UpCycling an Emergency Candle

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle, which appeared in the Sunday, Oct 18, 2013 edition.
Time for another “how to” House Arrest column.
First, though, I want to throw-out a reminder about a great event coming up this week. It’s one of my favorite inspiration sources, but I’ve been known to do a little shopping, too. The Hayloft at Port Royal is starting this Thursday, with a preview night and continues through Saturday. These barns sales have become enormously popular across the nation and I am so glad that Shirley and Knox have brought one to Clarksville. Not only is the event wonderful for those of us who like to shop, it’s also great for the local economy. Folks travel from far and near to set-up as vendors, as well as shop; many travelers will stay in our hotels, eat at our restaurants and put gas in their cars. In the words or Ms. Martha, “it’s a good thing.”
Today, I’m going to share instructions for upcycling an emergency candle into a decorative accessory for fall. Actually, this project can be adapted to the season, but today I’ll teach you the basics and you can “jump” from here.
The list:
8” emergency candle in glass
Scrap of burlap
Scrap of muslin or other cotton fabric
Rubber stamp with a “background” print (I used one with a script pattern)
Rubber stamping ink pad (I use brown ink)
Raffia
Oats, mini-Indian corn, acorns—anything fall-ish
Rubber bands
Mod Podge®
Foam paint brush
Those well labeled “fabric only” scissors
1. Cut your burlap into a 9 x 7 rectangle—pull threads to fringe one of the long sides.

2. Coat the glass of the candle with a generous layer of Mod Podge®; slip on a couple rubber bands while glue dries.
 

3. Tear a 5” wide length of the cotton fabric (I used flour sack cloth); I tore a long piece because I planned to make a lot of these candles. (You can cut the fabric, but tearing gave the appearance I wanted.)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 








4. Use rubberstamp and stamp pad to apply a pattern onto the cotton fabric; allow to dry completely. Cut a length of the fabric to 8”. Attach the stamped fabric to the burlap, using the Mod Podge®.
 
5. Cut a length of raffia, at least 18” long. Wrap it around the candle, securing with a square knot. (left over right and under, right over left and under—pull tight).
6. Now here is where you can introduce various elements of fall, by adding your choice of accent. Use a strand or two of the raffia to attach a mini-bunch of wheat/oats, a tiny wreath and acorn or an Indian corn. I am sure you can think of other accents, as well.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 







As I mentioned, this is an easily adapted project for any season. The candles are very affordable and the glass makes it ideal for decorating. I hope you enjoy your candles.

Retiring Thoughts

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published on Oct 6, 2013.

Last week I was fortunate enough to steal away for a long weekend with my husband, so we traveled south to visit friends in Fort Walton Beach, FL. This is our fourth time visiting them in two years, which is a lot for us; between the business and my husband’s jobs we just don’t get away much. By comparison, however, we have traveled to see these friends with more frequency than any others and not just because they have a house on the water (wink, wink). The truth is that neither of us are really “Florida people,” but we love the Florida people we go to see.

 

 

 

 

 

When we met at college in NC, we both agreed that neither of us were very fond of the idea of living in the other’s home town. My husband is from Pompano Beach, FL and I’m from Fairfax, VA. Florida is too hot for me and has too few seasons; Fairfax is too congested and expensive for him.

Shortly after graduating, we married and my husband joined the Army, so we’ve lived wherever Uncle Sam suggested. Virginia and Florida never made the list. Landing here in Clarksville has been a great blessing and we feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to purchase our dream home and become entrenched in a community. Any subsequent thoughts of retirement have featured our old house.

We’ve always thought our retirement plans would involve the eastern shore of Virginia. It has been our number one vacation destination for years and years, but now we plan for vacations in the Florida panhandle. What the heck is going on here?

Darren on the beach in Coles Point, VA

Well, I haven’t completely figured it out, but I’ve pieced together a couple factors to consider. Number one on the list of considerations: What do you do when you get there? I mean “long term,” not during a week-long vacation. Those vacations on the eastern shore are wonderful, but they are low key. We don’t do much, because there isn’t much to do; which is great for a week, but any longer than that and I’ll go nuts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a lot of this . . . (above), to get to this . . .(below).

 

Bill and Darren doing what they do best; Haedyn, too, for that matter.

 

Next consideration: the weather. The climate was my number one reason for putting the kibosh on Florida so many years ago. I need some variations in temperatures—hot being my least favorite. While I love the change of seasons, I really do enjoy being on the water; in a month or two you won’t be taking a boat out on the Chesapeake Bay unless it is your job. We were on the Choctawhatchee Bay in the middle of January last year. So, as much as we love the Virginia eastern shore, the window of water enjoyment time is really about 5 - 6 months; in the Bay area of Florida, you can hit the water year round.

(Can’t you just see that metaphorical scale tipping?)

One seemingly minor consideration, but worth adding to the list: the seasonable weather during months with “r’s” in them. Oysters taste better while seated at an outdoor table and outdoor dining on the Virginia coast in during the months of November – April is almost unheard of. Further, both areas have oysters, but the fresh oysters available in Florida are ginormous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some JP Penney poses as we arrive at the Dockside Grill in FL.

The biggest factor weighing in this new found fondness for the sunshine state is reality. The reality is we cannot afford two households. So, when we make the decision about where to retire, it is there we will be. No weekend houses or summer homes for us.

 

Fortunately, however, this is not a decision for anytime in the immediate future. We’ve still got a high school student we need to push through and some college tuition to take care of, a few house repairs to tend to and so on. Suffice to say that I look forward to seeing you Wednesday mornings when I’m taking advantage of my senior citizen discounts at Kroger on Madison Street; be sure to stop me and say, “Hi!”

(Of course, none of it matters without this . . .)

PPRP not for wimps

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which originally published on Sep 29, 2013.

I have no idea what came over me, but earlier this week I started cutting, pulling and digging in my front flower beds. I thought I’d take advantage of the rain we had recently had, by pulling weeds. (By the way—how long did it take me to figure out that it is easier to pull weeds after a good rain?) Then, next thing I knew, I had the wheelbarrow out, loading it with transplants, as well as several loads of an unidentified, but very prolific tall, leafy perennial—bound for the dump.

If memory serves, I actually ordered that plant when we first moved to Dog Hill. I love tall plants in my garden and the description for this beast must have fit the bill. Well, about 10 years later, having completely forgotten its name, transplanted it and given it away (sounding familiar), I have decided—it’s got to go. Now is the time of year it produces its tiny white, dandelion puff-like flowers, so I had to act quickly.

before

I grabbed the shovel and started digging down to remove the root and all. Hours later—with a few other plants entered into our PPRP (Paige’s Perennial Relocation Program)—I think I’ve got them down to a few single-stems located throughout our yard, as well as our neighbors.

And now, a word about qualifying for PPRP. This isn’t a program suited for all perennials. No—PRP is for survivors. To be selected for PRP, you must have a growth rate which requires a slide rule for tracking. Other qualifications include: the ability to survive with minimal attention/pruning/grooming; the ability to look fairly decent for at least a few weeks out of the year (thus justifying the effort the caretaker will put into moving you); and finally, you must grab hold of your new soil with very little encouragement from your caretaker.

You see, by the time I’ve decided to relocate or just divide a perennial, my sparkler of enthusiasm for gardening is starting to fizzle. I’m not sure why, but it’s usually the last thing I do before I quit for the day; I’m exhausted, sweaty and itchy. So, the last thing I want to do it dig a hole, loosen the soil and water a plant I am, at this point, wondering why I ever planted. At best, I will remove approximately three inches of the soil (which is usually mostly mulch), drop the plant into the shallow crevice and head for the shower with nary a backwards glance.

after

Believe me when I tell you, however, you would be surprised at the hardiness of those plants which have survived the rigors of the PPRP; many of which have been the subject of previous diatribes—namely, Lamb’s Ear and Asters. Sunday’s victim, however, was relocated to the dump pile. Perhaps it was because we’re not on a first name basis; perhaps it was the audacity it demonstrated by jumping into pots and across the yard into other gardens; perhaps it is the fact that I know—even though I think I pulled it all up—fluffy, little, white seeds are currently waiting for spring to pop-up and declare their survivor status.

Writer’s notes:  Yesterday, a friend at church told me she knew what the plant in question is actually a weed!  She has done battle with it in her own garden and was so frustrated by it, her husband took a sample to our local university for identification.  They told her it is a Mulberry weed.  I googled it today and she is right on the money!  Here’s a blog I found about it.

Strong Backs and My Weak Mind

This is my column for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published Sep 22, 2013.

Time to write the column.

Don’t worry; this will not be another scary dive into my not-to-sub-conscience. Yet, I do feel I need to acknowledge all of the emails, Tweets and face-to-face commentary from my numerous kindred spirits. It is wonderful to know I am in such great company, especially when it comes to my occasional struggles with focus. I am glad you enjoyed last week’s column.

This past week I have been all about fall decorating. The shop has commanded most of my attention, but I’ve made a few changes around the house, as well. We are in the process of a few house repairs and improvements, which have my mind and time somewhat preoccupied.

About a month ago, I wrote about the fact that we—by “we” I mean “my husband”—wanted to extend our patio walkway down the side of our house so it would link to our front porch. I was not very keen on this idea, but I decided that I could at least appear to give his idea some thought before I squashed it like the ground under a cherry picker.

Which brings me to the reason there is a new walkway in our side yard—the ground which was squashed under a cherry picker. Oops, I mean, “man lift;” and while we’re on that, why “man lift?” Shouldn’t it be “person lift?” Okay—squashed ground—the area where we installed this new walkway was the site of a gazillion ton person lift making 20-point adjustment turns for two weeks. The lawn in that area suffered considerably; not that it ever produced the thickest, most durable grass. So I decided that the new pathway might be a good idea after all.

Enter the young, healthy backs of the guys we hired to relocate the dirt and lay the new walkway. They arrived eager and ready to get the job done. Three days later, when they are still trying to break through the gravel and occasional outcropping of concrete, they seemed a little less eager and frankly, a little deflated. It appears that the area we had chosen for our walkway extension was exactly where a gravel driveway had once been located.

This is when it comes to me . . . that herb garden I planted the first year we moved into our house is located along the same path and I now recall the difficulty I had digging the bed for that garden. (In my defense, I can’t remember why I walked into the pantry instead of the laundry room this morning either.) My only explanation is one akin to child birth; no new projects would be tackled in our old house if we were actually able to recall how difficult the last one was.

Of course, my husband is the guy who laid the rest of our pathway and patio, not me. Perhaps he did not-so-sub-consciously recall encountering the gravel, which is why he suggested that I engage a contractor to do this portion of the walkway. Hmm.

Anyhoo, this is where I eat my words and admit, though I begrudgingly gave into the idea of the pathway extension, I l-o-v-e it; or rather will, l-o-v-e it, when I can plant around it. My husband is still working on painting on this side of our house and there is no point in planting a bunch of flowers to be crushed by ladders and size 11.5 work boots.

In the meantime, I will use strategically placed potted ferns and mums (see how I pulled it back around to fall decorating?) to distract my eyes from the bare ground.

Jiminy says, “I tried.”

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle, which published on Sep 15, 2013.

Writer’s note: Every now and again, I just have to write what is really going on; the struggle of my internal “Jiminy Cricket vs. Paige-nochio.”

Sit down. Calm your thoughts. Write.

You have a lot to get done today, so go ahead and write your column, you can then spend the rest of the day (God willing) working with customers and on your fall displays.

You have the best ideas. Let’s get started.

Let me just open a word document . . . wait a minute, what’s that? “Someone” left Facebook open and, look, Rebecca Townsend has written a new blog. I’ll just read that quickly—who knows, it may spark a thought for my article . . .

. . . Well, that was a beautifully written commentary on our National Day of Remembrance for the tragedies, bravery and sacrifices of September 11, 2001; poignant and personal. Rebecca has done so much for this community (especially our service members and their families) and doesn’t even give herself credit for it. I should write her a note—now, before I forget.

Okay. That’s done. Get busy.

How can you expect me to work with the desk such a mess?

Are you kidding me? If you take the time to clean this desk it will turn into the Gilligan’s Island equivalent of the “three hours cruise.” Mayhem and mishap are sure to follow and you will be frantically trying to think of something to write about 8 hours from now. In all actuality, you will likely only have succeeded restacking your paperwork into reasonably neater piles.

“Hi. I’m Melissa, your sales rep from Two’s Company,” says the peppy young lady walking through the door.

Dang it, Paige. You started the day by going to a non-existent appointment you failed to confirm; now you realize you forgot about scheduling this one. Well, there goes two hours.

I’m ready to write. I think I’ll tell folks about the extension we’ve added to our walkway. It is looking great. Hey, it’s Jimmy my UPS delivery guy. Ooh, he’s bringing me new inventory. I wonder what it is.

Stop right there missy! You know dang well it’s full of scarves—you saw the invoice yesterday. Get back to writing and you can open it as soon as you click “send.”

So, that walkway I mentioned a little over a month ago—well, it is finally under construction. I had a friend, Martha, who showed me pictures of the similar paths in her parents’ yard. Oh yeah, that reminds me, I need to call Parks and Rec to tell them about the lights that are out on the Upland Trail.

Unbelievable. We will never get this done. And stop looking at those boxes.

I really don’t think this is going to go anywhere. I should wait to write about the new walkway when it is done and I can share pictures.

So what you’re now admitting is that this stream of consciousness blather was a way to trick yourself into writing something without actually writing about anything.

I am not prepared to say that was my intent at the onset, as I really hoped I’d hit upon something along the way. Then I could go back and delete all of the “blather” and edit myself into a coherent presentation.

Oh hold on just one minute . . . you “coherent;” when, if ever? You’ve got people who are actually going to try to muddle through this nonsense. What do you have to show them?

Well, I shared a kind word with someone very deserving. I found an invoice I’d been looking for and hopefully, I won’t be walking in the dark tomorrow morning! Now, leave me alone, I’ve got boxes to open.

All I ask is you go back to the beginning and at least warn the readers so they can make an informed decision to waste 10 minutes of their day. Oh and make sure they know I am the voice of reason.

A Harvest Banner How-to

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which was published on Sep 8, 2013.

Well, I’ll bet you had a hard time sleeping last night as you eagerly anticipated this promised “how to make a pennant banner” article. Thank goodness your sleepless nights are over, ‘cause here it is.

I hope this is something you’re as interested in as, apparently, I am. I say “apparently,” because as I was pulling out some of my fall decorations for the house, I came across another pennant banner I made for my Thanksgiving mantel décor. I then I started mentally listing all of the banners I’ve made: “Grateful” for Thanksgiving; “Gloria” for Christmas; the banner of vintage photos of kids in their snow outfits for winter; “America” with crinkled crepe paper fans for the Fourth of July. It was there that I discontinued my mental list, but I think I’ve demonstrated my affinity for this quick-and-easy to make decorative accent.

If you think you’d like to make one as pictured here, the supplies you will need are:

Cardstock (color of your choice, I used parchment)

Burlap

Letter stencils

Acrylic paint

Sponge wedge or foam paint brush

Glue

Jute twine

Hole punch

Reinforcement stickers

Optional—trim materials, such as lace and accent materials, such as raffia

1. Cut your base triangles from the card stock. I use 11 x 8.5” cardstock and am able to get three pennants out of one sheet. (photo A)

2. Cut seven pennant triangles. Punch a hole in each of the top (short edge) corners.

 

 

 

 

 

3. Cut a template for a triangle about ½” smaller overall. (I cut one extra of my base triangles, folded it in half—lengthwise—and cut ½” from the short and long sides.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. Use this smaller template to trace seven triangles onto your burlap and cut them. (Let me say here and now—treat yourself to one good pair of fabric scissors. Do not allow anyone to use them on anything—even if they say they need it for fabric—they are lying to you and preparing to go cut a coaxial cable. I am sure of it. I have a pair at the shop and at home—both have “warning” tags on them assuring of a variety of pains that await the perpetrator if I catch them being used on anything other than fabric. So far, the threats have not had to be acted upon. So far.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Back to our pennant banner.

6. Pour a little of your paint (I used Traditional Raw Umber acrylic) on a plate. Center your H stencil on the burlap triangle. Dip the sponge into the paint (do not overload paint), then holding the stencil in place, tamp the paint into the stencil and violá—only A-R-V-E-S and T to go!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7. While the paint dries, you can add trim to the outside edge of your base triangle. I like using cotton lace when I’m using burlap—kind of fancies it up, but not too much. I pre-cut all of the lengths I needed (I am not looking for precision here—just get it close). Use an old, small paint brush to “paint” a thin layer of glue around the perimeter of your base triangle and apply the trim. By the time you finish this, the paint on your burlap pennants should be dry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. Apply another thin layer of glue on the base triangle (inside of the trim) and stick the burlap to the base. Allow to dry completely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9. Apply reinforcement stickers to the backside of each of the holes on the base pennant.

10. Now you’re ready to string you pennant banner together. Run the jute twine through the hole starting on the top left of the H, running the twine behind the base triangle . . . oh you get the picture.

 

11. I added the raffia accents to give my banner a little more interest. You could also add a few pieces of mini-Indian corn between each triangle.

Have fun with this project, but be careful, the next thing you know you will be cutting more triangles and stringing pennants to welcome your friends to your guest bathroom.

The first day of September—color me happy!

My column for The Leaf Chronicle, originally published Sep 1, 2013.

My love/hate relationship with our Mulberry tree continues—having just gotten over the black flies and berries, we are now dealing with the falling leaves (which will continue until February). The gardens are a mess—weeds are rampant in the flower bed and the perennials are getting leggy. The lack of rain has wreaked havoc on the gardens and yard; yet I am crazy about this time of year!

Our “above ground pond” is closed for the season, so that is one less thing to worry about. Pretty soon we will be able to open the windows and enjoy the fresh air. Soon, mums and pumpkins will adorn front porches all over Clarksville. Yep—soon it’ll be fall y’all!

In typical fashion, however, I am loathe to push the seasons. Owning a retail shop makes me hyper aware of the changing seasons. You will note that most retailers already have their Halloween décor on the shelves—fall colors, in the form of faux leaves and pumpkins, having been added in July. I have always pushed back at the suggestion that I need to do the same thing at my shop, but I have had to succumb ever so slightly.

I think that, by August, everyone has had enough “summer” and most consider the start of the school year the start of the fall season; however, the warm weather will stick around for a while, so let’s conjure some ideas for making a transition.

This is the perfect time to cleanse the decorating palette. I like to move into neutral tones before I introduce the rich colors of the harvest season. The neutral items will then provide a great base for the future riot of orange, gold and red.

Here’s how I will start. I have a tobacco basket on the front of my house—where I often hang my wreaths. I put it up last fall and decided to use it as the “base” for all of our entryway décor since then. Until recently, a swag of herbs with a garden trowel and bird’s nest was hanging there, now it is the backdrop for an armful of dried oats, gathered together with a knot of burlap. In a few weeks, I will add a pennant banner to hail the harvest season (I’ll be sharing tips on how to make your own next week). For now, the neutral oats will set the tone—then I will add pops of color and seasonal references.

Dried flowers and grasses are a great way to make changes in the house, without pulling out the pumpkins and gourds just yet. Hydrangeas are my favorite dried flowers and my friend, Ruta, just gave me tips for the best way to dry them. If you have a bush with blooms you are still enjoying, now would be a great time to cut a bunch and bring them inside to dry. (If you don’t have your own hydrangea bush, wait until it is dark and sneak into your neighbor’s yard to cut his.) Don’t harvest new blooms—choose the blooms that are already starting to feel papery. Cut a good length of stem and remove all leaves. Then place the blooms in a vase that is filled to about 1/3 full. Add your blooms—don’t overcrowd—then enjoy them until the water evaporates. You should then have beautiful dried blooms. Keep them out of direct sunlight during the drying process and afterward.

The Bourbon Trail portion of the weekend

This is my column originally published in The Leaf Chronicle, Aug 18, 2013

Last week I wrote about the yard sale portion of the yard sale and bourbon trail weekend I recently enjoyed with my sisters, mother and a friend. I closed by promising to share some insight from our visits to the distilleries; however, my editor took liberties when she changed my closing sentence, to include the phrase “bourbon-soaked portion of our trip.”

(This portion was omitted from my “defense:”  I don’t know about other writers, but I rarely read my own articles when they are published; I guess I should start. Imagine my surprise upon arriving at church Sunday morning to be greeted with comments such as “Well, I’m surprised to see you here;” and “Have you recovered?” Fortunately, I attend Trinity Episcopal, where an occasional drink is not frowned upon. I know that the comments were good, old fashioned ribbing, but really, I didn’t understand the cause, as our trip was anything but “bourbon-soaked.”)

So, please, gentle reader, fear neither for my soul, my liver, nor those of my traveling companions. We were quite responsible and reasonably restrained. So, back to the debauchery . . .

When we decided to combine our visit to the “world’s longest yard sale” with a tour of some bourbon distilleries, we started by researching The Kentucky Bourbon Trail® online (kybourbontrail.com). We then found those distilleries closest to Route 127. As we had Nikki and Jessica driving in from Virginia to meet us the first night, we found the one closest to I-64, the route they would be traveling. And set that as our first destination.

Most distilleries close around 5 p.m., but we found that Buffalo Trace Distillery (buffalotrace.com) in Frankfort, KY (not on the official Kentucky Bourbon Trail®) offered a ghost tour at 7 p.m., which not only meshed with our travel schedule, but piqued our interest, too! Upon arrival at the grounds of the Buffalo Trace Distillery, we were immediately enthralled. The 130-acre property, set along the former buffalo migration route, is speckled with four centuries of architecture. Still family owned and operated after 200 years, the distillery and the grounds actually proved to be our hands-down favorite. The ghost tour was an effective means for access to many of the historic structures and learning about the history of the distillery. Our tour was followed by a tasting of our choice of two of four spirits offered. Mom stuck with the Dr. McGillicuddy’s root beer and Kendall enjoyed the Bourbon Cream liqueur. The rest of us sampled the straight bourbon or the white dog—which is the pure distilled alcohol product before it is aged in the oak barrels. (I prefer the aged version.)

The next morning we traveled a winding road, through a vast horse ranch, into a valley in Versailles, KY where we found the lovely setting for the Woodford Distillery. Unfortunately, the yard sale called, so our visit here was brief; hindsight, proved we should have stayed! We did not take a tour, but they did have a very thorough and attractive visitor’s center, where we learned a little about the processes employed by this distillery. We each tried a small taste of their copper pot-distilled straight bourbon whiskey, save Mom (who indulged in a bourbon truffle, which was offered to her). All I can say it, “Smooth.” woodfordeserve.com

After too many fruitless hours spent at the yard sale, we then headed to Four Roses Distillery in Lawrenceburg, KY. We, unfortunately, were joined on our tour by a rather large group of young ladies supporting a bride-to-be (evidenced by one of those mini-veils clipped in her coif), as well as a chatty group of 30-somethings who were more engaged in their own conversation than that of the tour guide. (You know you’re getting old when you throw unmistakably dirty looks at rude people even though you don’t have your 6’2” husband there as your “muscle.”) The distillery was not operational during our visit (another downside) and most of the tour consisted of a movie. Again, the setting was lovely, but this was, unfortunately, our least favorite stop along the Trail®. I feel I must confess a prejudice against the logo—I’m not a fan of rose illustrations and I am put-off by even numbers; three roses, yes--better). Regardless, we did taste the bourbons offered—a magnanimous gesture, to be sure. Our assessment of those we sampled were in keeping with the tour—our least favorite. Fourrosesbourbon.com

From there, we headed to Bardstown, KY. We had reservations in a quaint motel, which they had done their best to update, but it still suffered the odiferous remnants of its obviously former incarnation as a facility which allowed smoking. Other than that, it had a charm that I feel sure I appreciated more than my traveling companions. We enjoyed a lovely dinner, followed by entertainment at the Old Talbott Tavern. I’d have to say that, if any part of our trip came close to being “bourbon soaked” it was here, as they offered a sampler tray of bourbons, which we happily ordered . . . twice.

The next morning we explored a bit of the downtown area, but found most shops closed. We found one shop, The Old Mercantile, open and manned by the friendliest, most informative Texas transplant! A few souvenirs later, we left for a quick drive thru My Old Kentucky Home on our way to our next distillery, Heaven Hill.

Heaven Hill, located in Bardstown, is where you will find Evan Williams and Elijah Craig bourbons aging in oak; the stills are actually located in Louisville. It is also home to the Bourbon Heritage Center. This was our last stop and I was a bit skeptical, as outward appearances would lead one to believe that we had arrived at a prison camp. Surrounded by numerous seven-story white-ish buildings wearing petticoats of black fungus, the Center was actually an oasis of lovely construction and landscaping. Upon our arrival, we joined a tour, already in progress and began to learn a lot about the process of distilling bourbon. The tour of the rick house was fascinating—those buildings are constantly shifting, engineering marvels! Our tour guide, Holly, was an informative and witty delight and the tasting that followed was educational, as well as delicious.

All-in-all, the trip was wonderful. I won’t bother with the yard sale the next time; I’ll just try to get a few more stamps in my Kentucky Bourbon Trail® Passport.

Some of the loot we returned with from the Bourbon Trail.