Sunday, December 27, 2009

Snowshoeing along the Kickapoo

Sunday after Christmas, what a great time to get out the skis, is what we thought. However, given the conditions around the farm, (icy, crusty, bumpy) we decided snowshoes might serve us better. We have a beautiful ski trail we forge most winters along the Kickapoo River, so we thought we'd do that. The approach to the river is long, twisted, and overgrown much of the way. Part of the fun!


Winding our way down to the river, Freddie leads the way. It is quite clear skis would have been a disaster.


Bushwacking through the woods means getting tangled, tripping occasionally, and for me, being way over dressed.


We traversed three slews, being very glad that they were quite solidly frozen.



Finally we arrived at the river. It is always stunning in its beauty, a sight neither Freddie or I ever tire of.

Towards the end of the 3 1/2 hour trek these golden needles caught my eye. The color contrast was lovely, and the golden needles looked like they were ready to be spun. Doesn't seem to be a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

If there is anyone out there reading this I wanted to take a few minutes from this busy day to say


Wet-felted then needle felted- photo- frames.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

JUST SOME ODDS AND ENDS



A Sunday hike around the farm ended at the top of the vineyard overlooking our home. It was just before the huge snowfall, everything seemed a bit surreal.

Looking towards my workshop, the distant vista was not unlike European views.


Two Christmas' ago, when Iris was only months old, I knit the two stockings for her first Christmas.


I love to make and I love to give. I am blessed to have these little ones to receive.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

ALMOST BURIED
This morning I wasn't able to simply open the back door of the house, but had to PUSH it hard against the deep snow that had piled up in front of it. I can't say that this really troubles me, as I love snow, and winter is my favorite season. Still I can't say that shoveling is my favorite pastime, especially when it comes in such hefty amounts.

This is on the deck of my workshop...and believe me it was nearly 16" deep. As I look out of my window right now, there is an additional inch or two on top of that. The skis or snow shoes this afternoon!!!

WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO???



It seems that I just can't help myself from releasing Woolies from the enormous store of wool blankets that beautify my workshop. This is Lucy, and she is happy to be here.


This lovely sophisticate is Ramona.



This young bruiser is named Buster.



Reggie seems to be the worker of the group, with his hammer and farmer's hanky in hand.


This sweetheart is Kate, as in Kiss Me.



Here's the whole troop thus far. I'm not sure how many more are on the horizon, but I must say they haven't bored me one iota as of yet. Actually, everywhere I look, a new 'one' seems to pop up. Hmmmm....maybe I will be buried, if not in snow, in Woolies.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

COLOR-FILLED SMALL SPACE




On Thursday, December 3rd, I filled this small 10x4ft. space with all that I have been working on for the past few months. Vernon Memorial Hospital had their 19th annual Arts/Crafts Fair, and it was well attended.




Another view of my space. It was a good day, despite a chair so ergonomically incorrect that I am still suffering.

Now that this show is over, my hands and mind are in perpetual unrest. So I am starting some new Woolies, the little creatures 'trapped in my blankets', as they were quite a hit. We'll see what is liberated this time.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

BUSY IN THE WORKSHOP


I have a 'small' Christmas show coming up this week, and I have been making items that I thought might actually sell. It has, I must admit, been lots of fun!



This stack of blankets is one of many in my workshop. I collect old wool blankets and I can't seem to pass up any of them when I see them. I am literally running out of room to store them. I have a friend making me large barn-wood boxes to stack and store them. I love to look at them; their textures, colors.


Recently I thought I heard some faint stirrings from within that stack of blankets. It seemed somewhat like whispers and persisted for a several days until I finally truly heard it. Trapped within those stacks of blankets were multiple 'Creatures' aching to be born.


She is not actually the 'first' born, but rather the third. It was only with this third "birth" I thought to snap an image. That's her, Holly, in the center of her brothers, Zebot (the first born) to the left and Oliver (the second born) to the right.




Iris assisted in the naming of some of the Creatures. The one below, which happened to be her favorite, she named Elsa Mae.


Below is a gathering of the whole lot...at least thus far.



They are made from a variety of old blankets and new blanket ends, some of which are Pendleton blankets.


Then on to needle-felting.



I think of these 'trees' above as my watercolor trees, as they remind me so much of the beautiful, soft colors obtained with wet-paper water-coloring.



These trees were fashioned from an old, green, wool coat. They are adorned with sequins, 'pearls' and glass beads, and stuffed with wool.


I am still in-the-making of birds. I love how each one takes on its own personality despite using the same 'pattern' for each.

This week I'll spend more time prepping for the show, doing more mundane things like tagging and pricing. We'll see if I can halt the creative urges that wake me in the night!

Sunday, November 22, 2009

IT'S ABOUT MAKING....


I found that I liked the results of mixing textures, wool yarn and wool blanket strips, in the last two bags I made. I thought perhaps I could weave two more bags with the warp that was left on my Union loom, but I anticipated needing to 'release' the last of the warp with extensions.

What I did not anticipate was the complicated, tedious process that involved.


The first of the last two bags, which I call 'The Hot Pepper Bag'.

I started this bag in reds and gray because I wanted to embellish it with the hot pepper ribbon you see in the left hand corner. After weaving about three inches with red/gray, I actually looked at the ribbon, which was not red at all, but a 'hot' orange. So, I took apart the weaving and started again with a light orange and gray. Approaching the end, I thought it would be nice if using tapestry techniques, I could inlay some hot peppers, which you see on the right of the bag. And it worked. I like the effect. The vintage button, which I really love, seems to be made of some kind of stone.

Next came this last bag. W
hich was a cinch until I approached the very last of the warp to be released...and had to figure out how to extend what remained on the warp beam. It wasn't easy, but I must say I enjoyed the challenge of it. I will further say, I enjoyed the challenge a bit more then the doing. However, I like the result.


This is the Warp-End Bag.


Recently I signed up to do what I thought to be a small Christmas show, which is coming up soon. Thinking that many of my items might not sell due to their price tags, I thought I'd make some items that might sell.

At first part of me balked at this idea. Where was my artistic/creative spirit, and how much art/creativity comes in making matching mother/daughter aprons and pot holders?? Was I just selling out, so to speak. I spent much time thinking about this, and first of all, came to realize something about myself. I love creating, and this I already knew, but what I did not truly realize was, that what I really loved was MAKING. This covers my love for weaving, cooking, baking, knitting, gardening, and just about 85% of my life. So, making pot holders wasn't really a step down, I actually found it lots of fun, and am still inspired to make more.


Potholders made from recycled wool.

In addition the kitchen is my favorite room of the house. Not only that, I think, for me at least, it is the most essential room of the house. And though I have NEVER been a Martha Stewart fan, I think if you are going to use something, in the kitchen or anywhere, having it be beautiful enhances one's life.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

We're Covered....


I have been fascinated with sewing (and aprons) for quite some time. As a child taking dance lessons, my mother made all of my costumes. They were really lovely. Despite being proud of her skills, I never really valued the process of sewing, and the creativity that she put into it. I do today.


A Navy costume my mother made.


Another military theme.

My uncle Tom and me. He came to see the gypsy dance, under duress, I'm sure.

Betty Apple and me, on the left.. THE BALLERINAS!

The picture I call up of my grandmother, with whom we lived, is standing in the kitchen or the garden, wearing a small-flowered print full length apron. Grandmothers seemed to wear aprons a lot. As I have been making matching mother/daughter aprons lately, and making them and making them, I have explored my fascination a bit. Aprons have a poignant and long history. Somehow just the word calls up a longing in me.

"Aprons have been cooks’ companions for hundreds of years. Indeed, aprons were used by men and women for a variety of tasks long before they were seen on 1950s television. During this era, women were portrayed as homemakers and good mothers and you rarely saw them without their aprons.

Some researchers point to Biblical references about aprons. They cite a passage in which Adam and Eve sewed together fig leaves to make aprons to cover themselves. We traditionally think of aprons being used for cooking, and while that is true, they have served as a cover-up for other tasks that tend to be messy. Occupations such as butchers, welders and bakers have always used aprons to protect both their clothing and bodies from their work.

For centuries, homemakers have used aprons. Even since the early 19th century, women have used aprons to keep their clothing clean. They have also used aprons to carry essential utensils such as rolling pins, for gathering and carrying eggs and for transporting kindling wood. Aprons have been an effective tool for many, many years.

It was not until the 1940s and 1950s that society started to see the stereotypes of the ""perfect mother"" who always wore an apron, no matter what. Until that time, aprons were thought of as a functional piece of the wardrobe.

Today’s aprons are more stylish. Perhaps surprisingly, aprons have made a fashionable comeback, even making occasional runway appearances in the form of the apron dress."


An aproned grandmother(not mine, though it could be) holding a child. Sicily.

It's difficult to see this grandmother's apron, but the ties are visible. Sicily.

An aproned Sicilian grandmother at market.


An apron depicting Sicily.

Spaghetti supper at the Reserve, matching aprons.


Protected against the sauce.


The aproned pasta cooks at the spaghetti supper.

(My father, a great cook, wore aprons a great deal of the time. These men remind me of my dad.)

The cutest aproned cooks yet!


My latest sewing efforts.


Most of the women I know, do not wear aprons, even though they seem to be 'making a comeback'. I wear an apron some of the time, and sometimes seem to be in too much of a 'hurry' to take the time to put one on. Aprons recall days of a less hurried existence. Perhaps putting mine on will slow me down!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

On a Quest

I would not consider myself an accomplished, nor expert knitter. When I was in my thirties I took up knitting, and actually knit many, many items. It wasn't, however, until the upcoming birth of Iris that I took up knitting once again. I must say that I have knit more then a handful of items since. When knitting the body of a garment, following directions is fun, and I'd say mostly a piece of cake. However when it comes to applying patterns to sleeves(including decreases), the fact that I consider myself 'Orientationaly Challenged', seems to come strongly into play. Despite several attempts and equally as many unravelings, I have to draw out a schemata for each and every stitch! Now that is a handicap. Still, I persevere.



The stitch that intrigues.


Knitting, not unlike tapestry weaving, is a contemplative activity (this sometimes gets me into trouble as I can be known to have to unravel many a row.) From the onset of this, my second stage of knitting, while in the contemplative zone, I have wondered time and again, how was the first stitch ever thought of? How did someone know to loop 'yarn' over a stick and somehow draw another loop through it? I mean, I think about this a great deal, and want to know with a passion. I have researched this, granted my research has been limited to the Internet, and have found much interesting information regarding origins of knitting, but nothing that comes near to answering this quest. I have even tried to think as though knitting had never been invented and see if I could duplicate the 'first stitch', to no avail. I understand more readily how, weaving for instance, could have been invented...catching a glimpse of the crossing of long slender leaves, and transposing from there. So, my search just begins, and I hope to come to know how the first piece of knitted fabric came to be.


ItalicCompleted sweater, hat and leg warmers for Elsa. One of the knitting projects started on vacation in the Black Hills.


A couple of years ago, I bought this variegated yarn at a friend's shop. I thought it beautiful, little knowing the difficulty of knitting anything that needed matching, with yarn that revealed itself in a striped pattern. The challenge of this outfit was enormous, but I must say fun. I loved the figuring out of changing necklines, matching stripes, etc.



The second of the knitting projects started in the Black Hills. This one is Iris'.


I recently got back to the loom. An acquaintance had given me some wool carpet yarn, and I decided to experiment weaving with this yarn and blanket strips. The first project is the bag below.



Yellow, gray-green, flower bag.



After that bag came off the loom, I was excited to try again. The above burgundy (both carpet yarn and blanket strips) gold and plum bag was my next weaving. Once started on a weaving venture, I have a tendency to repeat myself. So, I am anxious to use more of this carpet yarn and see what the next bag will look like.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

MY MOTHER

Sarah Adragna

Sonnets are Full of Love
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be

One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee

I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;

Whose service is my special dignity,

And she my lodestar while I go and come

And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath

Of rhymes where with to crown your honored name:

In you not fourscore years can dim the flame

Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws

Of time and change and mortal life and death.



My mother has been on my mind a great deal these days. This coming Friday, October 30th, would have been her 90th birthday. She has been gone now for nearly six years. It hardly seems possible. I have missed her in so many ways, at so many times, and for so many different reasons. There has been much I've wanted to share with her, especially the birth of Jonel's two girls, Iris and Elsa. I recall after coming home from the hospital just after Iris was born, what I wanted most to do was to call my mother.

No matter how old we are, we remain the child. No matter the passing of one's mother, we remain her child. I need her in countless ways in my life, and though I ache inside, she is there for me each time. I once heard a lovely song a mother sang to her child with a line something like this, "you are my flesh, my blood, my bones...", and somehow that has comforted me. What could be more true, I am my mother's flesh and blood and bones, and she lives in me.


We gathered at one of the granddaughter's weddings several years ago.


My siblings and I at my mother's 75th birthday celebration.



For my mother's 75th birthday celebration, among other things, I wrote her a poem. I felt compelled to do so again. This is not a sonnet, nor does it compare to Rossetti, but mother, it is for you:

Is there any part of me
untouched by you?
When I chance
to glance into a mirror
it is you I see.
Not me.

I rue I did not take more time
throughout the years...
to come to know your inner thoughts,
or at least to be more interested
in them;
to come to know your deeper thoughts about
the world;
and love;
and peace;
and war;
and hope;
and God.

I never asked.
You never told.

As I've been shaped
and formed by you
I wonder if my deepest
thoughts
have, too?

There is much of me
that needs repair,
or change
or betterment;
still, when the good of me
comes through
you are there
in thought and word and deed.