A Baby and a Bear

It feels like it's been weeks since I was here. Well, it is weeks actually. Newborn babies are notorious for just smacking into your life and sending your train careering off down the tracks to Complete Chaosity. Not that it's my baby technically, but it is my baby's baby and so that pretty much counts for the same thing, sans breastfeeding and so, so many sleepless nights. I've had my nanny-hat on a bit here and there, sharing the odd disrupted night rugged up on the sofa, rocking a bundle into slumber, offering moral support. Washing and shopping and processing sink-fulls of dirty dishes ... and sneaking a few minutes here and there to add stitches to my knitting.

x x x Isn't he adorable ... [Baby R on Instagram] x x x

But now that Baby R is a few weeks old and things are starting to settle into some semblance of routine, my mind is returning to those things I have laid aside (and those things that have been forming clouds in the back of my mind). Like playing with the sack-full of Dorset fleece patiently waiting in the Room-of Requirement. Okay, it's not really the Room of Requirement, but I humour myself with this euphemistic reference to our garage. It truly fits everything but the car ...

Fleecy Poll Dorset fleece, smelling of lanolin and sheepy sheep. 

Full of prickles and burrs, barley seeds and dirt.

 

With Watson's poodle wool thrown in for contrast

 Here I must thank the dog for donating some wool. Just a little bit. He didn't like me brushing his ears before going to the groomer (think cleaning the house before the cleaner arrives). He was a handful, and he unwillingly yielded a handful. This was some perverse justice at work, considering all the knitting he has eaten this year.

I was weary from work last night and too tired to think anything but woolly thoughts. My hand turned to carding a job-lot of washed-up fleece. I was listening to Girl With a Pearl Earring [Tracey Chevallier] while plying wisps of wool between the dog's slicker brushes (works a treat). I had not started this process with anything in mind other than the brushing of wool. I'm not quite sure how the bear happened. He started out as possibly a rabbit, but quickly morphed into a very jowly dog. As my audiobook classic concluded it's final chapter, I realised that he had in fact, emerged as a bear. A fat-faced, slightly lopsided bear ... with potential. :)

It's funny how a random process, a beginning made with no end in sight, yields one small and happy thing that is so hugely satisfying. I suppose (in a kind of a way) it's a bit like making a baby. :)

Now that I am a grandmother I have one more person in my life to love truly, madly, deeply (and one more reason to make fun stuff).

Happy making my friends,

Evie 
x x x

Baby Quilt 2013-1: In The Beginning

 I bit the bullet. Today, this afternoon in fact. I riffled through the fabric stash like a mad woman and hunted out several likely contenders for Baby Quilt 2013-1. I've put dash-one because I have a vague notion that I might just make another baby quilt after this one. So many fabrics . . .

I had to clear the decks a bit before I could get to the cutting board (why do I collect so much stuff??). I have decided on circles. Red, blue, maybe a smidge of yellow. Who knows? As I pulled the rotary cutter from it's drawer I had that small flutter of excitement that always comes when starting a new adventure. There's not much of a plan. I will keep it simple. But I always love this journey (well, the beginning bit anyway). Will I finish? I expect so; nothing like a deadline to keep me on track.

Block number one is kind of looking like this so far. Only 34 blocks to go  . . . Some will be pieced (like this one) and others will be fussy cut from those Cat In The Hat prints, so reminiscent of my own childhood. I have fiddled with a few more blocks and I'm kind of happy with my little beginning. But that's it for today. Time for a cup of tea and some quiet knitting with the dog. Playing always seems to make one so tired . . .

Evie xxx

Winter Woolly Katoomba

The Blue Hour Cafe - Katoomba

This morning I drove up the mountain to Katoomba, the principal township and tourist mecca of this City-Within-a-National-Park. I thought I might get to take a couple of photos of the view from the top of the main street, but in true mountains form, it was one of those shrouded in mist kind of mornings. So instead of a Blue Mountains vista you are getting a view of my feet on the tiled doorstep of my favourite little breakky spot in this town that I love. I should have remembered that the top of the mountain has a special weather pattern all of its own. While I woke to a grey but temperate morning down my end of the range, at the other end of the hill it was somewhat chilly misty moisty and spitting with rain.

  

With bacon with egg and a sizable coffee under my belt, I tottered up the hill that is Katoomba Street with little happy snap camera still in my hand. It was just after 9am, and many of the shops up and down the strip were still sleepy-head closed. But the florist, as is the case with most florists, must have been up earlier than most to have these delightful fresh blooms stacked in the wagon by their door.

And this is a pic of one of the council garbage bins that are dotted along the pavements. Right at the top of the street is the historic Carrington Hotel, queen of the roaring 20s, now quite faithfully restored and bought back to life. The influence of this grand old lady is beautifully reflected in this rendition of the native Waratah, once abundant in the surrounding bushland. Very pleasant picture of a garbage bin, don't you think?

But my mission this morning was to deliver a goodly bag of unwanted yarn to a band of community yarnbombers; always greedy for woollen string with which to beautify the urban landscape. With my secret drop off under my belt, I loitered around for a bit until the Katoomba Knitting & Needlecraft store opened it's doors at 10.00am (See, it is a sleepy town).

Knitters candy

So joyous and bright

So dependable

And this is what I was waiting for. Navy blue sock yarn. While it *might* appear to be a fairly pedestrian choice, I have it in mind to knit school socks for my man-child. I rail against commercial cotton socks that grow holes in the toes and make feet sweaty and cold. I bought four balls. There's quite a whack of yarn in these, and considering my man-child likes to wear those ankle sport socks I reckon I'll get at least eight pairs out of this lot. But it's going to be a handbag job; one of those projects that sits in my bag for passenger trips in the car and waiting around in waiting rooms. But I'm glad I managed to bag the yarn at 20% off the usual price.

And while I was there, I picked up several balls of lovely Heirloon 5-ply in a softly-softly grey. Will be perfect for this classic raglan baby cardigan methinks. Maybe, if I am lucky, I might be able to get this on the needles this evening.

And now for the last thing, which maybe should have been the first thing, a little ta-da! Amongst the woolly jumble inherited from CC's mum back in January were a few balls of vintage Cleckheaton 8-ply. I can't decide whether it's caramel or brown rice, but I think caramel sounds better. I couldn't really date the label, but I'm guessing maybe from the 1970s? Anyway, I finished these off last night, with a crochet trim in mocha to tart them up a bit. So now that I think on it, perhaps the overall effect is cappuccino. Isn't it wonderful that yarn doesn't go off or expire? And in these days of everything-old-is-new-again I am pleased with my waste not want not baby booties. With a little more cloudy rainy weather on the cards for the weekend I am happily anticipating lots more of the clickety-clack (with pots of tea).

Happy stitching,

Evie xxx

From the River to the Sea

Last week delivered buckets and buckets of rain, drenching an already soaked landscape with water far in excess of what was needed. With creeks and rivers up and down the coast already filled to capacity there was nothing for it but for water to start spilling from the magnificent Warragamba Dam south-west of Sydney. And while all this precipitation was highly conducive to a couple of days of rugged-up knitting, cabin fever was definitely brewing in my household. What could be more exciting at a time of record-worthy rain than to jump into the car and tour down to the lowlands to see the raging torrent.

We, like numerous other locals, stood on the Yarramundi Bridge watching the rising waters swirl and strain as little waves began to wash up near our feet. It felt like a somewhat foolish thing to do despite the sturdiness of the structure. It is a bridge that was built for flood-time, and has often withstood such waters. I'm not much of a daredevil, in fact, I'm probably the biggest scaredy-cat I know, so this was living on the edge for me ... We came home, had a glass of red wine to warm the weary, and I once again picked up my knitting.

Sunday, ah Sunday loomed a little brighter and the rain had mostly blown away. A visit to see family took us near enough to the coast to make us want to flit out and see the sea. One of things I love about long car trips is that while I am watching the world go by my knitting bag sits on my lap, a constant and comfortable travel companion. As suburban streets turn into roads, and roads turn into motorways my needles silently and rhythmically work their special magic. I am knitting with four needles, and as one round precedes another, my work continues to lengthen and grow. The beanie that was started on Friday night was all but finished on our journey to the sea and back.

Now my little brown Baby Baby set is complete and I think young Mr P is going to look very snuggly in these oh-so-mini-man woollies, don't you?

So I've started on the next knitty thing, a pair of two-toned mocha/blue baby socks that are going to turn out just grand I reckon. And while I'm getting all this knitting done I've also been thinking about getting my sewing room back in order. Baby P should be with us in about 16 weeks (give or take a bit).Yikes! I have this lovely lovely baby quilt rolling around in my brain, with some red and some aqua blue on a creamy cream background.  But it's all still shrouded in mist and will doubtless unfold itself about the same time I pull the rotary cutter from the drawer. Tomorrow is a no can do day, and Thursday is already spoken for. So maybe on Friday I will clear the decks, trawl through the fabrics and see if they will take me from the river to the sea.

Until next time,

Evie xxx

Baby Baby [with tea and cake]

If last month was Jumping January here in my Stitchity world, then this one has definitely been Flat February. Despite all my best intentions I have found it near impossible to make any sort of time in the last few weeks for stitching of any kind. The first month of the new year was a blurry haze, fueled by pain and painkillers, but it was also a strangely creative time as well. And now that the dust has pretty much settled, quite literally, I have been attempting to recover my household from the five-week absence of the housekeeper (me).  During the time that I was missing in action I had to delegate the dismantling and relocation of my sewing room from one end of the house to the other. The boys did a sterling job under the circumstances, but until I can muster the time and energy to reorganise their effort there will be no stitching here.

So I have turned to knitting in the evenings. There is a vaguely suppressed feeling of panic about the arrival of my very first grandbaby, due in 17 weeks time. It will be high winter, and a bubby must have warming woollies for those chilly and frosty days. In a serendipitous moment I made one of those bookish "heart buys" last year when trawling the shelves of my local repository of tomes, The Turning Page in Springwood. I now wonder, was it prophetic perchance?

I love this book, each and every page, but I especially love this almost vintage little chappy man-vest. The design is simple, with a purl stitch detail running in lines down the front and the back. The pattern called for Debbie B's own Baby Cashmerino, but sadly finding it absent on the shelves of my local yarn stockist I turned to a tried and true old classic in Paton's Bluebell. This is a crepe yarn made from 100% Australian wool (and therefore it is good).

The vest was finished over the weekend - a miserable grey Saturday, where up and down the Eastern coast rivers were swelling and spilling from torrential rain and howling winds were uprooting trees and tearing at already battered communities. It was wet-wet-wet here in the mountains, but there was no risk of flood and the worst of the winds seemed to pass us by. In a household denuded of people I sat quiet and content with basket of yarn and a puppy at my feet. I have been listening to a reading of Anna Karenina over the last few weeks - an audio-book loan from my local library. The vest is finished, the matching socks are almost a pair. The book is still a work in progress, but I have yet to fashion a little woolly beanie to finish the set, so there are hours more of comforting cocoon-time ahead. But back to the cake ...

I found this recipe for Delicious Lemon Bread with Lemon Glaze on the Primally Inspired webpage over the weekend. As someone who tends to avoid grains and refined sugars I thought I'd give this a whirl and see whether it really WAS a cake substitute. The cake is based on coconut flour and uses loads of lemon juice and zesty zest with a small whack of honey for flavour. So I measured, and grated, and juiced, and whisked the whole mess together and tipped it in a pan ...

I thought a light sprinkling with poppy seeds in order with all that lovely lemony goodness in the mix. When the timer on the oven went *bing* piping hot cake was removed and liberally brushed with a lemon and honey glaze and left it to cool. And the verdict? Um, I shall be polite and say that I think this is a recipe with potential. The generous amount of "baking soda" [read bi-carb] is much more generous than good taste would dictate. So next time, I think the soda won't even leave the cupboard, and maybe a goodly cup of shredded organic coconut wouldn't go astray. But in the end, I have for the most part given up cake. And there really isn't any substitute for good cake, is there!

Evie xxx

Quilt Restrospective - Blocks for Hamish

It's been terribly quiet here on the Stitchity front and with not much opportunity for creative stuff, I thought perhaps I could trawl through some old photographs and share another retrospective project. This happy little quilt was whipped up for baby Hamish in the midst of a feverish, baking summer about six years ago (circa January 2007). I remember how very hot the air felt in my sewing space at the top of the house. How terribly mad it was to be stitching away at a top and quilting a quilt through those days of radiant heat and light.

Perhaps my decision to use these bright fabrics, all pulled from my stash and from the voluminous basket of scrappy  prints left over from the quilty projects of years gone by was somehow influenced by this crazy tropical atmosphere. My quilts are rarely planned. I find I mostly prefer to just make things up as I go. There is a certain kind of enjoyment in the experience of letting the creative process unfold, and allowing the materials at hand to have their say.

With no particular starting point in mind, I began the experiment with just one block, a 4" finished star block (the one in the top left hand corner). A border with cornerstones was added, and there was a beginning. Block after block followed. Some just cut and machine pieced, others foundation pieced, like the sailing ship, the fish in the corner and the Australian rosella parrot. I really love the puppy dog, foundation pieced with hand-appliqued eyes and nose, and I couldn't resist throwing in an English pieced Grandmother's Flower Garden block (my one weakness).

Each block was sashed with plain black homespun, followed by a deep border of black and white checked fabric. Then I continued to rummage through scraps of fabric, finding pieces that could be cut into lengths, some longer, some shorter, but enough to strip piece a border of bejeweled squares to finish it off. The elements are simple, the end result pleasing. Not necessarily a work of genius, but an eminently harmonious blending of colour and form, and a gift perfectly suited for a newborn baby's foundational years.

I can't believe that Mr H. has grown up so quickly, that hot summer fortnight of feverish piecing and quilting doesn't seem that long ago. I expect that this quilt will look somewhat worn now. It has probably endured endless days as a playmat, a bright and happy playtime friend on the floor, and a warm and familiar comfort for night-time snuggles on the sofa. It will not last a lifetime, these things rarely do. They become used, soiled, are washed, re-used, scrunched, ruffled and sometimes even chewed! They may be patched from time to time, and eventually become relegated to the back of the cupboard, or may find an even sadder end.

But the memory of fabrics, of the images and colours and shapes will remain. Those things that are very dear to us as small children are generally imprinted on our psyche, deep within the very fibres of our being. There may be times throughout our lives when snippets of happy play days return to us, gentle as the whisperings of the wind, or like waves crashing on the shore. Who knows, what legacy this quilt may leave to a small child. My simple hope is that some pleasant relic of a childhood memory will remain.

Happy birthday Hamish

love,

Evie xxx