Good Friday morning...on this
FRIDAY the 13th!!!
Today I've released my newest
pattern hot off the press....
~ LUCKY DOG ~
~ Lucky Dog Sampler & Pinkeep Necklaces ©2014 Scattered Seed Samplers ~
My newest pattern includes the Luck Dog Sampler ~ stitch count 82W by 57H.
The little dog motif can be stitched in either dark grey, brown or off white.
"Needlekeep Necklaces" exclusively from Scattered Seed Samplers. These
needlekeeps are in three different sizes small, medium & large.
The pattern includes complete instructions, pattern pieces and chart...the
construction of these little needlekeeps may surprise you!
"Luck Dog" is available today through my Etsy shop or you may order by sending
me an email.
After such a long winter, it's so wonderful to see and smell all the
beautiful flowers blooming....
~ Good old fashioned Peonies ~
There are so many different shades of Peonies!
Check out the amazing contrast of light & dark green on the
leaves of this tree!
Here in Wisconsin we are being blessing with a beautiful
cool spring, and the flowers just love it!
I love anything viney....especially when it wraps itself around
a fence like this.
Look at the pretty colors of these delicate, purky flowers!
This is a photo over one of our farmfields....the sky was such lovely shades
of purples and pinks.
And now for something a little different....my dear friend Olga (hi Olga) sent
me an email with this incredible TRUE STORY , it is so touching
I would like to share it with you ~
~ A Girl With An Apple ~
August 1942 ~ Piotrkow, Poland
The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women &
children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had
gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus,
which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our
family would be separated. 'Whatever you do,' Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me,
'don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen. 'I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off.
That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker. An SS man approached me, boots
clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up & down, and then asked my age.
'Sixteen,' I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers & other healthy young
men already stood. My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick & elderly people. I whispered to Isidore, 'Why?' He didn't answer.
I ran to Mama's side & said I wanted to stay with her. 'No, she said sternly. 'Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.' She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.
My brothers & I were transported in a cattle car to Germany...We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night later & were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms & identification numbers. 'Don't call me Herman anymore.' I said to my brothers. 'Call me 94983.'
I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number. Soon, my brothers & I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin...One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice. 'Son,' she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel.' Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.
A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German. 'Do you have something to eat?' She didn't understand. I inched closer to the fence & repeated the question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin & gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket & threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, 'I'll see you tomorrow.'
I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better ye, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread & apples.
Nearly seven months later, my brothers & I were crammed into a coal car & shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia....'Don't return,' I told the girl that day. 'We're leaving. I turned toward the barracks & didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.
We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down & Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM. In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over. I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited. But at 8 AM there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers. Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none. My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.
Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust & trained in electronics. Then I came to America, where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years. By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.
One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. 'I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date.' A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date & her friend Roma. I had to admit, for a blind ate this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind & smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls & green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life. The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too!
We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time. We piled back into Sid's car, Roma & I sharing the backseat. As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, 'Where were you,' she asked softly, 'during the war? 'The camps,' I said. The terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss...I had tried to forget. But you can never forget. She nodded. 'My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from Berlin,' she told me. 'My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers.' I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were both survivors, in a new world. 'There was a camp next to the farm.' Roma continued. 'I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day.' What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. 'What did he look like? I asked. 'He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months.' My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be. 'Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben? Roma looked at me in amazement. 'Yes!' 'That was me!' I was ready to burst with joy & awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My ANGEL.
'I'm not letting you go.' I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait. 'You're crazy!' she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week. There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, she had come to the fence & given me hope.
Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go. That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children & three grandchildren, I have never let her go.
Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach, Florida.
THIS STORY IS BEING MADE INTO A MOVIE CALLED
~ THE FENCE ~
I hope you enjoyed this touching story as much as I did!
Look at the kindness in this dogs eyes....what a sweetheart!!!
(This was a picture from a dog calendar)
Don't forget this is Father's Day weekend!
I'm looking forward to designing my next pattern....I've already got
Have a wonderful weekend, spent with the ones you love.
~ Kindly, Tammy ~