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.