mending

I like mending. Taking something that's been used hard out of love or utility, and bringing it back to life and usefulness with a cloth, stitch and some more love.  This was my Mom's little "go bag".

She carried it slung from her wheelchair for the longest time. It was stuffed with tissues, crackers, coins, pens, lunch leftovers sometimes. It would get pretty nasty when she forgot about the food that she'd squirreled away, so it's had its share of machine washings and every zipper still works. Credit to Vera Bradley for a well-made product. I've been needing something to hold just wallet, keys and phone. This will be perfect. Again.

My head is also mending today. two consecutive evenings with a migraine, courtesy of the toppings on the pizza we had for dinner (and leftover for breakfast) Wednesday and Thursday. Live and keep learning.

Invited back

I've been away from the cloth for a time now. While duty calls me back, it's the promise of something wonderful that will get me there.

I was digging through the tubs of cloth when these fabrics made themselves known to me because I'm still convinced that my missing notebook in here somewhere.

Dark and exciting for a baby blanket, don't you think? It could be the flip side of something light and fanciful. As much as I love the spots on the avocado field, I can't use it because they were discharged and won't stand up to a lot of laundering. I have mending to do, a slew of buttons to replace. All homey stuff that matters to someone.

And for fun, these. Making them is like eating potato chips. Why stop at one?

seeing clearly

I've been lazy, taking "quick and dirty" shots with my cell phone. I'd forgotten how good digital photography can be. These are from the storm series. All are vintage hankies, doilies or cocktail napkins...I guess. Now, they are stars in their own right. There will be dirty threads in the same(ish) colorways, too.  I left the pictures large so you can dig in for the wonder.

the storm that didn't arrive

All morning it looked like the sky would break open. Hot, thickly humid. There was no going outside for anything. I've been plagued by chaos lately, internal and external, so I did what was at hand - a long overdue purge and cleanup in the studio. Even half-finished, I feel a lot better.

During the rout of un-named boxes of unknown crap, I found a collection of hankies and other tiny, hand embellished things from an era before Kleenex. Into the pre-dye secret sauce, they went. I had a full set of threads prepped and ready for color.

An hour outside on the deck and the additional secret ingredient was my sweat. Everything is in the washing machine right now. If the finished products don't hold up to these wet shots, I'll delete them...the heartbreak of wet photography is real.

And Joanne...look at that little linen blouse. I could kill the woman for being so tiny!

down on the farm

That is Charlie's grampa, Papa Doc. He does blacksmithing demonstrations at various venues including nearby McDaniel farm park. We visited with him a bit then toured the park on a hayride and spent time at an amazing new playground. Thank the weather gods for cloud cover.

The parks department has restored and maintained the farmhouse and outbuildings as a typical 1930's working farm. There was a table set up where someone would be giving a talk and demonstration about cotton. No one was around to answer our silly questions as it was early.

That shred of raw cotton in the right foreground got picked up by inquisitive fingers and dropped on the ground, from there to my pocket.

Once I got home, I examined the bit of fluff. I picked out all the bits of dry leaves. pesky business. There was almost a dozen of those little hard beans stuck in the fiber. I'm assuming they are cotton seeds and I'm going to see what I can find out about growing them.

Maybe I will spin the cotton into thread too. Obsessive. I know. There will be dye.