Plan C

My eyes flicked over the sweater sleeves all squeezed together in a long row at the thrift store.  Natural fibre stands out doesn’t it? Especially when it’s chunky, patterned, soft cotton.  

I plucked a sweater into my arms, rushed to the till and hastened homeward. It seemed a smidge short but I wasn’t worried. Blocking after washing was plan A. I found myself tugging at the hem each time I wore it though. I pondered plan B. I could add the hem tails  of an uocycled shirt., but by now I found myself also tugging at the neck. On to plan C. Scissors! That’s what was needed.  The hem of the sweater became the top of the tote. The sleeves became pocket one, pocket two and shoulder straps.  I didn’t even ask my sewing machine how it felt about sewing the straps on.  I just added wooden buttons as though I had planned it all along. 

New true blue

What is denim but blue canvas. And what is canvas but an invitation to paint. Here is my new, true, blue friend 

Should you

Should you sit by the seashore? Yes. Should you share the view with a companion ? Sure. Should you sit under a coconut tree? Hmmmm. 

Dither

Do you ever dither? I love that word because it so perfectly captures the feeling you get when thoughts collide.  It's a sort of Modified Stationary Panic, to quote Patrick McManus.  Clarity and calm usually follows though thank goodness.  And then I can't imagine why I didn't see the way forward before. Out of the many choices, very suddenly, the best one is right before my eyes. Wonder of wonders. 

Coffee break

"What's that," I hissed, clutching my husband's arm.  There! There it was again! A strange hissing/shriek.  Even as he whipped out his phone and opened the Merlin app my mind had sorted and shuffled birds calls.  I knew it was a raptor of some kind….."It's a Barred Owl," my husband exclaimed.  

It didn't take us long to spot it perched on a great curving tree limb above the creek.  They hunt for crayfish but this owl was on his coffee break. 

"Who who whoo whooooooo," I said, by way of trying to strike up a conversation. 

But he just stared and tipped his head sideways.  When you are on a break, you are on a break. 

Slither

"We got alot of videos of the snake," the mother announced happily to her cluster of preschoolers. And then she repeated the sentence. "We got ALOT of videos of the snake". 

Oh my!

We continued past them towards the pond.  Now if there is one word to keep in mind when snakes are involved it's ROCK.  Especially on a cooler day.  Rocks hold the memory of yesterday's sunshine. 

Sure enough, as we peered over the rail fence a snake lay draped over the rock. Oh, and another was curled up, fast asleep.  Oh, and a larger snake headed for the reeds below.  Oh, and a small snake slithered behind a stone. "

"Was that four or five?" my husband asked as we strolled towards the parking lot.  

It can be hard to tell with snakes, where one ends and another begins.

Hankering

I've had a hankering for a  comfy, cool, boxy top.  Something scrappy and one of a kind.  Something quick as a blink to sew. 

I thought I should make a practice run first though instead of cutting fabric up willy nilly.  

Why not start with some low stakes fabric scraps. 

Hazah! Three companionable prints leftover from assorted decades. 

Then why not measure a couple summer tops for the sake of comparison. And a paper pattern too.  And me! 

Fold, cut, pin, sew, snip, press, topstitch, and celebrate!

Time

Have you ever had a problem that you know time will take care of?  The mere passing of time. Tick…tick….tick……….tick.  But now it feels like time is the problem.

Gribbling

I love words.  Some so perfectly capture their own meaning.  Words like quibble.  To quibble is to argue about something truly trivial. Not about something weighty. Not like thunder rumbling and lightning flashing. More like a couple mosquitoes in the tent. But being small doesn't make it damage free.  Quibbling can be the last straw on someone's day. Usually the adult driving the car and listening to quibbling in the back seat. 

Today I pondered a new word.  Gribble.  I checked Google to see if gribble was already a word and it was! Who knew?  But thank goodness words can have more than one meaning.  Gribble can mean aquatic worms that damage wood by boring it full of tiny holes.  But now it could also mean to grumble. Most grumbling could rightfully be called gribbling.  Truly trivia and small but damaging.  

I can tell

A little shore bird is the first thing I see every morning when I swing wide my door. He's never startled.  Just bravely stands his ground. 

His migration route was likely a very interesting story if he could speak.  He lived briefly at a thrift shop amongst the pressed glass and pottery. Such a sweet little fellow.  

He was banded and a tiny tag around his ankle had a single word. Kenya. Clever, nimble fingers far away gave him life. 

And away he flew to Canada.  

I can tell he's happy.  He's settled right in and has made his home between the hosta and the astilbe.

Why yes

If you buy a ball of yarn, you might feel like crocheting something simple. Something like a square. And if you crochet a square you may find yourself folding it into an envelope and adding a button closure. Book sleeve? Maybe. iPad cover? Why yes!

Diaper pinned

Aren't babies sweet? 

I made two tiny felt babies.  They weren't twins but they were definitely related.  Cousins I think.  

I sent the first one to my big sister, the Doll Maker. 

It was so much fun to create that I quickly made a second one.  

It's pretty easy to make hair for a baby doll. 

And a diaper was the entire wardrobe. Also easy. 

I crocheted bassinets for both. I'm a newbie crocheter and I can't believe how 3D crochet can be. Round and round you go til there it is! 

I thought of embroidering an appropriate sized diaper pin but I had a very vintage and very tiny pin that seemed destined for use, and what's more vintage than a diaper pin!

A slender silhouette, still as a statue

A strip of silvery sand 

The sea, a molten pool of golden light

Live on

I had a yen to make a doll and was soon clutching a little pocket sized friend with auburn hair and cheerful cheeks. She had her own ideas about wardrobe though; A patterned sweater, warm and wooly. Hazah! In my sock drawer was a lonely only, its partner missing in action. It was part of a special pair of socks given to me by my daughter.  Perfect! It could live on, transformed into a little pullover.  I congratulated myself on both upcycling and paying homage to a gift.  

I later found the matching sock. 

Hold it

A group of friends posing for one of those pictures inevitably snapped.  "Move in…closer…everyone look this way….hold it….. hold it". 

Sometimes

Not all embroidery with wool is crewelwork.  Sometimes it is just bulky embroidery.

I paused

I paused on Pinterest to admire a sweater, and then another, with a name chain stitched across the front. Algorithms don't need persuading. They spring into action at the slightest whiff of interest. 

My interest quickly turned to resolve and I rushed to the thrift shop. Oh joyous day! A lovely cream coloured sweater, just the right style, just the right size and just the right price. 

Who says it needs to be a name emblazoned on the front?

Why not a single word that works as advice and permission at the same time  

Perfect timing

If you have had fabric so long you don't remember how it entered your life, you would likely think it is the oldest fabric in your stash wouldn't you? I'm guessing the charm pack this table runner is made from was given to me as a gift. Or, maybe is from when I attended a quilt guild with my mother, 15+years ago. Fifteen years goes by in a blink. So does 52 years, apparently. I bought the backing fabric when I was a teenager, for a project that never materialized. Gadzooks, what a pun! It remained uncut and preserved for posterity all these years and avoided being chopped into sundresses, toddlers rompers, curtains or even tote bag linings. 

Amazingly, when I had sewn the table runner and was auditioning backings, my vintage treasure waved its hand in the air and stepped forward. It was perfect timing. 

'A thing of beauty is a Joy forever'

Chicklet

Thrift shop kit. Just in time for spring

The frame of this little pendant works like a miniature embroidery hoop; a circle of wood with a tiny screw to tighten. It was a little tricky to work with though. I tried to center the embroidery and I tried to keep the grain of the linen straight and I tried to make sure the chick was standing and not leaning and I tried to make sure the fabric was neither pushed to far into the hoop or not pushed far enough. And I tried to make two hands and ten fingers work as a team. More than once.  

Ahhh sweet success! 

Then I crocheted a teeny tiny chain of thread and added it as a victory lap. 

Little birds

A flock of watercolor birds destined to become cards.

Glory

 

The world is charged with the glory of God, It will flame out, like shining from shook foil 

-Gerard Manley Hopkins

Until October.

Conversation is in the air like music in some restaurants.  I love that.  Tonight I overheard a woman at the table behind ours. “I would say,” she began as though pondering something of great importance. “  I would say , I will love honour and cherish you, until…..October”

I did

The waitress arrived at our table with a flourish. Fish and chips all crispy and golden for my husband and an amazing platter heaped with salad and a succulent  salmon burger for me.  “Here,” she said, placing four white dinner napkins by my plate. “You’ll probably need these,” she added, with a knowing smile. I did!