Homespun

These are certainly haunting times we're living through. I say haunting, because as a history geek, I see shades of the Civil War. Shortages of supplies was a consistent challenge for those on the southern homefront. The Richmond Bread Riot of 1863 comes to mind. We're fortunate that to date, our experience doesn't touch what they suffered through over 150 years ago. Yes, acquiring toilet paper became a national sport and some stores required law enforcement to oversee peaceable commerce, but overall, we really do have it a lot easier. We may be limited in terms of comfort and convenience, but we're not lacking in goods to the degree they were in the 1860's. So, shades, but by no means deja vu.

During the Civil War, homespun dresses became a symbol of patriotism. Previously, southern cotton was sent to northern textile factories, and then resold to the southern people. Well, it wasn't practical or ethical to buy from the opposition, so homespun became the socially fashionable choice. (Don't get me wrong, if a gal could get her hands on some good stuff from somewhere local, she would. But instead of being snubbed as dowdy, a homespun dress meant you were doing your part in the war effort.) Spinning fabric yourself had gone out of style, so many young woman had to learn and many older women had to resurrect their looms.

The 2020 version of this is the homemade surgical mask. Clearly, I didn't spin my own fabric, but this is what I've had on hand for years. I hadn't busted out my sewing machine in quite some time. Getting your hands on fabric and elastic was a little tricky at first, but more options have opened up since the need for making homemade masks arose. The name of the game in this pandemic is improvisation. Some folks are making their masks with bandanas, old t-shirts, sheets. They're emulating that bit of southern resourcefulness. (During the war, it wasn't just food, fabric, and goods that weren't easy to come by. There was a great deal of making your own medicine- even in the army! In 1863, the Confederate Army published a pamphlet of what plants they could forage on the march and gave instructions of their medicinal usage. But anyway, I digress.)

The funny thing for me, is it's the Civil War that got me into sewing in the first place. I am, at best, a novice, but I was goaded into trying by my lineage. (No, not a drop of southern heritage in my actual blood as far as I know, but instead, an ambitious German immigrant.)

It began with my great-grandfather, Otto. He came to America in the 1920s and started a women's hosiery business. His son, my grandfather, took over the business and launched his own line of girls' dresses- Daddy's Girl by Charmose. It was with him in mind I told myself I could produce something serviceable. So with only a 7th grade education in the art of being a seamstress, I embarked on making my own dresses so I could participate in Civil War reenactments. "Stitch nazis" (those in the hobby with superior sewing skills and knowledge) could easily rip my dresses apart, but I was clothed and I knew my history, so it was good enough for me.

Fast forward ten years and two kids, and I find myself thrust into the necessity of making masks for those who need them. Thank Christ they're a good deal easier than cobbling together bodices. My mama-in-law (now she can claim that rich southern plasma in her veins) sent me some elastic to make things easier. (When your fortay was period dresses, elastic tends not to be in your arsenal!) Prior to the gift from Ma, I was sewing fabric ties. Which honestly, I prefer because they're so customizable, but man, do they tack on time to the process!

We may not have the Aunt Pollys of yesteryear to show us what to do, but huzzah for YouTube! This was the tutorial I used in order to make masks: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FB--BOyTiU
Since virtual contact is the only acceptable contact, it's super convenient to have internet mentors!

But the real pattern here, is American resiliency. When the chips are down, historically, we step up. And over the last 35 days, we modern gals have been getting a taste of our predecessors. For myself, I feel like an old school housewife. I'm sewing, ironing, cooking more meals, and cleaning because I'm forced to make the time. I say forced to make the time because with two kids, homeschooling, working remotely, exercising, playing with the kids, getting my Victory garden started, and sewing- I have to squeeze cleaning in for sanity's sake. (I couldn't take nor justify the clutter anymore!) Quarantine is for sure a recipe for If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, because I'll start one project and snowball into another, and another. That's why my second blog post took so long to come around!

We're lucky. Unlike the last few major wars, this won't last several years. (Okay, so they said the Civil War wouldn't last a week and boy howdy, was that figure off, but we're already seeing some light at the end of the tunnel.) The last thing we should do, is invalidate this lesson. Americans haven't lived through an experience like this in over 100 years. That's the other thing about Americans. We're complacent as all get-up. Don't waste this opportunity for growth. Struggle, is growth. Failure, is growth. Breaking, is growth. So no matter what your quarantine experience, emerge like a glorious, technicolor, mother flapping butterfly.

V is for Victory Garden

It's funny. Back in February, I was kicking around the idea of starting a blog and phrases like "victory garden" and "gentlewoman farmer" came to mind. Mostly, because I'm an absolute geek for history. Also, because I had decided that come June, I would leave my full-time job to pledge allegiance to motherhood. So, I started plotting out my garden, selecting seeds, companion charting (yeah, I buy into that), ruminating over what was successful the last three years and what flopped. (My beloved patty pans would be out of the rotation because I was done having dreaded vine borers devour my dreams... and vines.) It would be a jury rig garden this year, even more so than years prior. Done on the cheap since I would be leaving my primary source of income. Little did I know just how scrap and scrape my garden was going to have to be.

I scored some pallets from a friend of mine and made sure they had the appropriate stamp markings to be used for growing food. Some pallets are chemically treated, and therefore not suitable for use in the garden. There's a great resource here that helps you decipher what the codes mean: https://www.1001pallets.com/pallet-safety/

Before repurposing

Once I was sure they were fine to use, I set to work

prying off planks to repurpose into raised beds. 

Our yard has a tendency to pool after a deluge, and I was tired of wringing my hands whenever

 we got a hefty downpour. It was laborious, but I get a real sense of my worth when there's a crowbar and a hammer involved. Double points for sledge. So, I started crafting my raised beds 

with the help of my cantankerous, semi-retired dad. He grumbles, but on the inside, he 

absolutely lives for this sort of thing. Tinkering, building. We got four beds out of two pallets. We also fashioned a vertical planter from another pallet, but I'll share that one in another post. 

 I ordered my seeds and some seed starting mix. All signs were pointing to an early spring and I was giddy for it. But then, a little birdie told me that we were headed for a pandemic. I listened. I got my ducks in a row professionally and personally, and last on the priority list was any provision I needed to buy, not cobble together for the garden. New fencing, an 18 cell seed starter (for $4.00 I wasn't going to pass it up). My seed starting mix had been ordered on Amazon. They canceled it due to overwhelming demands for other goods. Thankfully, I was still able to make a store run to pick some up. I already squirreled away empty toilet paper rolls... yes before toilet paper became a platinum commodity. Those were for seed starting on the cheap. Then, things went kinda south here in Pennsylvania. Epicenter, Pennsylvania, to be clear. Residing on the border of Montgomery County meant we were destined for quarantine. The governor shut down schools on March 13th and being the administrator of a small preschool, that was that. We were home.

Homeschool began with taking those empty toilet paper rolls and having my kids fashion little seed starter pots. My preschooler cut the tubes (good fine motor), filled them, and then he and his sister took turns planting herb and flower seeds.

We then put them in upcycled rotisserie chicken containers, creating mini greenhouses. You should cut a little vent in the top, and once all of your sprouts have come up, remove the lid. Also, be sure you thoroughly wash the container after you take the chicken out so it's good and clean for your seedlings.

About a week later, we put the big cells to use
and got the tomatoes and peppers started. The
tomatoes I'm particularly excited about. They're
Black Krim tomatoes and purported to have
a smokey flavor. I've never grown black tomatoes before. Frankly, any tomato I've ever attempted before has utterly crapped out. Clinging to faith, I'm telling myself it's because I didn't educate myself enough about preparation and care and that by gum, this will be my year! The peppers are nothing so flashy, but my son loves peppers so I don't care what they are as long as he eats them.

Quarantine, social distancing, lock-down, bare shelves, hoarding, citizens in masks and gloves just for a trip to the grocery store. It quickly became apparent to me that my garden would indeed mean and symbolize much more than I bargained for. I am going to have to grow more than I anticipated, not just for my family, but for my friends and neighbors as well. I was a senior in high school when 9/11 happened. Just a few days prior to the planes hitting the towers, I recall observing my homeroom peers and thinking with disgust, "Man, I wish something would make these people stand for the pledge." On September 12th, every single one of those seniors was standing with their hand over their heart. If you're old enough to remember the weeks and months following, you remember solidarity. You remember goodwill. We haven't seen anything like that since. Until now. It's been almost 20 years since America came together for each other. So growing a victory garden, in the traditional and not just the sassy and reverent sense of the term, has become a reality. I don't know what the next few months holds for our country. But if I can tap the roots of something old fashioned and decent, I aim to do just that. We have a legacy of perseverance in this country. That's precisely what I hope to cultivate this season. Wanna grow with me?