chart this past week, but I have spent quite a bit of time in the sewing room on this particular quilt top, and I am happy with the progress made on it.
On a sad note, my former neighbor, for whom I made this quilt a couple months ago, lost her battle with cancer on Tuesday.
Dad had stopped in to see her on Monday, and she was sleeping but did rouse to say a few words. She had the quilt over her. It is good to know it provided some comfort to her in her final days.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Up and Away
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH......................PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH............
What is that sound? I wondered as I opened my eyes on Sunday. I had already been woken up a half hour earlier by the sound of one neighbor across the street firing up his John Deere lawn tractor before 7:00 a.m.
...............PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.....................
I couldn't quite put my finger on this noise, however. Maybe it was my next-door neighbor trying, unsuccessfully, to start his lawn tractor in the garage after a winter of sitting idle. Yeah, that must be it, I reckoned.
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH............PAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.......
Give it up, dude, it's not going to turn over. At this point, I was fully awake, so I got up and went downstairs. The noise continued in regular bursts, about every 20 to 30 seconds. I cranked open the windows over the sink to discern which direction it was coming from. To the left, there was only a parking lot full of cars at the Lutheran church for sunrise service. Straight ahead, I could see nothing unusual in the athletic field beyond the trees.
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH............
With the windows open, it sounded like a rush of gas (no, not that kind), and it seemed to be coming from the right.
I turned my head to see the cause of it, rising up over my neighbor's house.
"Whoa, it's a hot air balloon!" I yelled to my husband who was still in bed, trying to catch a few more winks. "I'm going out to see it up close."
After all, it's not every day you see a hot air balloon a stone's throw from your house!
I stood between my neighbor's arbor vitaes, trying to be as unobtrusive as an extremely tall woman still in her PJs with bed head can be. The balloon was tethered in the empty lot that I walk through on my way to work. In a few minutes, an older woman walked over to me and introduced herself. She lived in the next block and said her son was visiting from Rhinelander, Wisconsin where he had recently started a ballooning business. They were having a family reunion this weekend, and he promised his nieces and nephews he'd take them up in his balloon. The kids had apparently decided to sleep in, however, as they weren't there yet.
One of the men in the balloon was giving his wife below his coffee order, as she was going to make a run. It was surprising how clearly you could hear him from that vantage point. He hardly had to raise his voice above normal conversation level. There was absolutely no wind.
The sun illuminated the bright design on the balloon, named "The Sleeping Mexican." The story was that the balloon had been purchased from a former test pilot. The test pilot, an Hispanic man, was known for taking his aircraft up to 80,000 feet, putting it on autopilot, and taking a nap. When he retired, he had this balloon made, nicknamed it after himself, and enjoyed it for several years before deciding to sell it to its new owner, the man currently ordering coffee from the basket.
I'd never given much thought to a hot air balloon ride before today. Seeing how peaceful and relaxing it seemed to be, I think it'd be a blast.
I walked home after a few minutes, and the sound continued for about another hour and then was gone. I hope the kids got their rides!
What is that sound? I wondered as I opened my eyes on Sunday. I had already been woken up a half hour earlier by the sound of one neighbor across the street firing up his John Deere lawn tractor before 7:00 a.m.
...............PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.....................
I couldn't quite put my finger on this noise, however. Maybe it was my next-door neighbor trying, unsuccessfully, to start his lawn tractor in the garage after a winter of sitting idle. Yeah, that must be it, I reckoned.
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH............PAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.......
Give it up, dude, it's not going to turn over. At this point, I was fully awake, so I got up and went downstairs. The noise continued in regular bursts, about every 20 to 30 seconds. I cranked open the windows over the sink to discern which direction it was coming from. To the left, there was only a parking lot full of cars at the Lutheran church for sunrise service. Straight ahead, I could see nothing unusual in the athletic field beyond the trees.
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH............
With the windows open, it sounded like a rush of gas (no, not that kind), and it seemed to be coming from the right.
I turned my head to see the cause of it, rising up over my neighbor's house.
"Whoa, it's a hot air balloon!" I yelled to my husband who was still in bed, trying to catch a few more winks. "I'm going out to see it up close."
After all, it's not every day you see a hot air balloon a stone's throw from your house!
I stood between my neighbor's arbor vitaes, trying to be as unobtrusive as an extremely tall woman still in her PJs with bed head can be. The balloon was tethered in the empty lot that I walk through on my way to work. In a few minutes, an older woman walked over to me and introduced herself. She lived in the next block and said her son was visiting from Rhinelander, Wisconsin where he had recently started a ballooning business. They were having a family reunion this weekend, and he promised his nieces and nephews he'd take them up in his balloon. The kids had apparently decided to sleep in, however, as they weren't there yet.
One of the men in the balloon was giving his wife below his coffee order, as she was going to make a run. It was surprising how clearly you could hear him from that vantage point. He hardly had to raise his voice above normal conversation level. There was absolutely no wind.
The sun illuminated the bright design on the balloon, named "The Sleeping Mexican." The story was that the balloon had been purchased from a former test pilot. The test pilot, an Hispanic man, was known for taking his aircraft up to 80,000 feet, putting it on autopilot, and taking a nap. When he retired, he had this balloon made, nicknamed it after himself, and enjoyed it for several years before deciding to sell it to its new owner, the man currently ordering coffee from the basket.
I'd never given much thought to a hot air balloon ride before today. Seeing how peaceful and relaxing it seemed to be, I think it'd be a blast.
I walked home after a few minutes, and the sound continued for about another hour and then was gone. I hope the kids got their rides!
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