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I resolve to store potatoes correctly and to only store potato varieties that are meant to be stored.
Potatoes roasted with a bit of olive oil, rosemary, salt and pepper are always nice. It's also good to run your hands through the rosemary plant and carry it's fragrance with you for awhile.
Inspiration can come from the strangest places.
I love how the feathers on the chickens are layered. The variations of colors. I've been thinking of ways to translate this into a project? Layers of fabric?
And for Kari, the stack of books I've been currently reading. I've finished Gardening at the Dragon's Gate and The Time Traveler's Wife.
This will probably be the last time I show this quilt for awhile. Just wanted to share what I did with the clown. I ended up printing the image on silk and stitching that down rather than the t-shirt transfer. A t-shirt transfer is hard to stitch through without it tearing and I didn't leave enough cotton on the edge to stitch with. I also didn't like the way it looked as much as the silk.
I like the way the silk is very iridescent and looks like bubbles. So much so that I did a few other small bubbles with this fabric. I'm also using the silk for the hand prints I want to include. Now it's time to figure out what to do with the back.
From inside my mind: been thinking about the ways we can create patterns on fabric. Traditional ways such as dye and silk screening or more modern techniques such as the computer. I've done both on this blanket.
How many conversations start with a weather comment I wonder?
It seems like the quintessential ice breaker. The "what to talk about when you don't know what to say."
But I was thinking this morning (as I walked through a blustery wind storm), about how much the weather shapes our lives, how vital it is. As a gardener, much of what I want to do is dependent on the weather. As a cook, what I make has to suit the weather or I'm not content. As a creator of things, what I might make on any given day depends on the weather. And there is poetry as the clouds drift across the sky, in the way the light changes, in the sound of rain and wind. There is unseasonable weather and the possibility of climate change. Weather is something we all have in common, something we all experience...
It's 63 F right now(unseasonably warm), windy and muddy. Perfect weather for sewing, knitting, spinning yarn and playing with photos. I started pruning my big apple tree before the wind came up. The chickens think it's great weather for laying eggs. I'm catching some raindrops to use rain water for my next batch of dye. What's your weather like and how does it affect you?
Just had to ask a few more "what if's" before I composted the pomegranate.
What if a piece of silk rayon velvet is tossed in here for a couple hours.
And then dipped in here (some of the pomegranate juice poured into a cast iron pot).
Answer: a beautiful brownish green.
What if a bit of the murky black dye bath is spooned on to a piece of dry raw silk fabric that was dyed in the enamel pot with pomegranate. I flicked the spoon a bit too.
Oh this is fun!
I'm working on my 17th pair of socks, my 34th sock. Although I vary the color patterns, I've used the same basic pattern for all of them. Because I knit most of my socks on the bus I end up talking about knitting with people quite a bit. One of the comments/questions that always seems interesting is why put that much work and time into a pair of socks? From the frugal standpoint, it's not possible to make socks for less than they can be bought. Even with organic materials. Socks wear out too.
The easy answer is that I like to knit, the meditative repetitive creation. It's about the process. I can't read on the bus, so it gives me something to do (although sometimes daydreaming is enough). So why not? Socks are a small easy project for packing around. Socks wear out, I always need them.
The more complex answer is that I like to take ownership of making for myself, for my friends and family. It's one of the reasons I garden as well. It's not about being self sufficient. But I do think for many of us, our world has become very specialized. It's easy to take things for granted. In a strange way, making my own socks has become a quiet act of rebellion. I'll probably be making socks for a very long time...
The wool blanket that is the backside of the circus quilt is in pretty bad shape due to the nesting instincts of one of the members of the household. She, Lola, has been a constant reminder that when something is destroyed, there is an opportunity to build something else (luckily she is outgrowing some of this).
I keep looking at the frayed edges of the holes where the weft and warp of the weaving is apparent. Thinking about the building blocks of fabric. Thinking about weaving. I am very, very familiar with weaving net for fishing. Maybe stitches can be made into a net? Maybe all my juggling balls on the circus quilt need a safety net? Maybe that is what the backside of my circus blanket will become...
Gardening in winter is about planning and dreaming for the most part. And maybe a little pruning.
My planning this weekend began with a bit of tea one of my brothers gave me. It starts as a ball of leaves and blooms when placed in water. I believe that the tea leaves are sewn together to create this effect. Very beautiful to watch.
Tea is something I'm currently growing in my garden. I planted two tea plants last year and am hoping to plant a few more this year. Someday I may have my own tea to drink. It will certainly be fun to try as a dye plant. Thinking about what else I can plant for dye...black hollyhocks and pansies, goldenrod, and more marigolds. Certainly more red cabbage!
Maybe I should be afraid of what's in my water. I simmered the pomegranate rind for about an hour and then tossed in the raw silk. I also tossed in a piece of my silk I dyed with red cabbage hoping that it would turn green. Instead it became a lovely red (it was purple for a few seconds right after I placed it in the dye bath). The pomegranate turned out a tan-yellow or gold-yellow. All of this soaked for about 10 hours. It was a soft yellow for the first 2 hours.
A bit of the dye I poured into my cast iron pot with another piece of raw silk. It was truly scary looking for awhile. But when I checked it tonight it was a beautiful shade of black. This piece soaked for about 22 hours.
Looking inside: one of the things that I like about dyeing with pomegranate is the connection to the myth of Demeter and Persephone and why we have seasons.
It's still dark here. The moon hiding behind rain clouds. On December 28th I saw the blue moon, not quite full. I've been playing with this for a couple days. It's layers of photos. The blue moon, my hand print, a stitched/felted/painted piece of fabric I did this summer. It has a name.
"Juggling the Blue Moon."