Roadside meadows

I've posted over at Sarah Raven's blog, Garlic and Sapphire today about a couple of places on the way to Dottycookie's house where I got out of the car and found a surprisingly wonderful diversity of wildflowers by the side of the road. Our verges are, in effect, roadside meadows and their careful management may help to replace some of our lost habitats. You can read more about the flowers I discovered, including the stunning  blue viper's bugloss here.

Details

When the house is, ahem, a little messy and there seems to be a list of mundane things to do that gets longer rather than shorter I find that focussing on small but pleasing details can help. Displacement activity it may be, but I found it fortifying this morning before I rushed off to strip the beds, load the washing machine and clean the bath before starting commission work.

This is my favourite spot in the house, our mysterious little window. Both the willow wreath and the marmite embroidery are mementoes of very good days.

As my crochet skills develop a little (this is a shawl - too ambitious perhaps?) I've realised that there's a bit of a risk of me becoming a yarn junkie. Specifically I have developed a slight dependency on Manos del Uruguay silk blend. Oh good grief, the colours! The self-marling! This is the Europa colourway. Don't look too closely at the tension. I think there may be a few issues.

There is cheery evidence of a recent birthday and an impending outdoor party at the Cambridge Botanic Gardens. The summery colours bely the dismal weather forecast though. We may have to rearrange and have an indoor den party under the dining room table.

My feverfew has self-seeded throughout the garden and is about to flower. I'll get several months of simple but beautiful daisy-like clusters for popping in a vase, without having spent a penny. Joy.

I've been working on some simple-ish everyday pieces for my etsy shop. Tiny 19th century keys, mid century and handmade silver buttons, collections of gemstones, recycled glass & 1950s beads whose colours echo my shawl and simplest of all, a tiny garland of 1920s pearls from a broken necklace I rescued from a junkshop. I taught myself how to add a pearl to a chain almost sixteen years ago. My hands know the small movements so well and as I add each one and build up the little fringe of pearls I imagine the feeling is similar to that of a knitter who has returned to a familiar stitch, yarn and pattern.  

Edited to add: two places have just become available on my upcoming silver clay workshop, Saturday 22nd June, due to cancellations. We've been impressing sweet cicely and ground ivy leaves from my garden into the clay in my recent sessions - the results have been rather lovely. 
Drop me a line on emma at minniedog dot co dot uk if you'd like to come along.

Getting reacquainted

During the Winter and well into Spring I admit to having neglected my garden. Horribly. I would peer guiltily out of the window whilst dashing about the kitchen making small dinners and washing up. The filthy cold temperatures got between me and the soil. I'm afraid to admit it but I've realised that I'm a fair weather gardener.

There were crispy bits, weedy bits and bits that were, frankly, returning to nature under piles of leaves. My garden is usually a little wild and woolly round the edges and I like it that way but there are limits. The thought of tackling it was daunting and I procrastinated. I used the incessant cold and rain as an excuse. I would surely catch a dreadful ague if I went out there. Yes. It would be dangerous. Meanwhile the ground elder became triffid-like and began to take over. 

Then I rationalised it. I would never transform it into a Chelsea gold medal-winner but I did need to save my Knautia from being strangled and it would be good to be able to enjoy a cup of tea in the sunshine, if it ever arrived. I went to buy a new garden fork and a pair of floral gauntlets on sale and began. I reckoned that four or five half-hour sessions would bring it back to a state in which it would be pleasant to sit in again. Whilst I swept up leaves, hacked at bindweed and realised that the winter had killed off my Echinacea it was hard to imagine wanting to spend time out there. 

Slowly I dug up more ground elder than the Romans would have known what to do with (they ate it, apparently). I cleaned out the sandpit. Then, as the sun began to appear for brief periods and we had glimpses of Spring-like weather I realised that I was beginning to look forward to getting into the garden. What's more I prepared and sowed my very first small cutting patch in an area where a birch tree used to be. It only has five or six seed varieties but the other day I identified my first Ammi majus seedling. I may have squealed a bit.

Those aren't weeds, honest.

The tiny new plants are even inspiring new ideas. I'm working on a design for a little seedling necklace.

At the moment I'm spending a little time outside every day to water, weed and sit awhile. The little ones are too - yesterday I found the dog fast asleep in the sun, draped rather fetchingly with rhubarb leaves. A few nights ago I even sat in my deckchair and crocheted. My garden and I are friends again. Phew.

When virtual becomes real

Sometimes things feel out of kilter and small everyday difficulties can become a little too consuming. Perspective is needed. I think Ali may have been feeling the same this week. I adore living here on the edge of the Fens - I feel more in tune with the seasons than ever before - but the people I like to chat with most are just that little bit further away geographically. As wonderful as the internet is for exchange of thoughts, banter, creativity and images there's little to beat being together with someone for an hour or two. 

Val and I met through this curious online world but as with several other of the people round these parts our friendship has become something real, tangible and rather joyous. Gossiping over a cup of tea was exactly what I needed yesterday afternoon. Whilst our children made princesses out of Hama beads we discussed the important topics of (in no particular order): miniscule beaded hearts, woven and crocheted successes, passing that age milestone, running workshops, the excitement of commissions and a hare made of bendy sticks. Worries faded away. Perspective returned, as did laughter.

Then Val taught me how to make a willow flower and all was well with the world. All the blog comments, 'Your tweet got a reply!'s, perusals of Pinterest, emails and Google plus wotsits in the world couldn't match it. We took a picture, because that's what bloggers do, but friendship was the thing for those few hours. 

Crochet at Play by Kat Goldin (I actually crocheted a thing!)

Long-term readers of my blog will know that crochet skills have all but eluded me. FOR FIVE YEARS. Val Celia and Gina valiantly attempted to teach me whilst stuffing me full of cake once. I'm afraid that I had such a bad case of addled baby brain and Littlest, being very little indeed at the time, needed such regular jiggling to put her to sleep/feeding with mushed carrot/tiny person ablutions that I failed to grasp the loopy code and my crochet flowers looked as though they'd contracted blight. Then came the Making Winter project. Crochet was on the list of good things to do in winter that Mrs Thriftyhousehold and I compiled We organised a workshop with Joanne of NotsoGranny and lo! -we made a coaster each. Success (ish). Then Mrs ThriftyH went on to the giddy and impressive heights of a cushion crocheted in string. Meanwhile any skills I'd gained seemed to evaporate through shameful neglect. My coaster lay in a basket-of-partially-finished-handmade-things and taunted me.

Fast forward 18 months and both Joanne and Kat Goldin made mind-bogglingly wonderful accessories for the Red Nose Day Dolls. Secretly I wanted a grown-up sized crochet owl hat and ballet outfit. Shortly afterwards I received a lovely email from Kat asking me to be part of the blog tour to celebrate publication of her book, Crochet at Play. I was honoured but secretly a little horrified. How could I break it to Kat about the gargantuan crochet fail? Surely I would be letting her down if I didn't make a thing. I hurriedly organised a refresher session at Joanne's house.

 First ever successful (slightly wonky) crochet in the round and first ever puff stitch.

Then a surprising thing happened. The hours of peering grumpily at online tutorials, instructions dimly remembered from the cake and crochet day, the partially-finished coaster and the unadulterated desire to learn all seemed to combine. I chose a pattern, the flower and bud cowl, and with Joanne's patient guidance it began to take shape (albeit a teeny one for monkey). Buoyed by my slightly wonky success I rashly bought some swoon-inducing Manos silk blend and began to hook a cowl for Littlest. It did not look like a tangly birds nest. It had puff stitches that look like little buds. Joy!

It was satisfying and soothing to make and the colours made my eyes very happy. I finished it (I wove in the ends and everything!) It was seized upon with glee and is often worn as a Bruce-Springsteen-style headband whilst doing busy four-year-old things.

What can I say about Kat's book? The premise of the pattern collection is crochet for dressing up, for playing in and to stimulate childrens' imaginations. There's a sleepy octopus to have naps with, a black-eyed Susan throw to snuggle under, witches' hats and a little wolf cardigan. The hedgehog mittens are to die for as is the little mermaid tail snuggle cocoon.  The images are seriously smile-inducing and make me wish I were five again. The photographer? Kat herself. The technical editor? Joanne of Notsogranny (they're quite a crochet team - have a peep at the The Crochet Project pattern lookbook). 

It's an utterly joyful book and my desire to make something from its pages was the final kick up the crafty bum that I needed to crack this crochet business.

Stop motion animation by Kat Molesworth

The final revelation is that it felt good to do the loopy thing with my hook. What's more I had some cowl envy so I scaled up Kat's pattern and made a flower and bud cowl for myself. Oh yes. I wore it to the car boot sale yesterday where it kept out the chill. It felt so snuggly and soft that I didn't take it off until bedtime. I crocheted a garment (a very small one)! It is a crafty miracle. Thankyou Kat and Joanne and Gina and Val and Celia. Your persistence has finally paid off. 

Right. I fancy some simple crochet wristwarmers next. Can anyone recommend a good pattern?

The Shadow Year - honesty seedpod necklace

I'm always honoured when I receive a commission request. No matter what the design or occasion might be it's a good feeling to be able to make something that might have some meaning for the recipient. A few months ago Hannah Richell contacted me enquiring about the honesty (lunaria) seedpod necklace I first made in the Autumn of 2011 as part of my Nature Table Series. She told me that she had written a novel in which honesty and in particular a necklace in the form of an honesty seedpod played a pivotal role and that she was interested in commissioning this design to coincide with its publication.

Hannah writes: I stumbled upon Emma’s ‘Silver Pebble’ jewellery designs while developing the idea of an ‘honesty necklace’ within the novel. I wanted one of my characters to give a gift to another character and the idea of a silver seed head pendant struck me as perfect. It was amazing: a quick Google search instantly brought up an etsy photo of an almost identical necklace to the one I had imagines in my mind's eye.

I felt connected to Emma and her work on several different levels and, unable to stop thinking about the silver honesty necklace on etsy, I knew I had nothing to lose in asking Emma if she would take on a special commission for me.

Honesty seedpods remind me of my Grandfather's garden. I would pick them in the late summer and separate the thin papery layers to release the tiny penny-like seeds. My daughters love to collect seeds,  especially the littlest, and she discovered honesty herself last autumn. She asked specifically to be taken up to a spot on the path leading to our village wood where we had discovered some that had self-seeded. I kept finding the seeds in her pockets.

They have nostalgic associations for Hannah too: I loved the idea of featuring lunaria in the story because half of my novel is set in the early 1980s and for me, it’s always been a plant steeped in childhood nostalgia. I can still remember my mum’s dried flower arrangements dotted around our house in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, vases filled with stems of silver honesty seed heads that shimmered and rustled as you passed by. I can hear the papery crackle of them under my fingertips, and recall how they would split, or crumble like ash if you pressed too hard. They were so delicate and fragile, like iridescent paper moons. To my mind honesty just seemed to fit with the era I was writing about.

It also married up neatly with a key theme of the novel, for buried at the heart of The Shadow Year – a tale about a group of friends who decide to drop out for a year and try to live self-sufficiently in a remote, abandoned cottage – lay the idea of truth and lies, and the deceits we sometimes tell ourselves and each other to justify our less honorable actions.

I made two honesty necklaces for Hannah, each with three seeds. I do love the design of these seedpods, especially the little lines (funicles) that connect the seeds to the edge of the pod. They are satisfying to make. Very excitingly one of the necklaces has been part of a giveaway organised by Hannah's Australian publishers. You can read more about the premise of Hannah's novel and her story-telling process on her blog.

Note: I have long been a fan of Richard and Judy's bookclub so I was excited to find out that Hannah's first book, Secrets of the Tides, had been selected for their book club last summer (the interview with Hannah begins 1 minute in). It was so good to put a face to the lovely emails that had flown back and forth between us. I ordered a copy of Secrets of the Tides and became so engrossed in it over the Easter holidays that I read it in just a day or so. It's engrossing and an excellent read.

Spring Nature Trail

One day last week Littlest came home from school and announced that she wanted to 'go and find nature things'. I've written a post over on Sarah Raven's blog, Garlic and Sapphire about what we found.