The Exhaustion of Spring

This weekend I had plans, big plans, oh my yes.  Apart from a little light planting and mulching (on Friday I had snaffled six large bags of coffee grounds from the delightful baristas at the cafe at work, a record I think and very tricky to get downstairs and home without stretching one's arms), it was going to be indoors and stitching away on an Art Deco dress for next February.  February always rolls around a lot faster than I think it's going to but this time I was going to be prepared, oh yes indeed.  So, out into the garden bright and early on Saturday morning to plant the lily bulbs kindly donated to me by a dear friend.  Then onto the garden with the coffee grounds, first mixed in with compost.  But the weeds, the weeds were calling.  And the hanging baskets needed replanting.  And the front porch was in dire need of sweeping out and then that made me notice that some of the plants there needed attention.  On it went, and now the end of the weekend is here and not a single stitch has been put into an Art Deco costume.  After Saturday's efforts I predicted to myself that I would be too sore to continue on Sunday but it was fine.  Maybe next weekend it will be raining and there will be some enforced indoor time.  Whether it is raining or not, I must do better in the sewing room.  If I ever recover from my labours this weekend, that is.  I feel I need to return to work tomorrow for a well earned rest.  I imagine my colleagues would object if I fell asleep and started dribbling into my keyboard, though.

How lovely it was to be outside.  After the bird bath was cleaned out a male blackbird had the most lengthy bath and was a joy to watch.  And the spring light was so intense on some of the plants, the sun shining through the holes which must have been bitten into this leaf before it unfurled were casting bright shadows on the rest of the leaf, I had to stop and admire the effect for quite some time.  (And stretch out my back.)

The dark purple tulips were most obliging and blossoming their hearts out.  They are so velvety and the colour is so deep and rich, it does make a person wonder at the huge variety in the natural world.  

And all the while I was observed closely by a disapproving rabbit, who was deeply suspicious of my actions in his patch.

We had had a very eventful time before even arriving at Shoestring Cottage.  Only about three weeks ago my little Figaro car broke down on the way to the cottage, and my sister (who is a rock and the most helpful and uncomplaining sister a body could ever desire) towed us all the way to her house.  The problem was detected the next day by Mr Shoestring (yes, being an amateur is another one of his many and varied talents), and we were on the road again.  Then the same thing happened this week, and my poor sister had to turn out in the cold and dark and tow us once again.  This time I noticed that she had bought a new tow rope and torch, that is how well organised she is.  Anyway, she must have felt sorry for me, because she insisted on giving me my Christmas present early and I have been using it already this weekend.  A lovely cup, saucer, side plate and dinner plate with violets painted on it.  Perfection!

While I was using it this weekend I was musing about the fact that we love to collect things for our loved ones, once we know their tastes and likes.  Some people have very definite and predictable tastes and I am one of them, so I suppose I am easy to buy for.  My sister has been presenting me with violet china for probably about 40 years now, and I never can get enough.  She on the other hand, has a fondness for hand painted china with misty roses on it, and whenever I find a piece I know immediately that it would be perfect for her.  And my daughter only had to tell me that she had bought a pretty ceramic swan vase in an op shop in London to start me on the hunt for pieces for her.  I now have quite a selection for when she comes "home" again.  

And since the thrill of the chase is part of the fun (in fact a large part of the fun) when we are scrounging around in markets, op shops and second hand shops, the more people you have to look out for, the better.  Even if you don't find anything which thrills you to the core on your outing, to come home with a treasure for one of your dearest friends or relations is just as good, sometimes even better.  

Next time I hope to have some news about a fabulously successful Art Deco sewing session.  It's always good to have something to work towards, anyway.  

Roll On Sunshine

At last some sunny days in the garden, and a chance to get out there with the bees and rattle some weeds, give them a fright even if not mortally wound them.  Today I spent some happy time putting bags of coffee grounds and compost onto the earth's surface, and  watching the worms writhing about.  I like to think they are in a feverish state of excitement at the prospect of being released from the dark coffee ground bags, but maybe it's just the sudden exposure to light and sunshine after having spent their entire lives in the cool dark coffee grounds which makes them respond so.  (And how they get into the bags in the first place, when they are tied tightly closed, is always a mystery to me as well.  Nowt so clever as these lowly creatures which we like to think have very little in the way of intelligence.)

Early spring time is associated in my mind with intense yellow greens, such as the new growth on oak trees, and these oxalis leaves (this is an ornamental oxalis and not the noxious weed, but just to be on the safe side I'm confining it to pots.  It has lovely bright pink blossoms, another shade associated with early spring in my mind.  

Things in the pink and purple themed garden, though not strictly sticking to their colour scheme, are cooperating very nicely with me at present.  The pelargoniums are always the most obliging and will happily take off from a little piece stuck into the earth, and reward by blooming their hearts out.

I usually resist the urge to buy tulip bulbs, because of the way they need lifting and care if they are going to bloom again next season, but this season I gave in and bought these outlandish frilled pink ones, which I am really pleased with.  Also some which are such a deep purple as to be almost black, very exotic and worth spending a bit of loose change on. 

I had to have a few ranunculus and the pure white colour of these ones combined with the startling yellow of the central sepals always makes me pause for closer inspection. 

As well as the hundreds of blue bluebells, the pink shaded ones are clumping up nicely with time and multiplying every bit as keenly as the blue, which is something of a surprise as the "original" variety usually seems to be the most vigorous form.  

The tulips seem to be emerging and blooming at varied rates, which is good because it extends the season of enjoyment.  This pot is still getting ready to flower and some are almost past their best already.

Indoors things are looking rather sad and dusty because the urge to be outdoors has been too strong to resist.  Two things which are very happiness-making though are the charming tea cosy I managed to enviegle out of my dear sister.  Sitting there and admiring it so fulsomely must have been the magic which made her part with it.  I love the way it is lined with silk, and both sides are embroidered rather than just one.  And it has the most cunning little chimney which is also cross stitched, and attached after the rest of the cottage was put together.  What a special adornment for the teapot, I'm afraid my old cosy has been tossed aside and disregarded altogether.  

And here you can see that the front and back of the cost are different from one another too, how wonderful is that?

The other thing which has received attention indoors is the jewellery box Mr Shoestring kindly gave me as a birthday gift.  It is in perfect condition and now houses my art deco weekend "jewels" (mostly from the op shop, but I'm not fussy).  

It is cunningly contrived with four different layers and the individual layers open out so that different pieces can be stored on different levels, what a clever innovation.  It has only taken me five years or so to actually put my treasures in there, but these things take time.  

The other thing which has been pleasing at the cottage lately is this tiny little manicure set in a bakelite case, the most perfect shade of art deco green of course.  As a person whose hands are usually somewhat affected by the rigours of the garden and who isn't particular as to her manicure, this is something I should make more use of but I am content to just look at it and admire it.  Like the jewellery box, it is very cleverly contrived with its hinged lid and little slots inside for the four tiny manicure tools to fit into.  Admirable.  

No matter whether it is your spring, summer, autumn or winter, I hope you are taking time to do some of the things which thrill you and make the days more enjoyable.  I have been working away on a quilt I'm trying to finish, and I suddenly realised I was working on the very same one exactly a year ago with the same aim.  And that I started it about 15 years ago.  It's about the journey, not the destination.  Just as well!  

Winter Time - It Had To Happen I Suppose

We have had such a long warm summer and autumn that it's hard not to feel aggrieved that winter has arrived with a vengeance.  At Shoestring Cottage this morning the bird bath was frozen solid and it was a pretty miserable start to the day.  But the frosty start always means a beautiful sunny day afterwards, fortunately. 

This weekend was a long weekend (Queen's Birthday, even though her actual birthday is in April, go figure) and we were very pleased to see that every single op shop in town was open, a rare occurrence indeed.  What a lot of treasures we found.  This very softly coloured water colour will look pretty in the bathroom beside a slightly similar one I bought a couple of years ago.  The frame was so dirty that it took a while to clean it up, but it's in place now and looking much better for a bit of a polish. 

And this very curiously shaped old tin will be just the thing for putting a stitching project into, for travelling.  (I don't actually stitch while driving, you will be pleased to know, only when a passenger.  Once when in an embroidery shop I overheard a customer enthusing over how much a person could get done while at the traffic lights and idly wondered how many cycles of lights she had stitched through in her time, no doubt to the frustration and annoyance of other motorists.)  I was somewhat perplexed to see that the view of Auckland was on the back of the tin, while the view of Wellington was on the front, a grave error in my opinion, being an Aucklander born and bred.  Though I know The Dancing Queen, who comes from Wellington, would beg to differ, saying that Wellington is The Riviera Of The South.)

This pretty bird cushion (why am I so partial to anything bird themed I cannot fathom, but it seems to be an enduring passion) will be just the thing for the outdoor furniture next spring, which can't be that far off now, surely.  

There were several large plates which will look great on the pink wall.  Actually we have accumulated a collection of them, waiting to be hung, but we need scaffolding to put them up, having reached so high up the wall already.  

This embroidery is on a perfect tablecloth, and it has the most pretty hand tatted edging.  I was going to cut it up for one of my crazy quilts, but I can't bring myself to do it since it is in perfect condition.  It will be useful for the dining table instead.  I am a person who actually rather enjoys ironing and laundering these linens, even the damask table napkins. so it won't be a hardship.  

I particularly liked this one.  I was hoping to find other "days of the week" to complete the set, but had to be content with Church On Sunday.  

These three are to be used as hand towels and I have sewn tags onto each of them so they can easily hang on a hook.  I am embarrassed to admit that I was deconstructing silk ties for a crazy quilt and used the little loops off the back as tags for the the hand towels.  In coordinating shades, naturally.  Getting just a bit too particular, perhaps.  

These artist easel earrings are "clip ons", which I cannot understand anybody ever having worn.  I have tried once or twice and after about half an hour end up with ear lobes painfully throbbing and a powerful headache as well.  Luckily for me, Mr Shoestring is a dab hand at converting clip ons to pierced ear variety and is very obliging about doing so.  I think these would look just the thing at Art Deco weekend for a person who had artistic pretensions, and wore long strings of jet beads and clattering carnelian bracelets, just the sort of individual I plan on being one day next summer in Napier. 

Things in the garden are looking surprisingly cheerful.  Even a few roses blooming, and the pansies are putting on a show. 

In a fit of impatience or optimism I put some sweet pea seeds in a while ago and I'm very surprised to see that they seem to be coping with the colder weather very well, having germinated well and now scrambling up their trellis already.  Maybe in future I will rely on autumn plantings of them, since they (so far) don't object.  

The most gratifying thing this week though was that Madame Canuck, who is becoming quite the talented painter, offered a while ago to "paint out" the people and tractor on an op shop painting I had bought.  I had always detested the tractor and people gathering up stooks, and went so far as to put a picnic hamper in front of that part of the painting, so as to conceal that part of it.  When Madame Canuck took the painting away I didn't dwell on the possibility of a priceless work of art being desecrated, having supreme confidence in her abilities, but I was absolutely thrilled when she returned the painting this weekend.  No trace of humans or machinery, and she had also converted the foreground into a waterway, and put in some trees for good measure.  The whole thing looked so much better, I was very grateful and full of admiration.  

You Can't Always Get What You Want

And still the weather continues to be beautifully warm and sunny, even though we are into the last "official" month of Autumn now.  The cloudscapes behind our beautiful mountain, Te Aroha, have been spectacular and it's tempting to just sit in a comfortable chair and watch them change, some days.

I started off the weekend at Shoestring Cottage with such good intentions but somehow things conspired against me.  A nasty little mouse had found its way inside and within an astonishingly short space of time the kitchen drawer with all my pretty teatowels and tablecloths needed a complete overhaul.  What a long time it took to wash and dry and press everything, when my eye was wistfully travelling to the sewing room where I would much rather be, where all my pretty treasures were close to hand and looking so tempting.

 And then my favourite plate broke.  (To be honest, this was all my own doing because I left it close to the edge of the kitchen bench and it hurled itself off in protest, smashing into many small pieces.)  So I was not feeling my sparkling best, it has to be admitted.

Eventually I did make it into the sewing room though.  This week it seemed particularly difficult to lay my hand on anything useful though.  For instance, quick unpicks.  Where do they all to go?  I can never find one when I need one when I do find one, it seemed to vanish again within a space of minutes.  I need to purchase them in multiples rather than singly.  And tape measure, don't get me started about them.  I found four of them in various parts of the sewing room (while looking for other things) and though I hung them immediately on the special tape measure peg, they no doubt have  crept away by now and secreted themselves among the mounds of doyleys and bits of wool blanket and silk ties which I can somehow never keep in an orderly fashion.  But success was finally mine.  I had been struggling to finish a little cross stitch on natural coloured linen and eventually had to go and buy more thread, because I had lost the original skein although I had many other shades of red.

Now that it is finished, I'm very pleased with it.  I used up small pieces of pink fabric left over from other projects to frame it with, top and bottom.  And a bit of left over chintz from a quilt for the sides, some natural linen also left over from something else, to back it with.    And of course I still have a lot of red hexagons left over from the "Big Red" quilt, so there will be more cross stitching to follow, I'm sure.

The other thing I was determined to press on with this weekend was the quilt I have been meaning to make for the darling grandbaby.  This weekend I got some more rows put onto it and it seems to have become a bit easier, for some reason.

Looking at the fabrics I still have left to use, I can see there seems to be a strong emphasis on chickens, which is my own fancy.  My little grandson would much prefer diggers and trucks, so I may have to make some additions.  I am not the most exact machine piecer and there are a few stars which aren't, ahem, 100% perfect.  I think I might have to do a bit of careful unpicking in one place, it just is a bit too wonky to ignore.  But that will have to wait for another time, when I am feeling strong and my mind isn't focusing on rodents and broken plates.

Outside it's still very pleasant to be scratching around in the earth. 

The geraniums are still in bloom, what obliging and cheerful things they are.  

The bees are loving this camellia.  And also the birds have been paying a lot of visits to it, I think they are perhaps eating the nectar.  It has a beautiful perfume, much to my surprise, and I hope that some of the seedling camellias I have will turn out to be from this plant.  

And this, which I was going to remove because it doesn't fit in with my new pink and purple theme, has been so prolific and still blossoming that I feel I need to let it stay.  The mango seed I was trying to raise seems to have succumbed finally and though its little shoot is still green, no leaves are forming.  This has meant that Mr Shoestring has had to manfully eat his way through three more mangoes so that I can have more stones to try to propagate, but he has been very obliging about it.