The Minnesota Farm Woman

Fall and winter in Minnesota is a time for crafting, and I have been to a few craft shows in the past couple of weeks. Not only do they give me ideas for projects that I know I will never do, they give me the opportunity to support local small businesses.   I have seen many examples of what the skilled craftspeople in our neck of the woods do in their spare time, and believe me,  it can put a somewhat lazy and definitely UNcrafty Farm Woman to shame.  Unlike these local artisans, I can’t sew, knit, woodwork, quilt, or embroider. I can’t make cute little pine cone reindeer or edible snowmen out of marshmallows and cinnamon candies. And really, who would have ever thought  that you could cut sticks and branches from the woods, casually tie them with a cheerful ribbon and sell them?  I struggle to find the time to can my own garden bounty, and looked in awe at the rows of sparkling jams, jellies, pickles, and salsas that were artfully arranged on more than a few tables.   I used to be able to crochet in my backward, left-handed way, but how many misshapen potholders do my relatives want for Christmas gifts? I once made the entire family their own berry-picking containers out of coffee cans and bandana handkerchiefs, and although they were cute, I managed to spell “raspberries” wrong, and in oil-based paint, no less. My mom thought they were perfect, as mothers always do with their children’s art projects, but unfortunately, I was thirty-five and not ten when they were made.  When the colorful leaves of the fall trees turn brown and the darkness comes early, I have a few projects of my own.  I play computer games.  I make soup. I write bestselling novels in my head. I put on my pajamas at 6 pm, turn on the electric blanket, watch Hallmark Channel Christmas movies in bed, hoping that HE will make a batch of popcorn before I fall asleep. I plan next year’s garden. If I am feeling really energetic, I fill the whirlpool tub with hot water and bubbles and read until my skin starts to get all wrinkly.  Come to think of it, there probably wouldn’t be any craft fairs if it weren’t for people like me.  There are people who are born to create.  There are people who are born to shop.  Then there are people like me who are born to take bubble baths and write about them. That, my friends, is about as creative as I will ever get.