tiny happy

monday

It's Monday again- how does it arrive again so quickly after Friday?

Today we're:

::reading:: 'The Little Wood Duck' by Brian Wildsmith - beautiful illustrations and story

::listening:: to Damon Albarn's The Good, The Bad and The Queen and enjoying the break away from my usual American-alt-folk diet

::eating:: another late-summer-staple: homemade tomato sauce on pasta, tomatoes grown by my sister Tamsin, and cooked up by Tom

::working on:: an ambitious amount of sewing, all in preparation for next weekend's Craft 2.0. This blog might be a little neglected over the next week, but I'll be sure to post pictures of my progress as I go.... wish me luck...

the local

Today was my neice's birthday, and some of our extended family celebrated with lunch and chocolate cake in the park near to our house. It was a beautiful warm afternoon complete with screeching cicadas in the trees overhead, and bold sunlight filtering through onto the grass.

As we were eating our lunch, some men were carrying stacks of chairs with a sound system and a table, and setting these alongside us. I assumed it was the nearby rest home's weekly picnic in the park, which I've often walked past on a Friday lunchtime in the same spot. It comprises of a large circle of plastic deck chairs, and eldery people eating sandwiches and pies from paper plates.

But as more and more well-dressed people arrived over the rickity bridge and a flautist began to play, we realised we were sitting where a wedding was about to take place.

We left before the bride arrived, luckily, but if K hadn't needed to go home for her nap I would have been tempted to stay and be an onlooker (can you be a wedding crasher if it's in a public place?) and I wouldn't have been alone. A small group of lunchtime park-dwellers was gathered around the periphery already. There's just something magnetic about a simple wedding, isn't there? That vague excitement of milling around, waiting for the bride to arrive.

The tree under which the wedding took place is 'our' tree; one A and K play around and on, every time we we walk through this park. It's a Giant Redwood, and according to the plaque beneath it, planted by a relative of mine in 1951. I like to think that at the planting ceremony my grandmother might have been there, pregnant with my father (he was born at the end of this year.) I remember having picnics as a child under the tree, sometimes fish and chips on a summer evening, batting away the sandflies, my first outdoor Shakespeare play was right here when I was about 13, and later as a teenager friends and I discovered the excitement of drinking for the first time, it would be a good, dark pre-party meeting spot. And now I play games with A and K, running around and around the tree so they can't catch up and think I have disappeared completely. 

This afternoon I was struck by the beauty of the local, of the familiar, and of the ties that we as humans form to places in our lives. Most of my school-friends have moved away to bigger cities and bright careers, and maybe someday we will move away again too, but for now I am happy to be here, where I feel connected to a longer story, and enjoy the attachment I have to this place.

   

corners of my home

Inspired by the honesty of Meg's post on those 'other corners' of her home, I thought I would give you a little glimpse into a corner of my home. This is the view as you look into my 'craft room':

Yeah. This overflowing fabric cupboard was brought to you by a) two preschoolers with a penchant for making beds from my fabric in an attempt to distract me away from the computer in the same room and b) my inability to throw anything made from fabric away. Ever. Because I could use it for something, right?

The saddest thing is that the other half part of this room is Tom's study and work-space, and his walls are beginning to cave in on him. I'll do something about it soon.

In a vain attempt to use up some of the fabric scraps I can't throw away, I made a couple of baby bibs (awaiting their velcro closure) for some friends, which quickly multiplied to a few sets of them for my craft stall. They're all made from vintage cotton (some linen) with flannel backing.

to fit about 0-6 months

to fit about one to three-year-olds

And for a picture of a nice-looking studio/craft room, check out Helen's.

vintage patterns to give away

I changed around some of my links today, which makes me feel quite well-organised, which is far from the truth. There are now more blogs on the right that I have been haunting lately. And speaking of links, I can't believe it's taken me so long to find the NYC fashion site The Sartorialist. While I'm not really a follower of fashion, it does fascinate me, and this site allows me to indulge in my people-watching instincts. Especially people in big cities.

Another great one is the Finnish fashion site Hel-looks which I first visited after Helen wrote about it a while back. And then there is Japanese Streets for more great style, and what about this 12-year-old (12!) is living in Finland, but is so inspired by the Japanese style? I am yet to see a New Zealand teenager dress so creatively. Especially in my town.

I was given these two big boxes of 1970's dressmaking patterns the other day, from the woman who runs a retro/antique shop in town:

capes and kaftans gone- thanks Esther!

The patterns consist of cards, with step-by-step directions on how to make the clothes:

accompanied by the paper patterns for each card in an envelope. There are patterns for:

a variety of shirt-dresses gone- thanks Melisa, and pants with matching tops gone, thanks Jo

blouse and skirt patterns, and some very 70's-style children's clothes, gone to heidi, thanks

and some fitted women's jackets and a selection of men's tops. all taken, thank you!

While I love these patterns, I have so many- more than I will ever use probably- so I was wondering if anyone out there in blog-world would like these? As far as I know, the patterns are complete, although i haven't checked them all. Let me know (comment or email) if you would like any (or all!) of these and I'll post them to you, wherever you happen to live. Happy sewing...

that late summer feeling

I found this linen fabric the other day - two old curtains' worth- and I love it so much but can't decide whether to keep as curtains or chop it up for other things. What do you think?

The colours and design express so well this late summertime we're having  :: deafening cicada song :: bees and flies and monarch butterflies :: jam on the windowsill :: long evenings with the sun reaching through to the table at dinnertime :: capsicum, zucchini, tomatoes and eggplants :: restless children trying to sleep in the heat :: trees laden with pears and wasps dancing around :: caterpillar coccoon on the swan plant at kindergarten, and explaining to arlo about insect life and death ::

   

a green skirt

This morning was one of building huts from cushions, chairs and various household linens. A and K loved it, and got right into the mood by pretending they were camping on a boat, then in a forest, and then at a campground that, strangely, ran a 'room service' type of deal where they yelled 'crackers!' or 'dried fruit!' and then their faithful waiter would deliver their plates under the sheet 'door.'

It was a busy job but I had time to sew a new skirt at the table next to them. Actually, most of the skirt had been made many months ago, but I had abandoned the project after realising it was too small. (Funnily enough, I thought I was much smaller in the waistline than I really was. Hmm, perhaps a person can't get away with eating as much chocolate as she pleases, after all.) In any case, the problem was easy to fix by unpicking the darts in the top of the skirt. After adding a zip and hem, it was done!

I used Simplicity #9199 (style E, shortened) and my favourite green barkcloth discovered at the Recycling Centre a while ago. It was two dusty old curtains, which cost me a couple of dollars, but after a long stint on the washing line, is as good as new. Well maybe not new, since I noticed the date in the selvedge was 1918. Seriously! So perhaps this is more of an 'antique' than anything...

Hope you had a lovely weekend.

the trip

I made these little i-pod cases at the special request of two friends who have newly acquired one of these nifty little gadgets. I'd never seen an i-pod before so Tom printed out a little cardboard make-it-yourself version from the internet so I could make sure the cases are the right size.

I made them a little bigger than the i-pod so they could also store the cord and headphones in there too. I made the little button-loops from plaited embroidery floss. They were a super-easy and quick project, but I think if i had a non-cardboard i-pod of my own, I might order one of these felted covers made by Kimberlee over at  anemone crafts. Very sweet.

Have you seen the work of Ezra Jack Keats before? Arlo and I are in love with our copy of The Snowy Day, but yesterday I found his book 'The Trip.' Both the story and illustrations (especially the way in which painting techniques are combined with pieces of photo collage i.e. sky-scrapers, children's faces, etc.) are beautiful, and it's a book that I think will stay in my heart for a long time. And hopefully in the childrens', too.

Clearly, our next crafting project will have to be a peep-show from an old shoe-box.

jam on toast

It's impossible for me to go through February without making at least one batch of plum jam. At home when I was growing up, there were quite a few old plum trees that would be dripping with fruit all summer, and by the end of February it was mandatory to make jam, as well as preserve them in Agee jars, make plum chutney and plum sauce. The job of preserving all the fruit would be surrounded in drama. It was usually at the hottest time of summer, with flies buzzing and cicadas screeching, boxes of dusty old jars stacked and waiting in the porch, frantic trips to the store for more seals, sticky fruit syrup splodges all over the kitchen floor and countless children, dogs and cats running through the chaos until Mum ordered to us sit quietly and watch a video for an hour or so.

But then, the joy of seeing the bottles of fruit lined up in the dark store-room: apricots, plums, peaches and pears, stacked neatly alongside each other and ready for the year ahead.

Last week my sister Tamsin brought me a bag of Mum and Dad's plums after a trip there, so I had to make a few jars. I think the nicest thing about the job, aside from the gorgeous sweet smell that fills the house as they are stewing in the pot, is trying very hard to save a jar for the coldest part of winter. Opening the jar and spreading on warm scones in July always fills me with a somewhat smug feeling that winter is not so long when one has preserves in the pantry, and that spring will come again.

Plum Jam

2 kgs plums, halved and stoned

1 1/2 cups water

7 cups sugar

Put plums and water into a big preserving pot. Boil until soft and nearly pulpy (depends how lumpy you like your jam to be.) Add the sugar, and stir until dissolved. Boil briskly for 20 mins or until setting point is reached then pour into sterilised jars. Makes about 5-6 medium jars.

helen's dresses

There's something about a vintage baby dress. I'm starting to get quite a collection now, so I was thinking last night about why I like them so much. So often they are completely different in style to anything new you might find in a clothing store. And more often than not they're handmade, evoking the spirit of home-made clothes as necessity, of a nesting new mother, or an expectant grandmother. Or perhaps they were made for a special purpose- for church, or to attend a wedding or party. I love dressing Keira in these finds, because they spark my imagination and connect us to a longer chain of babies and mothers before us.

I was looking for a lost book the other day, when I came across a bag of baby clothes I had stored under my bed sometime last year. Amongst some too-big children's clothes I put in there, waiting for the next season, I found two dresses sent for Keira by Helen. I am so glad I found them because, after some frenzied trying-on and dancing around in them, Keira and I decided they were just the perfect fit.

Now, in case you're unaware, Helen sends the *best* surprise parcels. We've been doing the odd swap for more than a year now, and I'm always so excited when a box from her arrives. She loves to op-shop, so she usually sends lovely vintage fabric and craft supplies for me, as well as books, toys and her own artwork. But I think the last four baby dresses she sent us are my favourite yet.

Here they are:

Hand-sewn and embroidered orange linen pinafore

Little hippie dress with frogs on it, made in India

Brown and pink cotton pinafore

A new set made by Helen's Mum, from vintage green bug and butterfly fabric. A smock top (edged in orange ric-rac) and matching bloomers- just perfect.