Looking back ---- Looking forward

Four days to the end of the year - only four days. I keep a list of my projects - mostly so I don't forget something, and this morning, I checked it because I had to add a quilt project. When I did, I realized that I haven't finished anything since August. Now that might not seem like much to you, but last year I finished almost twenty projects. Admittedly, some were small, but a lot weren't. This year - three. Yup, count 'em - three. That's as in more than two, less than four - or, "a few".

Now, by definition, a few is not a lot. A few is only one more than a couple. At this rate, I'll need to live to about 100 just to keep up, and although I'm banking on 95, I concede that the last few years may not be as productive.

Why? (Thank you for asking.) Well, it could be a) the move to the prairies, b) the new job that went along with the move to the prairies, c) the new house that went along with the new job and the move to the prairies, d) the new husband, who is the cause of the new job and the new house and the move to the prairies, e) missing my daughter, who did not make the move to the prairies, f) the lack of a sewing room that is the result of the new husband and the new job and the new house and the move to the prairies or g) the renovations of the ...... (you get it.)

We are awash in dust. We are awash in gyprock dust which is even worse. There was chicken wire in the walls. It has taken much longer than I expected, cost more (which to be honest, I did expect) and completely disrupted my life, which I also expected, but did not realize how much it would upset me. I would post pictures, but I have no camera - somehow it got packed away. I don't even remember where "packed away" is.

I have managed to knit - but that's because it's small, does not need a machine or much space. Someone once asked why I did both, since the last thing anyone needs is two stashes. My reply was that quilting was my artistic outlet, knitting was my comfort outlet - and boy, have I craved comfort.

Daylight is coming. I have paint on the walls, new kitchen cabinets and 75% of a floor. There is less dust. Tonight I will break out the machine - my trusty 1949 Singer and begin work on a quilt for my daughter's new boyfriend. It's simple, but it will be warm, and like all quilts, it will tell its own story by the time its finished.

And I promise to post. Not that I have that much to say, but if I don't say it, who will?

Learning how to post photos

I am learning how to post photos, and wouldn't you know it, the first photo I've posted is not a quilt - it's a sock. It's not so much that I knit more than I quilt (although some days I do), but because the Mad Australian Shepherd and I are only now learning about digital cameras. He knows that I am good and fast with my Nikon, but it's not digital, and although it continues to be the camera du chois, it's not so good for this. Bear with me. I am learning, albeit slowly. Okay, so the first isn't even a sock. I told you, I'm learning.


This is a picture of the Mad Australian Shepherd. As you can see, he's a handsome boy, although, as I said, mad.

This is the sock.


Earlier this summer, Pickupsticks asked customers to try their hands at designing socks. The September yarn was Fleece Artist, which I happened to have in my stash, and this is the result - or rather, one of the results. The two socks of the pair are a tiny bit different, but when I wear them, no-one notices. I put that down to the fact that few people I knew really look at anyone's feet past the point where they go, "Oh, you have blue toes!"

I discovered I enjoyed designing socks. (I also discovered it's much easier to knit in the van on a cross-country, cross-border drive than to quilt.) This sock wasn't selected by Connie for her club, so I thought I might post the pattern later for everyone to enjoy.

On the trusty Singer right now, a wedding quilt. Blue and brown batiks for Jaclyn and Eric. Only a few years late. On the needles, one of my sock experiments in Louet Gems.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of us in Canada, on a rainy prairie fall day - a good day to be indoors.

End of a very long month

The Mad Australian Shepherd and I are grieving the passing of my wonderful and Beloved Border Collie. The Boy (the MAS) is four - the BBC was twelve when the Boy came home as a pup. At the time I thought maybe one more year for my wonderful BBC - one more year to teach the ball of fuzz some manners and a little bit about how to be a proper quilting dog. "You better get that butt of yours on the ground if you want a treat" was easy - I could almost see the pup looking up at the older dog, asking what it was he should do to get the magic food. A little harder was the proper place below the sewing table - near enough to be close, not so near as to interfere. To his last day, the BBC refused to cede his place of honour as the dog closest to the machine - the dog in line with the iron. It's barely a week since he made his way to the Rainbow Bridge, and already, the Mad Australian Shepherd has taken his place. I don't know how they do it - nor for that matter do I know if they really know what they're doing- it's quite possible I'm reading everything into behaviour that isn't there - but I like to think the young Boy misses my Old Boy as much as I do. Sewing won't be the same for a while, so I'm busying myself with the work of setting up my design company and finishing up a few patterns.

And I'm learning how to post photos. That's next.

I must go. The Boy needs his walk. And I need to lose a little of this heavy heart in the rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other until I find myself back where I belonged.

A Life full of making things

I know this blog seems to be about quilting, but it's really about a life full of making things. I grew up as a knitter. My Amma taught me how to knit when I was five or six; my mother taught me how to sew when I was a little older. The only days I don't do one or both are the ones where my day job (and I have a great day job) takes too much time. This is my story of giving myself permission to live a creative life.

Summer Sewing

Here on the prairies we are in the middle of the kind of heat wave that is supposed to hit only the Ottawa Valley. It is hot and humid and hot and humid .... is this global warming? Promise, I don't remember this from being a kid. I came here expecting hot, dry summers, with endless skies and those high fluffy white cloud that only tease of rain and never deliver. (You know what they say about it being a dry cold? It's also supposed to be a dry heat!! Could we do something about this, please?) This is Valley Soup - where you can walk outside and feel the air, and where it is impossible to see the trees on the horizon.

And that means it's time to head down to the basement studio (okay, bedroom) and sew. It's cool in the basement, and it gives me some time in the morning before I head off to work to collect my thoughts and plan my day. When I use this old machine I think of how I connect to all those other women who also sew and who sewed before me, and I think of women all over the world who use their hands to make beautiful things. You know what? I think we're going to change the world.

Do Dogs See Colour?

I'm told that dogs don't see colour. I believe that - why would they (whoever they are) tell us it was so if it wasn't. I'm told dogs see only in black and white, which I assume includes greys. If that's the case, why does the Mad Australian Shepherd like the colourful quilts?

I'm working up a few quick lap quilts for Victoria's Quilts Canada. One is a bit on the dull side, the other a beauty of batiks. So ask yourself - which one do you think the MAS (see above) wants to lay on while he's visiting in the bedroom I call a studio (a quilter's reach should exceed her grasp ..... )? You got it. He likes the bright one, actually walks into the room and looks around to see just where it is he can get most in the way.

He has a lot to learn, my boy. He's following in the footsteps of the Beloved Border Collie, and all I ever had to do with him is give him ":that look" and he would back away from the quilt top. The MAS has a way to go.

Greetings

Yesterday evening I was in my usual spot, seated at my trusty 1949 Singer, making place mats, because somehow, after moving half way across the country, I can't find any of the several hundred thousand I thought I had. I have my sewing room set up in the basement (not my choice, but it's the only space available right now), and it was only a matter of minutes before I heard the sound I knew was coming. Nails on stair tread. Specifically, dog nails on stair tread. Even more specifically, the sound of the Mad Australian Shepherd's nails on stair tread.

I think it's the sewing machine. He hears "that sound" and knows I am there for a while, and he can camp at my feet and pretend he's not in the way. He can shed hair on the floor (ask me how often I vacuum) and he can find the absolutely perfect place, the one that is directly in line with the ironing board and that requires me either to step over him or step on him. Apparently, both are huge signs of affection. The Mad Australian Shepherd knows that quilting cannot take place without his keeping me company. I'm beginning to enjoy his.