a window into the Deerfield Doll house

a window into the Deerfield Doll house
they wore tatter'd silke dresses & no shoes on their feet

Friday, February 15, 2008

welcome Dear Readers


My dear Friends,

for those of you, Dear Readers, who have just found us,


I have just begun my new adventure in sharing the stories of the Deerfield Doll House here on the 13th of February.

So that you will know just how our dear Mr. Jefferson came to Deerfield, please allow me to

"catch you up" with the beginning

of our Deerfield Dolls House stories with these first 2 installments of
Mr. Jefferson Comes Calling
you will need to read those 2 installments (links are below) first and then

come here for the continuation of the story with
the shoe on the tea table...or apologies graciously accepted
written February 13
with love, your secret admirer
written Valentine's Day, February 14

I hope that you will enjoy your visit to Deerfield Farm

and to the Dolls House.

There is always much to do and much a do

I hope you visit often.
Welcome and Enjoy,
You will find them both here

beginning with

Mr. Jefferson Comes Calling

My Dear Madame....

Thursday, February 14, 2008

with love, your secret admirer

The continuous scratching of a quill pen on paper has been coming from the keeping room all morning.
I look in to see Mr. Jefferson, head bent over the sheet of paper on the little table in front of him.
He looks up, thoughtfully tapping the feather tip of the quill against his chin. His spectacles perched on his nose, he pushes them back up and then, head bent, the scratching begins again.
Catching a glimpse of the letter over his shoulder, I could see that he has very lovely handwriting.
I smile at how the black silk ribbon tying his hair back seems to always be freshly washed and ironed.
Indeed, he is such a fine gentleman.

The ladyes are occupied in another corner of the doll's house. They have brought their paper cuttings, watercolors & sewing baskets to the sunny window.
Each are busy in their own little worlds, trying their best to keep their endeavors secret from one another.
Cutting and folding bits of carefully saved papers into woven hearts for heart in hand valentines with hand written messages and tokens of friendship for one another~
and (I suspect) for Mr. Jefferson as well.

I've noticed that a certain auburn haired ladye has been secretly gazing at Mr. Jefferson at every opportunity.
Now, I wonder what is she quietly scratching away at with her quill in hand?

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

the shoe on the tea table or apologies graciously accepted

My Dear Readers,
It has been sometime since I've put my pen to paper to write the goings on here on Deerfield Farm. Life here, it seems, is always humming with much to do.
Snow falls and melts as soon as it touches the warming fields. Fat green buds are coming out on the old lilac and the robins have taken up residence in the elms on the pond bank.
Early this morning, a meadowlark was singing from the old willows,
a sure sign that spring is coming.

Life in the doll's house is also humming with much to do
and much has occured with the ladyes and Mr. Jefferson since my last writing to you.
So here I will begin again with the continuation of our story

Mr. Jefferson comes calling ~
my dear Madame...
the shoe on the tea table
apologies graciously accepted.
When we last visited, Mr. Jefferson was dangling a thin sock with a large hole in the toe that desperately needed mending.
Let's peek into the doll house and listen in....
"of course, dear Mr. Jefferson", I replied, "and again, I do apologize for not anticipating such a response to your coming."
He touched his hand to the tip of his paper hat, smiled and nodded.

From the sewing box I found an old ribbon sash to tie his make-do robe snug around his waist and a pair of old wool doll socks to keep his feet warm, for which he was most grateful.
That evening, the ladyes, prettied and polished, presented Mr Jefferson with their most sincerest of apologies and curtsies as well as a plate of macaroons.
He graciously accepted.
A sigh of relief emitted from the ladyes and he, in turn, made light of losing his footing on the tippy parlor table with a most amusing reenactment of the event which gained uproars of laughter from everyone around the room.

No one seemed to notice when, but sometime during the evening, Mr. Jefferson's lost shoe miraculously appeared on the tea table next to the sugar bowl.

We all then settled in for a cozy evening in front of the fire
where Mr. Jefferson regaled us for several hours with stories of his growing up in the woods of Virginia, his family and of course the largest hog he ever raised.
And so begins our long friendship with Mr. Jefferson,
the handsome country gentleman farmer from Virginia.