Mid-morning flurry

Mid-morning furry

It is an old National Geographic map of the British Isles, printed in 1974.

A Traveler’s Map, eh? OK.

I mapped my travels.

These pushpins mark the trip I took around England (with a brief but memorable nip into Scotland) in September 2007. Though it is several years later, and though all my dearest friends will attest that I have a shocking memory, I remember much of this trip with amazing clarity and in detail.

It was one of those things that happen once in a lifetime, shaping who you are and how you are a person. I learned more about myself in that short 12-day trip than I have in any similar time period of my life. It was a time of awakening, realizations, new awarenesses, and an endless experience of Thin Places.

During this year of 2012, I’m planning to write a few posts to remember and celebrate some of the incredible things that happened during that adventure.

One of the first will focus here:

Particularly on the charming town of Ely and a memorable afternoon tea two lovely ladies and I shared at the Peacocks Tearoom.

Want to know more about Thin Places?  More here.

Happy weekend to all!

Christmas decorations came down yesterday.  The familiar pictures are back and hanging in their usual places on the walls. After I’d put away the birds and berries and baubles, the house looked clean but felt empty. I did a little, too. So I created this tiny glowing garden to celebrate the new-turned year and to remind myself of the growth, rebirth, and promise of the coming spring.

This is a postcard that was framed and given to me by my Dad many years ago. I took it out yesterday to scan it, and found this wonderful inscription on the back. Maybe from a teacher to a student?

I love the mystery and beauty of ephemera.

The ply is tiny and I’m so pleased with it. I have yet to wind it off the bobbin and into a skein.

The other two thirds I spun into light fingering weight singles, with the intention to 2-ply into a somewhat sproingy DK weight – about the same as KnitPicks Palette, but with a slightly tighter ply. I was curious to see what happened in the plying process because the two bobbins were pretty different in the colors they held (for several hundred yards, not just the top layers).

One is full of spring-crocus lavender, deep plums, and lichen greens.

The other full of mossy yellow-green, slate grey, and black.

This was working technically OK after the first 25 yards or so to figure out the tension, speed, and draw I needed. As I spun, though, I really felt that the resulting color combinations looked awful. Somehow a yellow-red color kept coming up. It looked plum in the single, but wherever it was getting combined with another color in the plying, the color symmetry was changing it into a much more orange hue.

As the plied yarn spun continued to spin up, I became increasingly doubtful of it’s pleasingness-ability in a knit fabric. After about 90 minutes of plying, I overspun and both plies came apart on me. It seemed like a higher power was encouraging me to stop for the night, so I took the hint, gladly setting it all aside since it just didn’t feel like it was coming together.

This afternoon I decided to wind off onto my Niddy Noddy and see if that made any difference.

It did!

Although things still look a little muddy to me, this structure – which will more closely represent the color distribution when knit – looks so much better. It might not be so awful after all. I think I’ll go on.

As odd an enjoyable past-time as that may seem, it’s true. There is something that I enjoy deeply about taking a full truck-load of trash and dilapidated bits to the tip, hucking it all out the back with wild and gleeful abandon, and then heading home a (measurable) ton lighter.

Liberating! Refreshing! Freeing! Enlightening!

Best of all, I love the physical space that opens up as a result, and the feeling of freedom that less stuff brings. The older I get, the less stuff I want hanging around. (Except for maybe the fiber stash, I seem to have no problem with *that* getting bigger over time.) Sometimes after a good cleaning-out, it can feel as if the atmospheric pressure has lessened. Somehow, in some way, either the clutter or the things themselves seem to have a physical impact on me – even though it is slight – that I can perceive removed when it’s gone. I love that feeling.

Like many people, I usually have a good cleaning-out between Christmas and New Year’s. But we took it a step further last year after Christmas, when we cleaned everything out of our basement in preparation for finally finishing the unfinished space.

That involved several trips to the tip, and at the time I took about three loads to the Shoreline location. In that short time, Benny became a star.

They remembered him every time we went. The weigh-station ladies took pictures with their iphones as we drove through to pay. He even got to get out of the truck to say hi to some of the guys working on the pit (cavorting underneath signs that read ‘Children And Pets Must Remain In Vehicle’). Benny was King of the Dump.

As a result, we had the basement all cleared out. But before we could get serious about the finishing work down there, the Hawaii Crossing became the prevailing need. As you might imagine, junk and stored items slowly crept back into the basement.

Nearly a year later, this past Thanksgiving weekend, we cleared out the space again. And we took it a step further: we knocked down all the old walls in preparation for a little fresh cement to even out the floor.

Lucky me! That meant another trip to the dump to huck out (with wild and gleeful abandon) about a zillion pounds of sheet rock, some old ductwork pieces, and other random hunks of junk that we continue to unearth around here from people living for the past 50 years at this old house.

As usual, I had my accomplice co-pilot, a full truckload of junk, and a proper hucking attitude.

Momma, can we go?

Momma! Go!

Can I steer? Please? PLEASE!!

Off we went. We arrived, and Benny settled in for a good time watching all the action.

Uh, more blankies next time momma. These seats are freakin’ COLD.

All was going swimmingly well. Hucking had commenced. Sheet rock was dumped. Then oh! The HORROR! My very favorite 4-tined rake – my treasured all-purpose yard and housework tool used for gardening, composting, fire tending, and tip trip assistance – was knocked from its resting place against the tailgate … right into THE PIT!

I watched it slide right over the edge. It was like being trapped in a nightmare, a slow-motion horrible reality that seemed to last for endless minutes. I was frozen in place by disbelief, I kept thinking to myself  ‘catch it! CATCH IT!’

But I couldn’t move, first for shock, but then because chains blocked my way, a whirring, grinding, crushing machine swung overhead, and finally because the slick edge was wet with who knows what concoction of evil acid that would probably burn my face off if I got bare skin within 16 inches of it. (And besides, you know, it was just a rake.)

Still, I stared helplessly and moaned a sad ”Ohhh Noooooooooo!” as it slid out of sight.

Seconds after it disappeared over the edge, the tip operator told those of us working that pit to hold up for a moment because they were switching trucks. I watched wordlessly as my rake was driven away.

A little piece of my heart drove away with that truck.

After a moment of respectful silence, it was back to work. With a very inadequate shovel and push broom belonging to the transfer station, I managed to get 99.97% of the detritus out of the back of the truck. With a heavy heart, my co-pilot and I drove away.

How many beloved yard tools lie within those containers? We’ll never know.

As sad as this particular trip was, my love for the tip remains strong. The glorious joy of the huck is hard to beat.

I have, however, learned to keep a better handle on my rake.

It’s been hard to blog lately – other than a bit of spinning last night as I try to finish up that Stonehenge corriedale, most of my crafting time has focused on Christmas gifting for the past few weeks. As my mom is a faithful reader here, I haven’t wanted to post what’s been on the needles. But, (and hopefully by now I’ve typed enough buffer text to keep the majority of spoilers at bay) I must share!

For my sister, potholders of this fun fabric (one guess as to what her major passion is!)

For all the girls, perfectly-sized cotton face scrubbies. Inspired by, and pattern thanks to, Ms. Penny of BlackSheepCottage!

And this fun project… I had these lying around:

And these:

Aaaand these:

I’d been saving candle bits for a few years. I finally got my act together and melted down the pieces to make some gifts for Christmas.

First I trimmed the worst of the soot stains from the wax, then dumped similar types of candles into the melting pot.

I’d read a little on the internet about how to do this, and what seemed to be most important was: 1) try to keep like waxes together – paraffin with paraffin, beeswax with beeswax, 2) used bits should make similar bits (meaning use pillar candle stubs to make pillar candles, votive bits to make votives), and 3) wax doesn’t boil, it ignites… so don’t get it too hot and keep an eye on it once it’s melted!

I started with stabilizing my wicks.

Then poured in some wax. I poured through several layers of cheesecloth in a small strainer to catch the pieces of burnt wick and match heads and other flotsam that was in the original stubs.

I’d also read that as wax cools it tends to leave hollows, so to plan to do some touch up after the initial pour and cool. (The following picture has been heavily messed with to try to show the sinkhole, so apologies for the poor photo quality.)

After a quick top up, they looked much better!

I had some soy wax from hand-made candles I bought at the Redmond Farmer’s Market many years ago. I melted that down in a separate batch and used a highly-sophisticated quart milk container as a mold.

I’m so glad that wax worked well to re-form. I have loved the glow and scent of that particular wax, and it is a treat to have more hours of enjoyment from those candles.

I was very pleased with the results. The dimensions of my ultra-sophisticated mold turned out to be just the right size. The candle is burning right down the center and a beautiful glow shows through the walls.

I find myself wishing I had time to make lots and lots of these darling Heartfelt Rings by Tinyowlknits:

I keep imagining long garlands of them strung around our Christmas things. Perhaps for next year!

Everything feels warmly lit, snug, and safe.

New lights that look charmingly old.  

We wait in awe and wonder for the silent night. The holy night.

Wishing everyone a blessed final week of this Advent season.

There are no two ways about it, I love this cup. Coffee tastes better in it than in any other receptacle on the face of the earth. Tea isn’t ‘just’ tea, but something about this particular ceramic and diameter of surface air exposure makes any steeped blend taste sweeter and brighter. The cup itself is small and holds under 8 ounces, in my opinion (lab tested and certified) the perfect amount you can drink before a liquid has cooled too much to be perfect. It is substantial in the hand, yet not heavy. It takes a microwave hit like a champ and yet the fingerholds don’t threaten to leave 4th degree burns. The authentic 60s design is kitschy yet homey. The stackable shape is truly retro modern, not Retro Moderne a la Cost Plus.

But maybe best of all this cup has been in my family for as long as I remember, first owned by my mom and dad (purchased new in the 60s), and then a long-time resident of my dad’s kitchen. By the time he moved from his apartment to assisted living, the collection of cups – however many were first brought home – had dwindled to two. Friends forever. A perfect pair. They came to live at my house.

For years they were my own personal Coffee Mates. Until a few years ago when I broke one. That was a very sad day. Reduced to one lonely, solitary, perfect cup, I began an informal, on-again / off-again search for more. I didn’t have much to go on; the only imprint on the cup was the letters U  S  A  stamped into the bottom.

After some eBaying, I learned that these were manufactured mostly in the 60s by American Pottery. I found similarly shaped cups, obviously confirming the maker. But I never found another cup with the same cheery, checkered brown daisies. Fire King? Yes. Anchor Hocking? Everywhere. USA Pottery? Negative.

Fast-forward four or five years to a day back in October (2011)  that was remarkably sucky.

I’d gotten bad news all day, was tired from not sleeping the night before, and a million other things that all added up to a Real Bad Day. Coming home in the afternoon from a round of errands, I found a box on the front stoop. Grumpily I grabbed it up and stomped indoors with it. It wasn’t until much later that evening that I remembered to open it.

In the manifest deepness of my grump, I had completely forgotten what was in store for me:

As I opened the box, the realization hit me: Cups!!!

I’d finally found them… on Etsy of all places. Which, when you think about it, made sense. Cute? Check. Vintage? Check. Etsy? CHECK!!

As you can see, the lovely Kathi at 5gardenias (go there! buy stuff!) did a wonderful job packaging the cups for their journey across the country. But even through the layers of bubble wrap I could tell that something was wrong.

Kathi had more than one set of cups available in her shop. The ones she sent were obviously wrong: too dark, and it looked like they had a paisley pattern of some type on them. I was sad.

But then  as I removed the bubble wrap, the world brightened once again! It was just tissue! Cute tissue!

I unwrapped and unwrapped. Soon I had a Consummate V of vintage coffee cup power! WOO!!!

And Kathi didn’t stop there. Every single thing about her order was done with style, class, and an eye toward detail. Everything was wrapped meticulously. The tissue pattern and accoutrements were perfectly and charmingly matched.

And like the best of shop owners, she threw in a little extra surprise. For me: Vintage resin buttons.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to use them yet. The darling twine bow, tags, and little wax-paper bag of buttons now sits in a place of honor on my design board in the craft room. Every time I look at it, I think about how a little extra sassy cuteness can go a long, long way to change the entire tenor and outlook of a person’s day. Thank you for that, Kathi.

But you know what’s even better than a twee little wax-paper packet of vintage buttons? 

I have six cups.

What a shock, and even more, what a disappointment to have to curtail my bread plans and other cooking projects. It seemed at that time that all of my loves – and my kitchen mysticism – were yanked right out from under me. I felt like I’d been set adrift in an angry, uncharted sea. I didn’t have a paddle. Most days I didn’t know which way the shore was. I joked with a friend that not only had most of my greatest passions (cooking and eating) been taken from me, so were my key coping mechanisms (cooking and eating). I was in mourning and doors were shut all around me.

So I had to build some new doors.

And here I am, about two months later. Time and education has helped immensely, and I feel so much better. Physically, I feel wonderful. Emotionally, I’ve travelled through some anger and loss and am moving forward with a shift in focus to continue to explore and revel in wonderful creativity and loving home-making.

More than ever, needle crafts and fiber arts are exciting me. I am finding new, beautiful, and inspiring people and crafts.

Natalie of leeleetea and her darling ‘Oh Deer’ mitts:

Adrian of HelloYarn (you may already know that she’s a favorite of mine, since I stash her yarns and fiber) and her incredible spinning prowess and colorwork designs – double mittens that are beautiful and include her signature high-contrast color combinations:

And last but absolutely not least, TinyOwlKnits and her magical concoctions:

The Beekeeper Quilt

Butterfly Catcher Mitts

Fairy Castles (with a knitterly surprise inside!)

And, thankfully, I’m re-claiming my kitchen mysticism… but with a twist. Instead of mixing and swirling foodstuffs, I’m mixing and swirling candles, fiber, and essential oils. (Sometimes together, sometimes not!) More to come on those things!