My bad

 The last thing I did here was promise a stitch tutorial. I took a clutch of pictures that turned out crappy.
 Then, LIFE, and boy, am I out of practice and shape for being Nana! It's disturbing how much that skillset (and the flesh) has deteriorated since BC (need I explain?)

No excuses, unless you count sloth & ennui.

And where do I get off lecturing a five-year-old on the dangers of uttering the words "I'm bored" ?

In the first picture we are parked across the street from a construction site where, right at the edge of the road, a squad of excavators and dumptrucks were frantically laying waste to the countryside for who knows what. They were trenching and laying yard-wide pipes, building mountains, climbing them precariously, then knocking them down - so something huge. We were both fascinated for about 20 minutes.

I don't know what I would have done without the assistance of his uncle. Colin is passing through a second child/teen hood with the video games, et al that he and his brother did without when they were kids and such stuff out of reach, and thank goodness.

Sunday

I know y'all must be sick of seeing these by now, but this was yesterday. Today they are gone. I haven't looked yet but there was a pretty heavy rainstorm in the last few hours. I hope the wind didn't knock the vase over.

Salem and I were waiting for a friend to arrive. After much sweat, swearing, and soil stabbing, the irises have all been rehomed to make room for my annual extravagance of annuals and anything else I can coax out of the dirt from seed.  Note demon Baily at 3 o'clock preparing to raid our tranquility. 

Earlier in the day, I continued the studio rummaging turned up actual elastic, both quarter and half-inch, and a bunch of small shreds that had been bundled together with what intent I don't

recall. I do remember that Timeless Treasures check was once a two-yard cut. It made me dizzy to look at then and now. This is all that's left of it.

work continues here. LESSON. I should have done a mockup on paper instead of scribbling directly onto the cloth. The words and lines are crowded, and the letterforms are too studied, but it's growing on me.

the last glorious hurrah.

Dirty Threads

Yes, finally.

Not these. These are mine. As you can see, I've been very generous to myself. I may need a bigger lunchbox.



Your threads are here

pagan offering

Only these few blooms this year from both peonies. I think the soil is tired and needs some help. There is also a tree trying to take root up there that needs ousting. It was 80 today and the flowers were beginning to lean over and explode.

The birdbath/watering hole sits in the center of the crape myrtle grove up by the mailbox. It's maybe 20 feet from the road.

pink fire

I've been missing pink, too. Paw pink, sunburn pink, flirting pink, cotton candy pink. In the whole toolbox, there was only one.

Next dye run, I'll attend to this, but with caution. Dyeing with the intent of pink usually ends in a bloodbath.  Pink is a color you have to sneak up on. Cajole. Nab. Comfort and hold.

The peonies at the mailbox garden will peak in the next few days.

I'm going to cut, arrange, and display them in a unique way. Can't bring them inside, the scent is just so powerful this year.