The Life and Times of a Lavender Farm Dog: Toby in the Long Winter of 2015

Toby Jack Schmidt

Those  rascally varmintss

...footy prints,,

....on my desert again!  

Soaking up the heat...

Left behind!

(Deep sigh!)  This is what "alone" looks like

Waiting for dad's and my day to begin...

Ever vigilant

Lookout Stand!

What a farm dog does best:   farming with his dad.

Bringing Down the House (or Closing the Shows in 2014)

2014 has come and gone and we are almost one month into 2015.  Gene and I were vendors at many bazaars, festivals and shows held throughout Central Oregon during the 2014 Christmas season.  We also attended the North West Regional Lavender Conference in October.  Gene and I attended different classes offered during the three-day event and then would meet up and discuss what we found interesting, met people who taught us a lot and just as enthusiastic about lavender as we were and ate, and ate, and ate.  What did I take away from the Conference:  a satisfaction of meeting the wonderful lady face-to-face I buy the fabric from to make my handmade products (sachets, pillows, etc.), beginning the (long) learning process about how lavender affects our body ("sesquiterpenes" and "monoterpenes") and learning while watching a demonstration of extracting lavender oil from frozen lavender buds.  You'll have to ask Gene what his take was on the Conference:  it is positive but his classes and what he took away are different from mine.  This is the second lavender conference Gene and I attended.  It was well worth the money and time involved in attending and we were sad to see the Conference end.

Gene and I at the NW Regional Lavender Conference:  10/24-26/2014

One of the "big" shows we attended was the Central Oregon Holiday Arts and Crafts Show held at the Fairgrounds in Redmond.  Gene and I felt the show culture changed in 2014 from 2013 in that there was a lot of liquor this year:  wineries, breweries, even a vodka vendor.  We offered three new products:  Hardanger Pillows, Provence Lavender Wands and Printed Sayings on Lined Linen Pillows.  It was enjoyable talking to people who recognized hardanger.  One precious lady told me that she framed and hung over her mantle a piece of hardanger curtain her mother made many years ago.  The Provence Lavender Wands sold out before the first day was done.  It was fun listening to the guests laugh and talk with each other as they showed and read the individual sayings printed on the lined linen pillows.  The pillows sold quickly and I learned other sayings people would like to see printed!  One young lady asked for one that had "Best Friends Forever".  I thought this was an excellent idea!  I need to listen to the young more often.

Food Stuffs and Ornamental Dolls

Totes, Dried Lavender Buds, Silk Scarves, China

The Holiday Market at Centennial Park is one of our favorite and one of our last shows of the season.  The City of Redmond's Chamber of Commerce contracted with the Redmond High School students to make several small replicas of buildings--a church, a schoolhouse, a livery stable--and place them around the park for vendors to rent.  They have electricity to them and were decorated with festive garland and twinkly lights.  (Spaces can also be rented for vendors who have canopies or tables.)  Our thanks to the Chamber staff for their helpfulness in scraping off the ice on the walkway, putting deicer down by our booth and the courtyard, constantly asking how they could help, stopping by and making sure everything was o.k. and that we were happy. 

The weather the day before the market opening had been terrible--wind and rain--and Gene and I looked at one another, shook our heads and told each other there would be no way for the market to be held the next day.  Even though we would be inside, we were concerned no one would show up because the weather was just too nasty.  But, true to Central Oregon weather, the next day was bright and beautiful, the sky was as blue as could be and steady customers throughout the day.   

Holiday Market at Centennia Park:  12/6,13/2014

doorstops, printed sayings on pillows, moth repellents,
white-on-white hardanger pillows, drawer sachets,
colored hardanger pillows

honey, our daughter's  much sought-after lipbalm, hydrosol, lavender travel sachets

crochet ornamental Christmas dolls

quilted ornamental Christmas balls

All in all, 2014 was a very good vendor year.  To all of those who stopped by and visited, thank you.  To all of those who purchased our products, thank you.  To all of those who expressed an interest in visiting our farm, we look forward to seeing you again.  Because of all of you, you enhance and energize our lives--Gene and mine's--and we thank you.  We wish you all a Happy New Year!

2014-2016: COUNTRY FOLKS CAN SURVIVE

I thought I would start this blog by talking about the good times we had in 2014:  the excitement of having two new greenhouses constructed; the thrill of propagating several varieties of lavender and watching them grow in our very own greenhouses;  meeting lots of wonderful, extraordinary people at shows and those who took time out of their busy schedules and visited us on our farm; finding and buying a weeder which lessened our time out in the fields weeding.  We have so many good times  in 2014 to remember.   The bad and inbetween times?  I was really looking forward to placing my  arm on my forehead getting my "Oh, how I suffer" stance as I wrote about those times.  My mind seems to remember ever minute detail and I was so relishing writing about them.  Then the line from the 15th Century Nun prayer crept into my mind..  "Seal my lips from my aches and pains.  They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by."  2014 is not the year to rehearse my aches and pains.  Rather, 2014 was the year of realizing my aches and pains were pretty trivial.  So many tragically sad events; but the one event that stood out for me and made me stop and take a deep breath  happened close to home.  It may not have been a major, newsworthy event in your part of the world but, to my family and I, it was profound and affected over 200 families in a lovely, tightly-knit rural community.

Greenhouse 2014 (Prior to 11-14-2014)

On November 14, 2014, snow started to fall on Central Oregon.   The snow fell all day, covering the ground and adding up to a good foot of the fluffy white stuff.  Around 10 p.m., a freezing rain started and lasted until almost 3 a.m.  Then, it started snowing again and by morning, there was about two and one-half feet of snow.  We sunk deep and our boots were full of the snow as we walked outside to shovel off the walkways and take the broom and try to knock the snow off the roof.  We packed water to our poor chickens who wouldn't come out of their coops even when we threw an abundance of scratch at them.  They hunkered down under the heat lamps, knowing their pellets were within walking distance in the coop and looking at us as if we were without brains for even thinking they would venture outside.  They were perfectly content to stay put where it was warm and cozy.  In Prineville,  mill workers were headed to work.  Out of five original mills back in Prineville's heyday, only two remained, Contact Lumber and Woodgrain Millwork.  The employees of these two mills had two weeks before Thanksgiving dinner when they would be gathering around the table for fellowship with their loved ones and six weeks before Christmas Day when they would hear the squeals and giggles of their children as presents were ripped opened and hugs and "I love you" were exchanged.  Black Friday was held the day after Thanksgiving and people were hoping to make that paycheck stretch a little further by shopping for bargains.

Gene and I were preparing for a couple shows.  We had new products and were finishing up on some of the handmade items to take to the shows.  We were nice and cozy tucked into our home, plenty of wood for heat and food in the pantry.  If the electricity went off, we were prepared with lamps and warm clothing.   The lyric to the song "Country folk can survive" came to mind as Gene and I talked about being prepared.  

That night we listened to the 10 o'clock news before going to  bed.  We heard the report and saw the film of  Woodgrain Millworks' roof collapsing and workers being sent home.  We were relieved to hear that no one had been hurt.  The workers expected to go back to work as soon as the damaged area was repaired.  Life would continue, Thanksgiving and Christmas would come and their paycheck might be a little less but there would still be a paycheck.  Millworkers are use to the ups and downs of their vocation and know you just tighten your belt a little during the bad times.  Gene and I got up the next morning, fed ourselves, our puppies, our chickens, loaded up the pickup with our products and went to our scheduled shows.  Even though we met wonderful people, came home and prepared for Thanksgiving and Christmas, we still anxiously waited to hear any news about the people in Prineville.  Gene knew and worked with many of those affected and worried about their welfare.  Much to our dismay, the mill announced they were finished:  almost all the workers--over 200 of them--were without work two weeks before Thanksgiving and six weeks before Christmas.  Everyone--friends, family, agencies, businesses--was scrambling around trying to put together a plan to help but time marched on and these people were unexpectedly without a means of earning a livelihood.

Time does not stop for mankind. It marches on regardless of our existence on this beautiful planet we call home. Time is not personal or intimate. It is like the proverbial rabbit in the children's classic fairy tale "Alice in Wonderland" as it scurries towards a darkened hole into the unknown crying "I'm late, I'm late for a very important date' and then disappears. Time, that proverbial twitching rabbit, did not stand still on November 14, 2014. In the blink of an eye, time twitched and ran into the unknown, leaving behind the rest of us wondering what the hell had just happened.

Marching Forward in Time: January 24, 2016

I had a hard time writing about those workers and decided to put this entry on hold until I was in a better frame of mind. I couldn't finish it or proof it without getting upset. I was concerned about those workers and was hoping that Woodgrain Millworks would be able to rebuild and start back up in a few months. Working with these people brings on a whole new meaning to community. They work together, fight together, play together and if you ever get into trouble, they unite together as only a rural small community can.

The first lay off after the collapse of the Woodgrain Millwork roof was about 185 people; by the end of December 31, 85 more human souls were without work. It's hard to find work in Crook County: there is a 10.1% unemployment rate. Good people, good hardworking people without work and very little hope of finding a way to support themselves and their families unless they move away from their homes and loved ones. It's hard. It's hard on marriages, on children, on the close-knit community: it's just hard on everyone. We hunt, we fish, we grow gardens, we sell what we don't need and we barter for what we do need: we know how to survive in rural America. We don't ask for handouts or anyone's pity; we just ask that you get out of our way while we pick ourselves up and move forward with our lives. The people of Prineville and who work at Woodgrain Millworks are the backbone of this country; it is that spirit of being knocked down and getting back up that made and makes this country great.

I can plow a field all day long

I can catch catfish from dusk 'til dawn

We make our own whiskey and our own smoke, too

Ain't too many things these ole boys can't do

We grow good ole tomatoes and homemade wine

And a country boy can survive

Because you can't starve us out

And you can't make us run

'Cause one-of-'em old boys raised on shotgun

And we say grace and we say Ma'am

And if you ain't into that we don't give a damn

("A Country Boy Can Survive" - Hank Williams Jr.)

I was hoping against hope that the few workers left at Woodgrain Millwork would be able to hold onto their jobs. I was hoping against hope that, somehow, Woodgrain Millworks would be able to start back up. However, later in the year a very brief announcement in October, 2015 on the local tv station let us know that Woodgrain Millwork was closing its doors forever at the end of the year. Fifty-five more citizens of the small town of Prineville, population 9200 (plus or minus a few), lost their jobs and an era of good paying jobs for blue collar workers was gone forever. But these country folks have taken their licks before and know how to survive.


Greenhouse Collapse 11-14-2014

On that snowy, icy night, both our greenhouses collapsed. Gene had been out all day sweeping off the snow as it fell and would come in during the day, warm himself up for a few minutes and head back out to get the snow off the roof. It snowed all day and into the night but Gene kept knocking the snow off the roofs of the greenhouses. About 10 p.m., he came indoors. He thought the snow was abating and that the greenhouses would be o.k. We watched the evening news, listened to the weather and then went to bed. About 3 a.m. I awoke and sat straight up with Gene quietly saying, "I think the greenhouses just went down." I looked out the window but couldn't see a thing so, being curious, I went downstairs, got my coat, ear muffs, gloves, scarf and boots out of the closet and headed out to see what I could see. Out the door I went, down the walkway and stepped off into the snow. Well, that was just about as stupid as going outside because the minute I stepped off the walkway, I came to an abrupt halt in the snow which filled my boots. It was about two feet deep and I didn't have my ski poles to help keep me up. However, I was focussed on those greenhouses: it was 3 a.m., the greenhouses were just a few feet away from me and I wasn't going to let a little snow stop me. I couldn't see very well but I could see that the inside of the greenhouses and the roofs of both of them, as I walked around them, were collapsed. All our tables, all our propagation, all our dreams were on the floor. I got back into the house, climbed back into bed, told Gene he was right, put my feet on his calves because they were freezing and he was so warm and went to sleep. There was not much more we could do at this point.

The next evening, our contractor came out and he and Gene went out to the greenhouses to survey the damage. Yep! They're gone for, done, finished, adios amigos. Nothing could be done in the snow but, come spring, we would be able to start building. And that's what we did. We could go backwards and not do anything, we could stand there and twiddle our thumbs or we could go forward and build. Like most people who live in the country, we know there are good times, there are hard times but standing there twiddling our thumbs and crying "oh dear, oh dear" was not in the cards. So, one greenhouse went up and then the weather again decided our fate by being so pretty that our lavender budded early, about three weeks early. A halt was put to finishing the second greenhouse while we harvested, processed, bagged and sold and made products from our extraordinary producing lavender. About the time we finished the harvest, the weather changed so we weren't able to get back and finish the second greenhouse... It won't take long because most of the work is done, but, I have to tell you, the one completed greenhouse is beautiful.



Through it all, Gene and I have grown to be thankful: thankful for friends and family who came to help, wipe away our tears, prop us up when we listed a little to the "poor little me" syndrome. We have watched and learned from our families who raised us to be who we are today, the friends from childhood to adulthood who put up with us, almost all people who lived in small rural tight-knit communities like Prineville. Good people, good hardworking people, resilient, strong in body, strong in mind and strong in character. Country folks do know how to survive but, more than that, we know how to live.

These Gifts of Mine... The Message of Christmas

My children asked me, "Mom, what do you want for Christmas?"

I replied, "Come home."

They laugh.  "Mom, what do you want for Christmas?"  "I want you home." and the phrase repeats over and over in my head.  "I want you home.  I want my family home."

My children know me, whether I answer them as they wish or not, and they gave such wonderful gifts this Christmas:  gifts exchanged among wife and husband, children and grandchildren.  So many gifts.  So blessed.  Family gathered in a circle upstairs, Luke II read by grandson, packages taken from under the tree--and in the tree--by another grandson as each name and giver of the gift was read.  Laughter.  Teasing.  Joking.  Thank yous.  Gifts finally all dispersed and time given for each tag to be read, each gift opened, remarks made and especially thanking the giver as we went around the circle.  A family circle.  A family come home.  From out of nowhere, a remembrance of loved ones who could not come home suddenly flooded my thoughts.  Tears choked back knowing there were no gifts under the tree, or in a pile because some of our loved ones would not be home this year or ever again.

My daughter and my son both gave me gifts of bees:  precious, sweet, thoughtful.  I opened the first gift and wrapped the bee scarf around my neck.  It looked at home with the sparkley, golden shirt a once tiny grandson had chosen as his gift for me many Chrismases ago.  Then, when everyone had opened a gift and it came my turn again, I chose a big, square box. A perfect bee cookie jar!  For me!  First, a bee scarf and now a bee cookie jar!  "Where are you going?" my family asked as I grabbed the cookie jar and ran down the stairs.  Home.  This gift had a forever home downstairs on my kitchen table.

"Is there anything else?" I was asked.  I thought.  I shook my head back and forth.  No, I couldn't think of anything.  I could think of nothing but that my family be home.  Gathered around the table:  laughing, eating, a joyful noise for their mom!  That is what I yearned for the most this Christmas.  "Is there any saying you like, mom?" asked my son.

"Yes," I replied.  "There is a 15th Century Nun's Prayer that I like."  I read it to them.  They laughed.  This nun knew their mom on intimate terms, even if they never met and one was born in the 15th century.

Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody: helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all but Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a Saint – some of them are so hard to live with – but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, Lord, the grace to tell them so.

Amen

"Anything else?" my son asked.  "Yes."  I replied.  "I want something to remind me of Little Duck."

And, so it was, on Christmas Eve, I received Little Duck.  I cried when I opened this gift.  My family cried with me.  I again grabbed the gift and ran down the stairs.  My family didn't ask where I was going this time.  They knew I was taking Little Duck to his forever home.  Little Duck is on the lamp overlooking my chair.  He will constantly be a reminder of how fragile life is, to be kind and always, no matter what, embrace and say "I love you" when saying goodbye for, who knows, it could be for the last time.

Christmas is over physically but emotionally, this Christmas lingers on in my heart.  My family was home for such a short time.  They are now in their respective homes, as it should be for grownup children.  But, for that brief moment in time, our home resounded with laughter and talking and cooking (and eating more and richer foods than any human should).  I am overwhelmed as I write this of the love my family and friends displayed.  More than the physical gifts; their love manifested itself in its actions towards me, towards one another and towards those whom they came into contact.  There is a children's poem, entitled "Message of Christmas" by Rega Kramer McCarty that goes...

"What did the Christ Child teach us

By the humbleness of His birth?

What word came easiest to His lips,

As He walked with men on earth?

What spirit exemplifies His life,

A commandment for God above--

What is the message of Christmas time...

The wonderful message of LOVE.

And, so, from my house to your house, I wish you a belated Merry Christmas.  

Come Home, It's Harvest Time

It's a Sunday, a beautiful day outside, frost on the ground, leaves that are left on the trees are a plethora of reds, oranges, yellows with touches of lime green and I'm a little melancholy today.  It is fall:  Gene turned back the clocks one hour last night and yesterday, while I was busy getting ready for holiday shows, he and the boys loaded up the apples in the pickup, drove  to Kristi's next door and made apple cider.  It was reminiscent:  the last time we made apple cider, Gary was alive.  Mixing the different varieties of apples, Gary made the best apple cider I ever drank.  When people come to visit, we put a little caramel topping in the bottom of a cup, pour in some heated cider, put some whipping cream on top of that, a drizzle of caramel topping and three red hot candies and we would have in our hands a powerful lipsmacking, ahhhh-inspiring fall drink.

The boys came over a few weeks ago and helped Gene pick the apples.  Another one of those crisp, fall days, we could not have asked for better weather for picking (and grinning):  Delicious, Granny Smith, Northern Spy (and a few other varieties) blended into one mindblowing liquid.  Each apple variety bringing its own flavoring to make the little taste buds explode with ecstasy and, believe you me when I say our little taste buds were working overtime with the vision of what these little fruits were about to bestow upon us.  We were provided a bountiful harvest this year, small, firm, juicy--it makes my mouth water just thinking (and writing) about them.  

 Gene brought out the hand cart and an empty box and he, Nick and Jake started on the Yellow Delicious tree.  The barrage of trash talk these three voiced kept me on the second story deck longer than needed to snap these photos.  I needed to be in the house getting things done but it was such a joy to my heart to watch these three with one another.  I did not, however, want to get caught in the quick sharp-tongued wit of these three.  Each one comes with their own expertise in describing the downfall of the other and, at times, it was hard to hold the camera still.  However, I did listen and I did learn each one's strengths and weaknesses... as least some of them, as seen through the eyes of the other two.  

 Once through picking the apples off the Yellow Delicious tree, it was time to move on to the Red Delicious tree.  Grandpa gets out the tractor, Nick hops into the bucket, and Nick and the bucket are lifted up to the higher tree branches.  The deer and I love this tree.  There is something satisfying to go outside and work, then, when the growlies (before the hungries) come, just go pick a couple apples off the tree and munch on them.  It helps to take the edge off the hungries and I can stay outside a little longer.  This apple orchard not only fed Gene and I, it also fed many deer who found respite from the many humans and dogs in the area.  We left them alone, enjoying their beauty--fawn, doe and buck--and the peacefulness they brought to the orchard as they munched on apples, always vigilant of where we were, and then laid down after having a meal.

Jake has the apple picker and, as you can see, he loves me.  Nick and Jake keep my little gray cells turning.  I love listening to them, listen to their views on the world, views of each other (remember, they are brothers!), views on their grandpa and grandma (we are loved but need to become more tuned in to the 21st Century--much, much more), meet their friends and listen to their interaction with one another.  These two young people are our future and, as I see it, the future is exciting and bright and positively good.    I look at them and, sometimes, I just well up inside because of who they are and who they have become.Yuck!  The thought of having to change their diapers when they were babies just popped unexpectedly into my head so, there goes that gooey lovey-dovey thought (and the tears in my eyes quickly vanished as well)!  

The outcome of all that hard work on the beautiful fall days was about 30 gallons of cider.  When I was a little girl, we use to sing a song, "Come home, come home, it's supper time.  The shadows lengthen fast.  Come home, come home, it's supper time.  I'm going home at last."   For some reason, as the apples were being harvested, I thought of this song and how it reasonated with my life.  Another fall, another harvest.  Another coming home and preparing for the winter.  Whether it is with the bounty of the earthly harvest, or the bounty of the heavenly harvest, the thought struck me and there is comfort in knowing we will all go home at last.

Jim Reeves – Suppertime Lyrics

Many years ago in days of childhood
I used to play till evenin' shadows come
Then windin' down that old familiar pathway
I'd hear my mother call at set of sun
Come home, come home it's supper time
The shadows lengthen fast
Come home, come home it's supper time
We're going home at last
Some of the fondest memories of my childhood
Were woven around supper time
When my mother used to call
From the backsteps of the old homeplace
"Come on home now son, it's supper time"
Ah, but I'd love to hear that once more
But you know for me time has woven the realization of
The truth that's even more thrilling and that's when
The call come up from the portals of glory
To come home, for it's supper time
When all of God's children
Shall gather around the table
Of the Lord himself
And the greatest supper time of them all
Come home, come home, it's supper time
The shadows lengthen fast
Come home, come home, it's supper time
We're going home at last

Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue

I have been all day reading about and posting on the website of Still Waters Lavender (www.stillwaterslavender.com):  so much to learn that it frazzles the brain.  Three "old" products still stay on the website:  standard lavender wands, chicken moth repellents (can't seem to keep them in stock) and dried lavender buds for sell.  In the "Dried Lavender Buds" category, there are angustifolia (aka English Lavender):  'Folgate' (this is my husband's favorite lavender), 'True Hidcote', 'Miss Katherine' (a sweet-tasting lavender), 'Sachet' (I've used all this in my sachets this year so have none to sell), 'Purple Bouquet' (beautiful wreaths), and 'Melissa'.    Lavendula x intermedia:  'Grosso' (wonderful in sachets, potpourris), 'Gros Bleu' (these are deep blue and beautiful next to the 'Edelweiss'), 'Edelweiss' (a white lavender) and beautiful 'Impress Purple' (I just liked walking by this one in the field).  I also posted three new items Still Waters Lavender will offer this year:

1.  Provence Lavender Wand:  I first saw these in Seattle at Pike's Market.  Beautiful and different and I couldn't get them off my mind... I had never seen anything like them and I couldn't figure out how to make them.  Finally, I found instructions on how to make them and, voila!

2.  Linen Pillows:  Did you know you can use your printer to print on fabric!  I didn't until this summer and it is so much fun.  Find a saying, buy some fabric and you're on your way to creating some personal and fun items for your home.  Add in lavender and, not only is it personal and fun, it's downright good smelling!  I made one for a friend who had lost a much beloved animal.  She cried, I cried:  it was a joy to make and, I hope, a loving remembrance for her.
3.  Hardanger White-on-White Lavender-Filled Sachet/Ornament:   Hardanger is beautiful and practical!  It is also unforgiving!  If starts out as a simple whip stitch but, if you are off one little thread, then it's time to start unraveling because it has to be accurate.  I love to look through the Hardanger books because of the most exquisite beautiful patterns and photographs of the finished product.  There are stitches I never will learn, hand crafted by women of unbelievable talent.  However, there are some simple stitches I do and I made them into sachets/ornaments filled as full as I could get them with 'Grosso' lavender.

Now that I look at the title of this post, perhaps I should revise the saying to be more accurate:  "some things old, some things new, ideas borrowed and lavender, too".

How to Crochet a Christmas Lavender Ornament

The doll on the left is crocheted with doublestitch;
the doll on the right is crocheted with treble stitch.

Supplies Needed:  Crochet Thread #5,
Crochet Needle #5, Dried Lavender on Stem
 and Scissors

Glue and Wooden Beads

Body: chain 15. Close with slip stitch. Then three rows of treble crochet (or double crochet). Then five rows of chain 5 (4) and single stitch in loop.

Arms: Tie about 18 inches of thread around bead and 9 chain stitch crochet both threads.

Tie the thread off by pulling it through the loop and then fasten on either side of crochet body.

Hat: 5 chains, join with slip stitch. Then chain 4 (3), and 19 treble crochet (dc) twice. two chains then sc in next treble crochet (dc), sc. Finish row. Then rows 5-9 are treble crochet (double crochet) in each sc making two rows. This is the brim. For the hanger, chain 40 and attach to top of hat. Be careful where you place the hanger because the ornament will tip too much if placed too far back. Glue the hat onto a wooden ball.

Take a bunch of lavender, tie it off and place in skirt. Take a short piece of thread and tie around doll, tie down arms to side and tie ends into a bow. Break off the extra lavender stems and apply glue. Tie a small length of crochet thread around the arms and tie a bow.  (This holds on the lavender as well as holds the arms down.)

 We are now ready to assemble the head to the body. Let dry and, voila, a Christmas ornament!

Not only the varigated purple and purple, but try other colors of thread!