The Move

 

The time has come to say good-bye to this space and embrace a new one more reflective of me. This journal that has been a place to share my existence, capture moments of our days; it has kept the memories of my last few years safe. I've shared the wonderful world that is being a Mumma with so many kindred spirits and I sincerely thank you all so very much for your fellowship and kind words. I would love if you would come and become a follower at my new space, this brown wren and share my adventure.

 

Much love,

Steph x





Market Day

Some final snipping and pinning. A whisker of twine and some brown paper bags. The car is loaded and I am ready for what might be my last Mathilda's Market as mon petit poppet. This marketeering gig has been such a remarkable ride. It has paid for our  fence...and my new found yarn addiction and has kept this stay home Mumma busy and rewarded.

But as I have changed, so has my aesthetic and although the Frenchy fabrics I once fell head over heels for are still beautiful and timeless they no longer speak to me as they once did.  My designs are evolving and in a bid to enter next year with a shiny new slate I am marking down everything in the hope it all goes.  Thank-you so very much for your support over the last few years. I am truly humbled by those who have purchased my wares and am so very thankful for not only the modest income you have provided me but the tremendous sense of achievement that has gone hand in hand.

So to market to market I go....

Steph x

A New Toy

There was a time not that many sleeps ago that I thought that all wool was created equal. Gaudy balls of raspy fibres lining the fluorescent lit aisles of Big W.  Knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one...drop a stitch...poke concentration tongue out harder in a last ditch effort to save said stitch....pitch the whole lurid creation at the floor and stomp off huffily. Deflated, with nerves all prickly and raw. Scraggy, coarse yarn repelling all touch.

My former self would no doubt be intimidated by the girl I have become. Time and a whole lot of practice, tedious knitting and re-knitting, and casting the net far and wide in search of answers to my often simple minded questions has finally made the penny drop. The code is no longer fuzzy nor does it send my synapses into paralysis. The gentle, rhythmic motion now relaxes my day weary body and nourishes my soul. I have become a knitter.

I believe that all new growth after much toil should be rewarded and so a gleaming new swift and ball winder has become my very own. Those twisty skeins of yarn I so long admired yet was too scared to ask what they were and how could I possibly get them onto needles can now with an effervescent turn of the handle become perfect balls. It is also a family affair that elicits much laughter!

Pale blue pima cotton transformed ready for Mumma's needles. A wee summer vest for my blue girl I daresay. Knit one, purl one, knit one.......

Joining this wonderful community today.

Steph x

52

 

 

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week."

 

 



Bijou: This bunny hops off to kindy next year. I'm so excited for her but in quiet times my heart aches.
Remy: The setting sun cast a golden glow across the room. The abstract shadows were irresistable to this little man.

Always inspired by this Mumma.

Steph x

52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week."

 



Bijou: All wispy haired and banana smoothie drinking....I adore this little lady.
Remy: Dropping pegs over the side of the washing trolley and watching where they land...for ages!

Joining in with this lovely soul  today.

Steph  x

P.S. Thanks for all your "blog moving" tips.....change is imminent my friends! Weeeeeee!