procrastiblogging

I should be doing so many things right now that my head hurts. I could list them but I suspect that wouldn't help.

I thought spending 40 minutes on the elliptical trainer might help. So I got changed and hopped on and loaded a podcast, but then something happened and it didn't work so I had to get back down and turn it off at the wall. And now I'm sitting here in my exercise gear thinking it might have been a blessing after all, because wearing exercise gear makes me feel good and sporty, but exercising makes me sweaty and tired, and if I have any hopes of doing any of the things I have to do before the night is through, then tired is not going to help.

So while I'm here and procrastiblogging I want to talk a little bit about handmade. The giving and the receiving of handmade to be precise.

If you have ever read this blog before you'll know that I'm a bit of an obsessive hand maker. Despite the cost of the materials and the time it takes to make something, I'd rather make it a million times more than I'd like to buy it. And because I make stuff myself, I know how much time, energy, effort, money and love goes into handmade.

And because it does take all that, I love to make and give things to other people. I like to choose the project carefully, gather the materials together and then make the object with the giftee in mind.

Recently I knitted the socks in the top photo for a friend who I haven't seen in years and years. Good quality sock yarn isn't cheap and the socks took me a couple of weeks to knit but I loved every second. And while I made them I thought about my friend and how she's going through such a difficult time, and I felt happy that I could knit a bit of my heart into them and send them off in the post to her.

But then as I was knitting the last few stitches I started wondering about giving a handmade gift to someone who may or may not make things by hand herself. Would she understand what my socks and I were saying? Would she think a gift of socks out of the blue is a pretty weird thing? Would she even know that they are hand knitted?

Would she feel loved every time she put her toes in them and pulled them up over her heels? Would she be happy that although life might be a bit crappy at times, someone somewhere down south cares about her? Would she save them for special occasions, or would she wear them everyday?

And does any of that really matter because I loved making them and I loved making them for her and making them made me feel a tiny bit less helpless?



In other news, today the sock knitter, me, got a pair of socks in the post from another sock knitter, Donna from New Zealand. Up until the time that I opened the parcel I'd been having a pretty overemotional day, mainly due to the crazy list of things I have to do that I mentioned before. But that all changed when I pulled out those socks. Those beautiful socks.

And I noticed how they are made up of so many scraps of wool which means Donna would have had to darn in all the ends. And I saw that they are crazily beautiful and happy. And I felt giddy about all those stitches and all those hours and all those kind hearted feelings. I was, and still am, overwhelmed.

I guess I'm just interested in what you think.
Are you a hand maker and giver?
Does handmade have more, or less, value to you?
Can you personally feel the love in a handmade present?
Do you think I should write a note explaining that I knitted them?
Do you think I should stop this and get on with what I really should be doing?

I know you're right.

Goodbye!

xx

Oh and the socks at the top are raveled here.

why i love craft

This is why I love craft.

These two slippers began as two balls of yarn. One ball, the purply one, I bought from two women at the Bendigo Sheep and Wool show two years ago. I didn't love the feel of it and I didn't love the colour of it, but I did love the concept. That ball of yarn was called WOOLI by Nikki Gabriel and was a recycled blend of factory fibre waste: wool, alpaca, silk, cashmere and possum.  I just had to try some out and see how it knitted up.

The second was given to me by my friend and local shop-keeper Merrilyn. A Debbie Bliss chunky tweed made from merino and angora. I did love the look and feel of this speckley, lumpy gorgeous bluey-greeny yarn but had no idea what it would eventually become.

Both balls have sat patiently in my wool cupboard for close to two years now for just the right time and just the right project. Over the years I've pulled them out and wondered and considered and stroked them but nothing has felt quite right. Until now.

Until the past few days as we have grown closer to winter, the temperatures have dropped and the icy polished concrete floor in our kitchen has become increasingly difficult to stand on in socks. There's really nothing worse than freezing cold feet and the way the chilly feeling travels up the body making it impossible to relax and warm up.

As the days past I found myself breaking the rules by wearing my boots inside the house and at the same time wondering about a solution that wouldn't cost the crazy price of five new pairs of slippers and wouldn't involve a special trip into Melbourne to purchase them.

And then last Friday I was reading lovely Sophie's blog and it was like she had answered my question before I had even asked it when she shared the link to this fabulous list of slipper patterns. I chose the top pair, scrounged around for some chunky yarn, found those two balls and some 5.5mm needles and cast on.

Apart from a couple of issues with the way it is written, this pattern is simple, quick and so much fun to knit up.

On Monday morning when I walked into the kitchen where my farmer boy was in the middle of relighting the stove fire, stirring the porridge and making our coffee, I found him with the biggest smile on his face. His new slippers were warm, comfy, cushioned and he loved them.

There is no better feeling in the whole wide world than that which is making something for someone you love that they love.

I now have orders for three more pairs plus some for me. And I don't feel so, so bad when I sleep a little late and he's gotten it all warm and toasty in the house before my feet hit the floor.

Craft makes me happy.

Stay warm and cozy lovely people, I hope you get the chance to love what you make and make what you love.

xx

Sew together - Grow together - the book

Yesterday morning we woke up to grey skies, steady rain and a couple of coughing girls. Week three, day two of the school holidays, what on earth were we going to do? How on earth were we going to spend the day?


And then I remembered this treasure, Sew Together Grow Together, sent to me by Trixi Symonds, the author, a couple of weeks ago.

Sew Together Grow Together is a selection of hand-sewing projects developed over two decades in classes and workshops for children. The idea for this book was planted by parents who "can't even sew on a button" but wished they could play a more active role in their child's hand-sewing adventures and feel for themselves the excitement their children so clearly felt when they created something they loved and were proud to have made.

Sounds perfect hey?!

Trixi's projects are simple and completely achievable, her instructions make sense and are so child friendly that I believe anybody age five and up could make a go of them.


First our girls studied all the patterns in the book and chose one that they liked.

Then they gathered all the materials they needed, made space in the school holidays chaos of the kitchen table and got to work.

Miss Jazzy read through one step at a time, sometimes twice, and then they did it. Mostly Jazzy would finish first and help Pepper along.


Tracing, cutting, pinning, threading, stitching, snipping, turning...


Stuffing…


Gluing…

This was my favourite part. We didn't have the googly eyes recommended by the pattern, but undeterred Miss Jazzy came up with the idea of using buttons. A little button glued onto a big button glued onto the owl. So cool!

Ta-daaaaaaa!!!

Three little owls made from Sew Together Grow Together, by us. How great!

Just after I took this photo I left the girls and went down to collect the eggs. I asked them to tidy up a bit. When I got back half an hour later, instead of finding a clear table, I found Miss Jazzy deep in the cutting and stitching zone. She was so inspired by her new found skills that she couldn't stop and was taking them further. Using another project from the book she was making a treasure bag for her sister. Tracing and cutting and pining and stitching...

And without one speck of help from me, she followed Trixi's directions and sewed a bag. Then she filled it with treasures of her own and presented it to her sister.

Today she tells me we're pulling out the sewing machine, she's obsessed. Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Sometimes I wonder if my kids will ever love making as much as I do. If they will ever be the crazy girl with the basket full of wool at the picnic, the girl with the bits of cotton stuck all over her skirt up the street, the girl that fills every spare second cutting and stitching and knitting. Days like yesterday give me a glimpse into the future and I think maybe. There is so much love and creativity and satisfaction in making something by hand, I really hope I can pass a little of that on.

Happy days my friends, I hope you've got something gorgeous going on too.

xx

Who influences you?

 A little while ago I was lying in bed the night before a magazine interview trying to guess the questions and plan my answers.

It was a magazine I have a lot of respect for so I wanted to make sure I knew what I was talking about and sounded a bit interesting, a lot thought out.

But, as almost always happens, the later it got, the harder the imagined questions got, the more rambly my answers got, the more worried I got, the less I made sense, the less chance I had of getting to sleep, the more pointless this middle of the night exercise became.

But I kept asking, and answering, and stressing. For hours.

And for some reason one of the questions that kept popping up in my imaginary interview was: Who and what are your main influences?

Sounds simple right? But over the course of that over-night interview I discovered that I don't have main influences. I don't have one place, or person, or style to turn to to turn me on. Did that make me shallow?

And the more I thought about that fact, the more worried I became. 

My influences come from everywhere: a quote in a book I'm reading, a song we listened to on the radio on the way to school, the way Pepper's teacher tied her scarf, something that we did when we were kids, a link on Pip's blog, the colour pallet in a shop window, the recipe I hear someone describing to someone else at the fruit shop, a picture of a garden layout on pinterest, the angle or exposure of a photograph, what needs to be picked or planted or preserved in the garden, the colourful balls of cottons in the corner, the pattern in the bits of honeycomb scraped off the roof of a bee hive yesterday, a skirt with cute pockets I saw and a pile of pretty vintage fabric I thrifted, a washy painting Indi did and the water colour pencils she left lying around, this season's stunning shiburi dyeing and all my stained whites, an instagram picture of a mini quilt and mine half made, the new and varied patterns I am learning while knitting my way through Nicki Trench's 201 Knitting Blocks, Projects Ideas, a salad recipe I saw somewhere and my rumbling tummy….

My influences seem to know no bounds and are ever changing. Often changing.

And as the sun came up I finally became comfortable with my answer.

But of course the question was never asked.

So now I'm asking you.
Can you name your influences?
Do you have people, places, times or  quotes that guide you? That you turn to? That fill you up and help make you you?
Or are yours ever changing like mine? Like the weather? Like the days of the year? Like the patterns the wind makes as it blows its way over the long grass in my parents' paddock?

I wonder.

xx

Australian Sheep and Wool Show 2013

Oh my goodness, I LOVE WOOL!!!!!

And I love the Australian Sheep and Wool Show in Bendigo. Love it!

Last Friday was my third visit to the show and each time I think I love it more. I think I understand it more and I think I am less overwhelmed and inspired by it more.

I love it all the way from the sheep, to the fleece, to the sheep and wool peeps. I love watching them judging, handling, admiring, wearing, spectating and socialising.

I love watching the spinners and weavers and felters and dyers and knitters and crocheters too. I love the passion they have for their craft. I love watching their fingers move, the smiles on their faces and the excited way they describe what they do. I feel like I'm one of them. It makes me happy.

I love watching the way the stalls are set up. Trestles and baskets and bowls and hooks and shelves of glorious woolly delightfulness.

And I love how the shoppers shop. According to their craft, their colour pallet, their yarn weight, their yarn type, their budget.

I love the weaving.

I love the felting.

I love the yarn bombing.

I love the buttons.

I love all the different types of needles and hooks.

And most of all, I adore the wool.

On my first trip to the show, four years ago, I was so new to the wool crafts and so overwhelmed that I went home empty handed. Not so much this time. Now I know that I love organic, Australian made, naturally dyed, and 8ply or chunkier.

I had such a great time. I Love that my farmer boy did too. Taking a day off farm-work to walk from stall to stall, to chit chat with the stall holders and to carry my bags.

I'm hoping that by next year's show we might have a few woolly friends of our own living here. I'm hoping that I'll be a spinner by then too.

Oh what fun!

I'll have to show and tell my purchases another day, I've run out of room.


Did you go to the show?
Did you have a great weekend?


Happy new week you guys.

xx

the book quilt

If writing my book was all crocheted up into the squares of the book blanket, then these few weeks before the release time is definitely stitched into the book quilt.

Each email received and sent, each room tidied and cobweb brushed away, each photo taken, each interview question answered, each time and date diarised, each little piece of nervousness and over-emotion, each big piece of excitment buliding, each ohmygoodness ohmygoodness I wrote a book!

Each time I cut out a bunting flag to advertise the book, I also cut out a tiny 9mm by 9mm square of the same fabric.

As I sewed and pressed the flags, I sewed the little squares into long strips.

And as I stamped the bunting, I took breaks and sewed the strips into a quilt.

There was never any plan beyond the current stage. There still isn't.

Sometime over the next little while when I am meant to be doing something else, hopefully I'll sort through my stuff and find an old blanket. Then I'll pin the little sqaures to the blanket and to a bigger piece of fabric. And then sometime after that I'll stitch it all together. Together.

It's not all that big so I don't know what will become of it or where it will go.

But I do know that this time just before the release has surprised me with its mixture of jumbled up emotions. It feels big and sometimes overwhelming to see my name printed in red on the cover and the photos that I took and words that I wrote inside. It feels like an acomplishment and through the nerves I am also really proud.

I also feel really lucky to be a crafter. For the therapy of the cut and the stitch and for this quilt that holds the stories of this time. It's such a blessing really.

Happy weekend my friends.
I do hope yours is wonderful.

xx

Odds and ends though

Our weekend.

(Ups and downs, round and rounds.) Repeat.

Freezing cold mornings and the most gloriously sunny afternoons.

Farm chores.

Buzzy bees leaving their warm, winter hives for bathroom breaks and to snack on the flowering gums.

Brilliant blue skies.

A new rug.

A dancing concert for the teddies, complete with flashlight spotlight.

Missing our farmer boy away at the beach with his mates.

Casting off two scalloped beanies. Miss Jazzy's details here. Miss Pepper's details here.

An afternoon smokey bon-fire with marshmallows, potatoes and damper.

A birthday bestie phone call.

Snacks for dinner.

Movies til too late.

A sleepless night without my boy.

A Sunday lazy, late morning.

One fire survived the night, one didn't.

A movie and pop corn in Ballarat for some and about 6,000 steps around the streets for the others.

An angelic almost teen.

A new bunny home for the fluffies.

A relight of the kitchen fire with a milk carton.

A runaway middle child.

A homecoming Bren.

Soup for dinner.

Some knitting on the couch.

Soon to bed.

But before bed, some of this.

A lump of ends bought from the Bendigo Woollen Mills bargain backroom a few months ago. Just under 100 grams. I'm thinking a scarf. Maybe. If I have enough. I really feel like something odds and ends though.

What do you feel like?
How was your weekend?

xx