Starting and finishing

Moaning Mona, as she is becoming known, is nearly finished. She should have been handed in at our meeting last Saturday, but she's nearly there.

This meeting involved several very enjoyable little workshops being run by members of Sussex Stitchers, embracing the sharing skills and knowledge side of belonging to the Embroiderers' Guild. We have also been running a monthly stitching group (called Fly Stitchers) for some newer members to give them more confidence in their (already very good) stitching. One of the questions we are often asked is about starting and finishing threads.

There are a couple of schools of thought on this. One of the most common methods is the "away knot", where the end of the thread is knotted and brought down into the fabric far enough away from your starting point that you can take it through to the back of the work and weave in when you have finished. This is a really good method if you are working on small motifs and designs, or using a stitch which isn't intended to cover the fabric.

In the case of Mona, however, the area of her hair is densely stitched with a mixture of stem and outline stitch (of which more in a bit). This being the case, I've used the method recommended by RSN teachers, which is to run the thread down on the line you will be covering with stitching, then bring it back up and take a small backstitch to anchor it before starting the stitching proper. When you get to the end of the thread, you do a similar thing in reverse.

So here you can see various "freckles" in the unstitched area of her hair, where I have got to the end of a thread and "parked" by making a small securing stitch, bringing the end of the thread to the surface again and snipping it close to the linen. It will stay there until it is covered by subsequent stitching. (The bottom edge is much squarer than it appears here!)

You can also park thread temporarily, as below, where in the foreground and further up you can see threads ready to be used for the next bit of stitching. I have started stitching upwards from the area of organza where her hair meets her face, rather than working from the top down and risking a bulge in the layers of organza.

Here, below, you can see where I have started a strand of darker brown, the loose end is middle right, and if you look closely you can see the tiny anchoring stitch just before the needle goes down into the fabric, having come up where I am starting this colour. On the left are two more needles with different blends of brown as I am mixing colour both in the needle and as I move across the hair from left to right.

The other thing I am doing is mixing stem and outline stitch so that there is more texture in the hair, rather than having the twist of the stitches all one way. If you're not sure of the difference, the source of all good stitchy information Mary Corbet will tell you here.

Now for the other bit of finishing - i.e. finishing Moaning Mona

Having seen lots of our other stitchers' contributions, I think she's going to look rather wonderful when she's done. I'll be sure to take a pic to show you.

Dye and stitch and sometimes both

So a little free time focus and some fun with the dyepot. These below a set of fabrics variously manipulated in shibori fashion, stitched, pleated, folded, bound, crumpled.

Dyed with synthetic indigo, flushed through with a wash of petrol green towards the end - I enjoy playing with the parameters of what and when. The colours not quite right here, but you get the idea.

Then in a plastic tray, this scrumptious srcumpledness. Again, shibori stitched, dyed bright yellow a few days ago, then extra colour flooded in as a second process

And here it is unwrapped and blended together with three other bits of cloth from those long ago sheets. Some of my experiments in my first year or two with Christine top and third, second and fourth dyed very recently to complement. I intend spreading them out a bit onto a backcloth so each can have its own voice, but still be part of a whole

And the cities begin to grow in Mesopotamia - 

Assur, capital of the Assyrian Empire the latest to manifest as we flow down the Tigris, Dur Sharrukin, Nineveh and Nimrud nestled in the confluence of the Greater Zab and the Tigris

Focus

Yes, focus, I could really do with more!

I have been absent from here for some time, just being busy really. I have several projects on the go - never giving quite enough time to any of them, but hoping to get more than one thing finished by giving each at least some time. So there is the Mona Lisa project with my Embroiderers' Guild group. We have chopped her up into 25 rectangles and have each taken one to work on with whichever technique we feel suitable. I have her forehead. Just about to start cutting out organza shapes to get the colour of her skin before stitching that and finishing her hair.

Then there is my Mesopotamia project at Studio 11 - very slow stitch, but I am thinking about it all the time; how to express what catches my interest about the subject, how to be creative with ideas as well as images in stitch and cloth. The two rivers, Tigris and Euphrates are gradually flowing down the hanging I'm working on at the moment.

and towns are popping up along the way - in this case, Dur Sharrukin, Nineveh and Nimrud

Also, there is my patchwork - that monthly class which a little group of us are attending where we are learning all the basic skills in a nine patch quilt with borders. Just the borders and quilting to do now!! Only a little bit behind!!!

And recently I acquired,  or perhaps took over responsibility for the most wonderful piece of English Paper Piecing, a Grandmother's Flower Garden quilt, part finished, left to a friend by her godmother. The friend feels she can't finish it so it has been sitting on the top of her wardrobe making her "feel guilty" for the past 13 years.  It is double bed size, and I have fallen in love with it.

There are odd edges that need finishing before I can get to grips with how to proceed. There are also lots more hexies to be cut and stitched round the templates, template papers to be removed from the completed bits of piecing, flowers to be pieced and decisions to be made.

Such inventive fussy cutting.

I have no idea how long finishing will take, but it's a daily bit of quiet stitching that does my soul good.

On top of all that, I am now part way through a ten week course on the history of Mesopotamia - part way through and falling behind! Falling behind because we have been away for three long weekends in the past seven weeks, doing very enjoyable family things with my dear heart's family. This last weekend we were in Kassel for a very joyful wedding. The weather was toasty, the sun shone, the corn poppies were blooming

and the church roof threw back the light to the sky

Then this post popped into my side bar of places I enjoy.

How to have more focused hours in your day

Wonderful advice, but will I take it?

Life is full.

Memorial

I went yesterday to the funeral of an old friend, from a long past life. I haven't seen or spoken to him for probably twenty five years, though I have stayed in touch with his family via FB.

We all knew each other in the days of Jen's early childhood, meeting when they brought their children in to the library where I worked, seeing each other regularly for a number of years, finding common ground and interests. Jen was the same age as their youngest, Jamie, and she adored his two older sisters.  We were good friends at a difficult time of my life but as often happens, our families drifted apart, each overburdened with the challenges life sometimes brings.

Seeing his lovely children grown with children of their own, hearing their moving tributes to their Dad, I was caught up in long ago memories of warm summer weekends; the children playing together somewhere in the evening air as Mon, Pete and I chatted about life, and how best to live it, or  wandered in the bee buzzy garden, examining small trees, bean rows and the grand compost heap. I gained so much from our friendship and am deeply grateful for it.

My love of slow trees is one legacy of those garden chats; Pete picking up one of his trees in mid October, and blowing vigorously so that a few more precarious leaves dropped, turning to me with his wonderful grin; "see, it's Autumn".

These trees were all planted or gathered from the wild then,

The beech not yet showing buds

guelder rose, hiding holm oak and birch

gnarled roots witness time's passage

delicate branches

This rowan was gathered from the wild back then. It lived as a slow tree for many years, and was finally grounded when we moved here. Left where it was, right at the edge of the footpath, it would have been trampled into the ground. It likes this sunny spot and gives the local birds flowers and berries as the sunlight flutters in its leaves.

Our ruminations also developed thoughts about mindfulness and how to live a meaningful life; about how children could be treated, cherished, nurtured in a kinder, less pressured world. There was a quote yesterday from Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist monk whose writings fostered my engagement with the philosophy. As life has become more physically painful for me, that philosophy has been so valuable. Another a legacy.

And today, this time of year, is ripe for reflections on loss and living; how often we don't recognise the preciousness of now, and the people who surround us; the wisdom of reflecting on the treasures life has already offered us; a point to pause and breathe and just be with what life is.

Thank you Pete, and Mon xx

Spring springing

I have a cream blouse, haggled for in the Bazaar in Istanbul, which fell foul of one of the very occasional times I succumb to chocolate ice cream. You know it was a hot day, because I was wearing that blouse, light and loose, cotton, embroidered round the neckline and sleeves, just right for a very hot day. That was the last time I wore it, because of course, chocolate ice cream stains, so my cream blouse had a couple of brown marks front and centre, impossible to disguise or erase. Unless, of course, you have recourse to dye and a bucket - oh, and an old stocking.  The blous is folded and comresssed into the stocking, which is tied at the top. The dye an indeterminate colour, an amalgam of magenta, turquoise, and sprinkle of golden yellow and a final flash of purple five minutes before the soda went in. Spring always nudges me to get an orange bucket or two out

Yes, I know the image looks a little .... ummm, strange shall we say. And that's after I've cropped it

Looking forward to unwrapping this

Time together

Courtesy of Google Maps

This week I had the pleasure of spending a day and a bit going to London with my beloved daughter. We were visiting the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery, in the service of investigating a whole series of hidden but debilitating symptoms; tachycardia, extreme fatigue, dreadful giddiness and the like, with which am very familiar as they are part of having an inherited connective tissue disorder. In Jen's case this is exacerbated by dyspraxia. We were seen by a delightful consultant, and I was able to help fill in details of family members affected, going back six generations. I was also able, by being there, to learn from the consultant more about how better to manage it, as I too have the condition.

It was lovely spending time with Jen. We live in the same town, so see each other, regularly, but going away is different. We went up Wednesday evening and spent the night there. She crocheted and I sewed on the way there and back. We talked about life and the way of living it, had smiling interactions with fellow travellers on our journey, people watched with mischievous pleasure.

Had Jen felt well enough while in London, we would have gone to the British Museum for a mooch and lunch after her morning appointment. As it was I was happy to be there to provide an arm for balance and leaning on as we navigated the mad whirl that is our capital city, with hurrying folk whizzing along in the Underground; talking business in Pret; striding down the pavements; people who would not understand her frailty. I used to have the same feeling when out with Mum, who was badly affected with brittle bones, an element Jen and I have escaped, but also invisible to the onlooker.

We came home by train in the afternoon; both exhausted and painful, but carrying on because what else can you do with a life limiting condition? It is a short walk from the station to her home and she was happy not to wait for my lift, so we hugged and parted. As she walked away I could see her swaying steps, hand out for balance, the occasional slight lurch. To passers by, a quick glance might prompt some dismissive though about lunchtime drinkers waving their way home.

I know that there goes my brave girl, getting on with life.

Down in the Dell - an update

The Dell is at the very bottom of the garden, it is where the badgers dwell, and where the butterflies and buzzies dance in the summer. it is semi wild, very untamed, but we try and keep that wildness under a little bit of control, otherwise there is the chance that a Sleeping Beauty level climbing rose will take over the greenhouse.

so I expedited with tools of a cutting variety this morning, and was faced with this,

I had desultory companions, who quickly vanished once the serious stuff started to happen

and had to remember that, as this is where the badgers dwell, I'd better keep an eye on my ankles

I toiled and toiled in the morning sunlight in this tucked away little corner

can you see the difference below?

Of course the light has changed, but the barrow has filled to a towering pile and a great deal of deadwood and tall arching rose stems have been reduced to a tidy pile. Just above the wheelbarrow, looking like frail little sticks in the air, is a rather lovely lilac tree, suddenly able to breathe and full of blossom buds, which I was very careful not to disturb. Just beside the wheelbarrow is a plum in delicate blossom

We hope for more fruit this year. We also know that, despite my effort this morning, we will still find the Dell full of the soft scent of roses once the season is upon us.

At the top of the garden, the pond is practicing catching sunlight

Enjoy this lovely spring weather while it lasts