My house is 200 years old, more or less. The floors are wavy and nothing is plumb. I accept these things as personality traits of the house and feel no desire to “remedy” them. The house is what it is, and I respect its charm and character.

Several of my doors require doorstops to keep them open or closed, as the case may be. A large jar of marbles serves as one doorstop, and for a while I used a basket of seashells to prop the cellar door open a crack so the cat could come and go. But every time I wanted to go down cellar, I had to lift the basket out of the way. Even though it served the purpose, the basket was as much of a hindrance as a help. Recently, I replaced the basket with a brick.

Around my house, bricks are easy to find. Years ago, I developed a strange affinity for encountering old bricks in odd places wherever I went, and whenever I did, I brought them home to add to the pile in the garage. I found bricks in places no sane brick ought to be – way out in the woods or in the middle of a path meandering across a field. It was as if the bricks had materialized out of nowhere just for me. I like to think that some Mr. Rumphius-type person scattered the bricks about, hoping they’d multiply into chimneys and sturdy walls, or that I would find them and add them to my stash.

I have learned that bricks, like wooden shims, come in handy if you live in an old house. I use bricks to edge flowerbeds, on the porch as a base for a big pot of impatiens or as an aid when I need to scrape muddy shoes. And for doorstops.

However, I didn’t want a bare brick scuffing up the wood floor any more than it already is. I covered the brick with fabric I embroidered.

First, on paper, I made a tracing of the brick. I used the resulting rectangular box as the design space. In the box, I made a crude line drawing of a little Cape Cod house similar to my own. I drew willow tree shapes on either side of the house, printed the word “WELCOME” under the house, added a few stars and a crescent moon, my initials and the year. The drawing had the folk art feel I wanted.

Using tracing paper and a transfer pencil, I applied the design with a hot iron to a square of white muslin that fit around the brick.

I stitched the design in faded red and blue embroidery floss using back stitches as clumsily wrought as I could manage – which isn’t easy as I tend to have a good eye for precision and my stitches insist on being even. I really hate that.

When the embroidery was finished, I brewed a bowl of strong tea laced with several heaping teaspoons of instant coffee. I soaked the piece in the brew for 15 minutes. I crumpled the fabric into a ball and let it dry that way overnight. This insured that dark blots and crease lines would appear – instant aging.

I pressed the piece with a steam iron. I wrapped cotton quilt batting around the brick to pad it, leaving bare the two narrow ends. I used small strips of duct tape to secure the batting. I wrapped the brick in the embroidered piece – as if I were wrapping a gift. I secured the fabric with a few quick stitches.

Thus covered, the brick now serves as a useful doorstop. It slides easily away from the door when I want to open it. It’s pleasant to look at and it sure beats tripping over a basket of seashells. And, yes, I still find bricks wherever I go and lug them home.

Snippets

Alberta Owens of Baileyville reports that she uses counted cross-stitch to raise awareness about the downside of smoking. She designed a piece bearing these words: It’s your life, your breath, time and money going up in smoke.

When she finishes a piece, she puts it in a 5-by-7-inch frame and donates it to a doctor’s office, a coffee shop or other public place. She even sent one to Bangor Daily News columnist Dr. Eric Steele in hopes that it would be displayed in a hospital waiting area.

A former smoker herself, Owens said she lost two sisters to the effects of smoking.

Doing cross-stitch, she said, is “cheaper to do than smoking and gives me something to show for my time.” It’s also her personal effort to provide ongoing support for the Great American Smokeout, which takes place each year in November.

For information about the Great American Smokeout and kicking the cigarette habit, visit www.cancer.org.