Winter Finally Arrives - It Had To Happen Some Time

One of the joys of life in a small provincial town is the stories which dominate the news.  As soon as we arrive at Shoestring Cottage Mr Shoestring scours the local newspaper eagerly to see what he has missed out on this week, while earning a crust in The Big Smoke.  The lead story in our local "rag" this week was that a cow had given birth to triplets, and all of them were heifers so the dairy herd would be increased by three instead of one (or possibly none at all if they were bobby calves).  At least it has got to be more encouraging than reading about robberies, burglaries or assaults.

We are suffering the effects of an icy blast and so it was perfect timing that the gas fire was finally installed this weekend.  It still needs to have some sort of surround made for it, but the effect of the flickering flames is very warming and cosy and I crouched over it like some morose tropical bird who had been brought to colder climes this weekend.  The older I get the more I crave warmth and sun, and when I looked around the garden was very saddened to see that nothing almost was blooming apart from a few early white hyacinths (the result of some frenzied planting when first I hit upon the idea of a white garden) and some primulas.

Most things hibernating though one of the lilies was sending forth shoots and Mr Shoestring eventually became tired of being shown the green spikes of new growth and being asked to predict how many blossoms might be expected this summer.

At the monthly market in Matamata I had to give in and buy some pansies luscious purple and yellow, just to cheer the place up a bit.  I love the way their faces are all slightly different with differing amounts of black, yellow and purple.

And I decided to give precious cupboard space to this ridiculously sentimental plate with the lady and gentleman in their powdered wigs, deep in conversation.  I suspect the gentleman is making romantic advances to the lady but being hopelessly unromantic myeslf,

I began to wonder what he might be whispering in his good lady's ear.  I suspect he was saying something along the lines of, "Oh no, it's those ghastly people we met last month at Lady Ramsbottom's soiree.  Just look behind me, where I am indicating with my right hand thumb and index finger, but for goodness' sake don't let them catch your eye or they will attempt to engage us in conversation!"  The lady is a very haughty looking minx, I don't think she would be pleased to make conversation with the newcomers either.  

Though these plates are ridiculously sentimental the colours and scenes are so pretty with their gold surrounds, I would like to build up enough of them to make a whole dining table full and have a luscious pastel dinner party one day.  I remembered I had this one already in the cupboard, which is slightly smaller, and now that my interest was roused I had to have a closer look and try to guess what this gentleman might be saying.

He seems to be dusting off the lady's armpit with a heart encrusted handkerchief, and she is blushing mightily.  (So is he, now I look at him closely.)  Most curious behaviour.  I wish I hadn't hung so many similar plates around the garden, I could use them now to boost up the numbers in my new collection.  

The cross stitch is coming along for some new cushions on the bed, but I must say it is very slow going.  I like the natural coloured Irish linen 

but it is hideously expensive and I think I shall need to put in some pieces embroidered on cheaper fabric.  Lo and behold my mum gave me an enormous piece of cream cloth from her local op shop which will fill the bill nicely.  

I have to admit that I was nonplussed to begin with, how would I ever use such an enormous piece of fabric, but now I think it could look very pretty as a curtain if it had lots of cross stitched motifs on it.  Definitely too good to pass up, anyway.  

The weave is perfect for cross stitch.  (I suspect that there are a lot of keen stitchers, knitters and  crotcheters out there who rather than be endlessly confronted by the proof of occasions where their ambitions outreached their time/ability/interest, will furtively hie themselves off to the local op shop and get rid of the evidence.  It is the only reason I can think of for there being so many bargains to be had from time to time!) 

And speaking of our ambitions outreaching our time, I found these little hexies which I prepared for a new quilt with a chicken and egg theme.  

I can just picture them, each "feature" chicken being surrounded by "fussy cut" hexagons creating gorgeous geometrical patterns which will all blend in together.  But first I have to complete some other projects, the second hand rose crazy quilt, the doilies and damask one and all the others stored in various nooks and crannies in the sewing room.  I sadly put away my hexagons and will try my best to resist their alluring call.  

Glenn Miller Via Roy Orbison and Elvis!

 

Well hello possums!  I must apologise for my lack of posts in recent times.  Mr Shoestring and I have been preoccupied with the installation of our "new" gas fire which Mr Shoestring rashly purchased second hand on TradeMe, only to discover it needed extensive refurbishments in order to be legally installed.  This weekend he spent most of his time up on the roof (and you know how he hates heights, the poor thing) trying to install the flue which he has laboriously modified to make it fit the old chimney space.  He eventually informed me that he had lost one glove, two screwdrivers, a level and a hammer.  He seemed to take a certain grim pleasure in retelling the loss of all these items which apparently have fallen down the chimney and can never be recovered.  He also broke three angle cutting blades (whatever they might be) and ripped his overalls.  Well, you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs and no doubt you can't install a new fireplace without losing most of your tools - c'est la vie!

It has not all been toil though.  A couple of weekends ago we went once more to the local RSA on Saturday night to see "Roy Orbison" and "Elvis" and to dance our socks off.  Last time we sallied forth to this hallowed venue we were approached by a woman who enquired, "You're not from around here, are you?" after we had danced a particularly vigorous swing set.  This time a venerable gentleman told us we had put on a great floor show (I am not sure whether this was supposed to be a compliment but chose to take it as such), and after that whenever we sat down he would express his surprise not to see us dancing, as he thought this would be "just your kind of tune".

Then last weekend we came back to Auckland early to meet up with Senor and Senora Valentino and watch The Glenn Miller Band perform.  What a treat that was.  As well as the band we were treated to performances by The Swing Kittens (think of The Andrews Sisters) and a troupe of swing dancers.  Beforehand though, Senora Valentino and myself were treated to the expert ministrations of Rose from Decadia Vintage who transformed us.  Senora Valentino who usually sports a sleek asymmetric bob ended up with curly locks (which suited her very well) and I was thrilled with my victory rolls.  We both had scarlet lips, of course, which was a great responsibility - the retouching, you understand.  The other members of the audience looked rather startled as we arrived (attired in the best we could do for 1940s costume of course), but we were absolutely delighted with our glamorous appearance and afterwards went out for a little swing dancing.  (Only a very little for me because Mr Shoestring becomes petrified in the presence of expert dancers and his limbs seize up completely.  He did manage one dance though.  Senor Valentino being a more confident dancer rarely sits down.)

This weekend the weather was very fine and in between swearing and cursing up on the roof Mr Shoestring descended for a walk around the wetlands, where we were charmed to see the bare trees full of abandoned nests.  I wonder whether the same birds come back year after year to use their nests again, or if the nests are taken over by other birds (but of the same species one would presume), who recycle them.

One particularly voluble fantail seemed to be following us.  It is tempting to think they do this because they are companionable and genial, but (disappointingly) it is apparently because they want to catch all the tiny insects we disturb as we clumsily lurch over the surface of the earth.  Sigh.

We noticed this butterfly feasting on nectar in the sunshine.  Obviously some Monarch butterflies must overwinter but it is always surprising to see them in the middle of winter.

In the garden some bromeliads are flowering (still, or already?), some with blue/pink blossoms and some with a more shrimp-like shade.

I was pleased to see the first of the hyacinths, and the primulas about to follow suit.

The Dancing Queen came for a visit recently and I was enchanted by this little pansy plate she gave me.  This weekend I realised my next crazy quilt must be a pansy themed one - how had it not occurred to me before?  My favourite flower, and I have been neglecting it entirely in my crazy quilting!  I can't wait to get started, but first of course the other two must be finished.  It will have a small black silk piece in the centre of each block with vibrant orange/purple/yellow/pink and other assorted jewel shades around the outside.  That is the plan so far, but of course these things change.  Good to have a plan though.

Dreary Days

 

Winter has arrived, we had rain most of the weekend and even the cats were reluctant to go outside.  Poor Mr Shoestring had to toil away in the garden when it was dry because he had rashly carried out a radical cut back in the garden last week and had to take away all the tree limbs and greenery he had lopped.

I was bowled over because my mum had given me a second piece of Te Aroha souvenir china, which she found in her local opp shop.  (How is it she has found two pieces while I have never seen any?)  This piece has pretty yellow and white blossoms around the central decorative motif and was made in Germany.  It must be very old because only two buildings are visible, and the rotunda in the foreground is in a different position to the current one.  I was surprised to see that the "New Sanatorium" was supposedly in Te Aroha (Auckland), but then realised that this must refer to the province of Auckland, in those days when New Zealand was divided into provinces which were fiercely parochial.  I suspect that residents of Te Aroha would be offended if they were considered to be a part of Auckland now!

So now that I have two pieces of Te Aroha souvenir china I feel yet another collection coming on - very vexing as I am trying to cut back on these collections which mysteriously worm their way into Shoestring Cottage.

Last weekend we took our new little Fig over to the monthly Matamata markets and I was unable to resist these pieces of embroidery.

This Scotty dog has been very carefully embroidered by some unknown person and I love the way s/he lost interest before they completed the little skein of smoke coming from the chimney in the top right hand corner - I can understand how that last little detail would not be quite so enthralling after conscientiously toiling away on the rest of the piece.

At the other end of the runner is this scene - the Scotties complete with a thistle of course - and no incomplete embroidery.  This end was probably stitched first.

They set off my collection of scruffy and disreputable terriers so well!

From the same stall holder I got this most curious hand towel which seems to depict some sort of disgruntled fairy offended by the appearance of nearby flowers, or at least that is all I can make of this vibrant  embroidery - and look at how the colours of the flowers on either side have been transposed!  Such attention to detail.

Also these two pretty embroideries which will go into the latest crazy quilt - I am sure they were completed by the same embroiderer, the colours are identical.

A little further along my favourite stallholder had this amazing metal bowl, which will nicely hold the wools for this canvas work  

which is coming along very slowly and is doing my head in with all the colour changes.  Every few stitches demands a change of wool and I was ready to throw it out the window and into the rain this weekend, but persisted with it because otherwise how will I use up all those left over wools I was given?  

Mr Shoestring has developed a passion for red onions.  Every time he has to go to the shop for anything he comes back with yet another bag of them, "In case we have run out", and to keep up with them all I found a recipe for red onion soup.  (You can't just substitute them for ordinary brown onions in all recipes because they can discolour the dish.)  It is very piquant and tasty with the addition of some balsamic vinegar and as it uses eight onions, well worth trying out if you have a glut on your hands.  Just the thing for warding off coughs and colds in this horrible weather, give it a try if you aren't going to be closely confined with your fellow citizens in the next day or two.  Definitely not for those who are attempting long haul air flights though.

  

Apart from that, more quilting on the tumbling blocks quilt - another very slow project.  Roll on spring time!