Grocery bag production is in full swing.

Making a business out of my sewing.

Making a quilt, one month at a time.

Happy tax day.

In which I try to wander, with mixed results.

Dealing with chicken poop.

My sewing room isn’t likely to become a sweatshop.

The slower pace of the winter months is over now.

Fifty-three years of fundraising for an all-volunteer fire department in rural Montana.

It will look like a bag eventually, I promise.

At least it wasn’t a quilt.

The ground squirrels will have nowhere to hide.

It’s a wonder sometimes that I am a functioning adult.

It’s only been a couple of years in the planning stages.

There is no such thing as “too many trucks,” toy ones or otherwise.

You never know when it might come in handy.

Take your wife to the sporting goods store.

If only real life came with snow tires.

In order to make things happen.

The calendar says spring but the yard says winter.