Monday, July 30, 2012

The Circus


Yellow and red against a vivid blue sky. The big top.


Crispy batter drenched in tomato sauce. So wrong...yet oh so right! We go back for seconds.


Trampled grass, mud, the smell of horses...a little person at my knee bubbling with excitement, a fuzzy haired babe on my hip, my beloved's hand in mine.

Acts of strength, of balance, of magic. I shake my head constantly in disbelief and in an instance I tumble back through memories to my own childhood.

The tight rope, the trapeze, the clowns, the ringmaster.... the fairy floss!


Eyes wide, drinking it all in. The circus.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Her Pajama Bag


We have been embracing a new rhythm to our day. Now that the time the sun lights our yard is shorter, afternoons spent frolicking outdoors in the garden bare footed are but Spring time memories. 


Inside we potter around the kitchen watching large cast iron pots glub and plop their way to nourishing and warming Winter fare. Steamed puddings clank away on the stove patiently awaiting their unveiling and secretly revelling in the sticky jammy finale they have hidden beneath all that spongy heaven.


Snippets of paper, fabric, glue and glitter covering the table. Puzzles are strewn over the floor. He babbles in his new way and we smile often. Early baths are welcome.
Dinner is a family affair...everyone helps prepare, everyone eats, everyone helps to clean up.  Lights are dimmed. A candle is lit to symbolise the beginning of what we call "slowing down" time.


Stories are read.  A milky cuddle for the little man. The candle is blown out. The blanket show follows soon after.

In an attempt to simplify our days I created a pajama bag for Bijou that we pack with her pjs each morning along with three picture books to read that evening. Come bath time, the bag is slung over the bathroom door and Bijou can dress herself and set up the lounge for stories. Such a simple gesture...such a wonderful help for the night time transition.

I used some vintage fabric and a delightful bag pattern from my favourite fabric shop, "The Quilters Corner". It has a really wide opening just perfect for a little person to access by themselves.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Tucker Time


I'm sure I make it pretty obvious that I am besotted with my wee kidlets and adore being a stay at home Mumma. Unfortunately this positive energy I'm sending out into the universe has not created me a force field saving me from the regular battles we all face in this raising children biz. Such as the "I'm going to flit from the stairs to the mail box, to the dandelions I simply must pick, to the gravel on the driveway that I'll hurl at the road even though I've been told umpteen million times not to, to the little nook below my car seat where I'll reef off my shoes that Mumma spent the last ten minutes wrangling me into, to finally the car seat where an exhausted Mumma loses all patience and heaves me into said seat and attempts to strap my contorting body in and wonders why she bothered to do her hair this morning such is the bird's nest  it has become after such a tussle."


And then there's the "I'm going to prance around in nought but my taffeta ballerina costume as the temperature drops and the wind howls flashing the neighbours with my bare behind as I jump ever so exuberantly on my trampoline. The trampoline that I will refuse to get off when it's time to come inside and deftly manoeuvre myself to the far side so Mumma is forced to climb on to retrieve me.... again with the contorting body. Oh and Mumma sooo loves when the elderly lady next door watches this whole series of shenanigans unfurl and then smiles that, "children in my day" smile."


But thankfully, we have never had to deal with the "food" battle. From the day dot Bijou ate...and ate...and then she ate some more! She will try anything and greedily consumes all that's placed before her with gusto.


Well it appears the little man is gonna be exactly the same. No way known could I have experimented with the baby led feeding where you give your poppets finger food only. He simply could not get it into his belly quick enough. He needs a shovel that delicate little love of mine!


Oh yes he's smiling now! Cause his belly is full. Ten minutes before...the tears were a'rollin.

Some new bibs for Monsieur Remoulade as he enjoys tucker time. I used some old kokka double gauze I had in my stash and some vintage chenille for the back. The bib pattern from Lotta Jansdotter's Simple Sewing for Baby was the perfect shape. I just added a seam allowance, sewed the fabrics right side together leaving a turning gap and then turned them right way out and top stitched all around. A little press stud and we're off and ....eating!
Joining in with all this crafty wonder.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Seeds


As I look out the window right at this moment...the sky is grey. Dark slately grey. Soft rain falls from the clouds and I can no longer see the city such is the haze it is enveloped in. My body is wrapped in soft wool and my feet are clad in slippers that have seen one too many Winters. My hands clasp the first of many cups of tea today. Winter.


But amidst all this hibernation, this warming, this staying indoors...there is the whisper of Spring.

Heirloom tomatoes gratefully accepted and then greedily consumed have left a little bounty of tiny flecks of life. Seeds.

Ruby red in a glass jar. Left on the window sill til hidden under a mossy coverlet. The more rigid outer casing now easily washed away and set to dry.  Now you must wait little ones. Wait for the sun.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Addiction


I. Can. Not. Put. It. Down!


The amazing hand painted Japanese yarn made from a mixture of silk, kid mohair and lamb's wool...


The clever pattern that looks trés tricky but is actually a snap...


The way each new nubbly silken row unveils a different vivid colour....


So random...so organic. No obvious pattern to the colours....no control. A project forcing me to just go with the flow.

Just where I need to be today.

Wishing you cups of teas aplenty my lovelies over this wintry weekend.

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