Lenten Craft.

This soft cardigan is following me everywhere at the moment. I am feeling the need to use things up, finish projects and shift into another season. So I find myself allowing deep holes to be dug in the garden so I can finish a long yellow row in the sunshine. I spent yesterday afternoon with a friend delving into the recycling bin and ironing plastic bags, drinking straws and Hama Beads between sheets of baking paper for children to make into garden sculptures. We were so delighted with the jewel - like results that we went into a frenzy, hunting around for more scrap plastic, blasting plastic bottles with a blowtorch and melting plastic food trays and lids in the oven- heaven! C is still poorly, home from school, tired and hot but cheered up by making an Easter garden in a big dish with grass seed, baby spider plants and tobacco plant and lobelia seedlings stolen from the window sill.

Spring!

There has been a lot of miserable coughing and sneezing going on all around me here, so stabbing soft wool into sculptural fuzziness has been a treat. I am hoping soon to make figures that look less alarmed or 'Trumpton'esque. I was hoping for an ethereal quality which sadly defeats me (in all areas of life!)

I may be some time

I found this in my drafts box- it has lain forgotten rather like letters in my hallway, so often waiting for stamps and a walk to the letterbox.

I haven't written for so long, looking back through my posts it looks almost as though the snow never thawed and here we still are in arctic conditions! This somehow eases me back in and makes me feel that despite a little turbulence along the way (mostly dog related) things are rolling on just as they always were, just a little more peacefully, with an older toddler and a dog we now share with another family (really that should be a national scheme!) Things feel as though they are more often coming back together, sledge and snow, toddler and older children, energy and camera.

Carefree Clothes for Girls

Myrtle hates dresses. Ever since she could voice an opinion she has insisted on (loose) t shirts and trousers; even her toys are boys . But the patterns in this book appeal to her, with their raw edges, loose fit and rolled up trousers underneath. Of course we are not calling them dresses, they are 'blouses'. I'm really pleased with these. I left the sleeves out and they whipped up very quickly and fit well. The green spotty fabric is by Amy Butler and so great was my enthusiasm I cut straight into it. The flower motif is a section of a crocheted doily bought from a jumble sale (the spoils of which I will show you soon.) The turquoise linen is from an adult skirt found in the charity shop and it meets with Myrtle's approval despite its lacy edge that reminds me of a circular tablecloth. This thought has had me sniffing through my piles of vintage linens and old curtains for little pieces. Even a pair of Mr B's trousers had me thinking. Finally Myrtle wants me to make her dresses; believe me nothing is safe..

Potions

I've been full of cold and restless this week, mixing up soups (celery and cashew nuts my favourite) and potions of coffee; in a flask for dog walks, with hot milk, cardamon, cinnamon and brown sugar for home. I've been trying to draw something everyday, badly but patiently. I'm dreaming of mixing this inky blue mohair wool (rescued first from a deep plastic box in the charity shop for 50p and just now from Treacle's mouth) with other oddments to create something like the pictures in this book.

Dress

A work in progress, hanging in front of our calender and weather tree. This was a big shapeless vintage dress with two pockets. I sliced into it using a home made pattern I love using over and over again, knowing it fits, sits happily over trousers and under cardigans, knowing it needs only a metre and a half of fabric or a found dress. I tend to live with things a long time before I finish them, a fact I used to find frustrating about myself but now I accept as a kind of celebration of process.

Carrying Bread

We wake up to fresh breadmaker bread every day (thanks to Mr B) and wrapping the remains of the warm loaf in a plastic supermarket bag has been feeling all wrong for ages ( though it is rare for there to be much left after three ravenous children spread slabs of it with my mum's jam and Mo and I dunk it into soup or hummus at lunchtime). I made this little embroidered picture a year ago now, remembering a golden autumn walk home from the shop with a loaf of bread, secretly carrying Mo inside me, watching Myrtle make ladybirds and butterflies into pets all the way. I turned it into a drawstring bag last night, with a little patchwork frame that I agonised over for ages, staring at fabric and playing with different combinations, daring myself to get over my inability to use the really special pieces (which in my case are always the ones that cost the least- tiny 50p 1950's aprons or tablecloths, that feel like treasure washed up in the tide, never to be found again) So now the final crust of todays bread is wrapped in its cloth story bag and the very oldest fabric in my collection is still behind glass and all is well with the world.

Moving the oasis

Our snowflakes seemed magically, briefly, to restore our dog walking world to shiny frozen white. I finished that hat just in time for another snowy expedition but looking at this photo of it (and many taken of Mo playing recently) I realised how much of his time since Treacle's arrival has been spent above puppy height, sitting up on the kitchen worktop chatting to me while I chop vegetables, standing on a chair 'washing-up' at the sink or sitting in our window with his cars and trains. Its been bothering me that none of his play could be on the floor any more and after two walks in the pouring rain thinking bitter thoughts about the dog I did what I always do when faced with periods of personal crisis; I moved the furniture. I found the play pen we had for Myrtle when she was a baby and used it to barricade a section of the kitchen. Those warm blankets came downstairs for the sofa and with great delight I filled the newly puppy-proofed space with baskets of books and Mo's favourite toys. This has solved daytime play problems beautifully. Now Myrtle Mo and C are scootering up and down in the kitchen with all the lights off wearing head torches much to the dog's loud dismay. Hmm........

Cold

We are missing the snow. The paths through the fields are like glass and everywhere else is slush, grey skies and biting cold. Comfort comes in the form of a snowflake chandelier the children and I created at tea time with computer paper and glass baubles (still not put away from Christmas.) It's hard to photograph but it looked so beautiful to us after we finished that we sat gazing up at it. I hid upstairs during Mo's tiny afternoon nap to finish a hat and a book full of descriptions of deep snow. I miss having my blankets downstairs (turns out puppies and crochet don't mix) but they make our bed feel like some kind of deep winter oasis.

Ragged cloud brooch

I love the fraying edges of this linen scrap so left them showing and used more of the soft white tapestry wool to fill the cloud with snow. Another warm naptime of stitching after a walk through blue white fields sliced through with crisp, grey shadows. I love the way the snow softens and transforms everything, makes outdoors dazzlingly beautiful and indoors feel like a refuge to be savoured.

Blue-white

The children have been loving sledging at high speed in the half light after school. I have been enjoying a little slow stitching of snow clouds during the day. I saw a face in this cloud, pieced from Mr B's old work shirts and linen scraps, stitching snowflakes all around him with soft fine tapestry wool found in the charity shop.

More snow

Treacle mo and I crunched through snow and then munched through biscuit versions of ourselves back home!

Rest

Christmas brought us sleep and snow, a chance to walk and talk and gently pass the time. I had many lists of hand made things I was inspired, too late as ever, to make and managed half a knitted owl, still on the needles, and a tiny angel with a red dress for the tree. We loved lego troops collecting on December breakfast tables (one by one they appeared in those advent stockings thanks to a huge bag found in a charity shop), balls that lit up when they bounced, frozen mud, grey skies and winter light on walks with friends and family, slow meals, window stars, new bedroom arrangements, puppet shows, seeing for the first time in two years the empty bottom of the washing basket and (have I already mentioned this?) whole nights of sleep. Happy New Year!

Advent

The arrival of old, long-loved treasures has made a sad and beautiful start to advent. Myrtle is ill, sleepless in the night and restless in the day, distracted by making little pets from felt and houses for them to sleep in. We sent our handmade card swaps off yesterday to the U.S, Australia, China and Canada. This year I need to make more visits to the post office, inspired by all the people who owned this desk before us, filled it with paper and cards, neat address books, remembered birthdays, sent their thoughts out into the world.

Rainy Day

Grey clouds on our walk. I carried Mo , held Treacle back from his roadside mission to chase and eat every leaf and tried to photograph puddles. We ran reaching home just in time. Mo was frightened of the rain thundering on our glass roof so we painted stormy skies and sang about old men snoring.