Tagging

Annabel tagged me for "seven gardening things about me" and my first reaction was that I don't know seven people with gardening blogs who can be tagged, followed immediately by "hey I just don't DO chain letters - pyramid selling (or tupperware parties)" - but a moment's thought revealed both these reactions as churlish and contrary to the spirit of blogging. So, if I can break the chain by not tagging anyone at the moment, here are seven garden-related things that come to mind:

1. Because I live in an upstairs flat my garden consists of three (slightly illegal)windowboxes. Houseplants used to number 27 but are now down to 11, excluding the cuttings in water taking root, and a recovering orchid.

2. DSO's garden

has an ancient apple tree and equally ancient roses. Weeding round the roses can be a bit prickly, if not downright dangerous.

3. Some people are compulsive weeders and plant-movers, but not very interested in planning, planting, or sowing. Many of these people have day jobs as editors.

4. Plants should not be overcrowded. (And people need space too. Ask any city-dweller.)

5. "To see paradise in a flower..." - yes, regularly.

6. The garden will get along without you, but many a plant needs TLC to survive.

7. If you do it every week, mowing the average suburban patch of grass takes just 15 minutes, and that includes getting out the (electric) mower and putting it away.

And, for something completely different, part of the garden at West Dean

Stash downsizing

Even though I've been back in the UK for all of 12 hours, and even though I've done no sewing for three weeks, I haven't yet set foot in the workroom. Anne's question on BQL about how to go about downsizing the stash has made me realise that my stash has reached the right size -- it supplies just about all the fabric I need for any idea I might have. (Is that because knowing what's there sets limits for the ideas I have?)

Also the art materials on hand are sufficient that new stuff isn't constantly needed. Yet there are some that never get used -- is this a call for getting rid of those, or for trying to use them more?

Back to the fabric -- it ranges from dressmaking lengths, kept in trunks and drawers in other rooms, and under beds, to bags of really quite small scraps. I'm reluctant to throw anything out because the oddest things spark off the really stretching ideas, or are just what's needed now and then. Coming across these odd things, or seeing them next to something unexpected -- those are the glorious moments of impetus.

And if there's an unexpected group project, the stash will usually yield enough to get started. Here's what turned up when I needed "rich autumn colours" - they obviously won't be used in these proportions, to get a real autumnal feel.

Trawling through the stash for projects like this seems to turn up so many forgotten things - it's like having new fabric. Recently I found a lot of silk blouses, just needing cutting up, in all sorts of gorgeous colours -- when fashion changed and people were getting rid of their "big shirts" the charity shops were good sources. Recycling is good, yes? So instead of buying fat quarters I focus on thread, including embroidery thread, and on the tools that make the making easier.

For serious downsizing, though, when the day comes that I simply must do it, the only way will be to take everything out of the room and put back only what I want to keep, and be ruthless with the rest. Living out of a suitcase gets you thinking about the simple life.

Going nowhere

Trying to make "something" with some of the printed drier sheets (used of course) - very pleasant to sit on the patio in the sunshine doing this, but to no great effect. This is instructive as an example of how not to go about it - or maybe it was just the devil making work for idle hands?

One I prepared earlier

This small piece uses sweet (candy) wrappers, coils of tissue paper, metallic paint, and machine quilting through a top layer of net; it was inspired by medieval architecture and made about 10 years ago. It hangs in the staircase of my parents' home.

...and one for later

This little bag from the grocery store cries out to be replicated in cloth.

Neighbourhood at night

These pictures were taken a year ago.From visually raucous restaurant to abandoned bakery (rye bread a specialty - closed down a couple of months ago) estate agents touting for business (must check if they're still there - dangerous times for estate agents)Where the pavement is wide enough, late-night open-air cafes (doing a roaring trade)
and late-night grocery shopping at Tesco (people gotta eat)
There are always lots of people on the street - not really a scary place, though it looks sinister in these photos. Looking out my window, I have an ever-changing scene -- including the weekly spectacle of the gathering crowds waiting for Tesco to open at 11am on Sunday.

A bit "last year", really

And what happened to the rest of the sweater?

Quilters' tea party

You could have patchwork cake (Battenburg) --and reverse applique jammy-sandwich biscuits --
but what would this be? layered sheers with embellishment?

Visual language

Following an exercise in Jane Dunnewold, Clare Benn, and Leslie Morgan's new book, Finding your own visual language, I've been cutting designs into erasers and printing them. It's fun, and so far (perhaps as a result of doing these in batches, rather than one every day) the visual language is more of the same-old same-old.

Spooky forest

The trail to Widgeon Falls goes through the woods, and the moss-covered trees are very photogenic. Here is a link to some photos of enchanted forests recently carried by Die Zeit, with excerpts from German fairy tales. Seriously spooky!

The bee's knees

Even under lowering skies, plenty of people attended Dr Bee's 3rd annual Bees and Blueberries Festival last weekend - part of the growing agri-tourism industry. The quiet backwater of Ford Road Detour was invaded by hordes of people. Besides the "bee beard" (twice daily) the program included taekwando demonstrations and a blueberry pie eating contest. Inside the Honeyland shop is a wall showing a hive at work. Honeyland supplies hives of bees to blueberry farmers, for pollinating their crops, and you can take courses in beekeeping there.

Art recently encountered

These two works by Ann Nelson, a BC artist, are purloined from her website.


Ann Nelson's work sent me scurrying to look also at the work of Bonnard, Adrian Berg , and Patrick Heron's garden paintings.

X's

A bit of textile stuff, for a change -- screenprinted, then batiked. Not sure if I want to stitch these at all.


The rows of dots are made with a sponge brush, cut into "teeth"; the V shapes are done with a folded bit of cardboard.

Fireworks

Vanouver's annual "celebration of light" generates $40 million of revenue for the region, takes place on four evenings (rain or shine), and is spectacular. Thanks to an unexpected invitation from a boat owner, I was able to watch it from the water -- an amazing experience.

To the south, the nearly-full moon hung low in the sky, quietly making its steady path of light.

Sunrise; a beautiful day

Sunrise is happening as I write. Tony is out there in the dew and mist, photographing the misty light - his favourite subject.


The little trees at the edge of the lawn are outlined in light and throwing fabulous spikey shadows.


But my beloved camera has developed a spot on the sensor. It can be edited out, but I currently have no access to the software.

Danger signs

Displacement activity

It's all very well being back in the bosom of the family, and having lovely meals with lots of people round the table, and having the whole day without the pressure of job or other commitments -- but oh I do miss the sewing machine! Meanwhile, some knitting keeps the hands busy.

And I miss the English countryside, its layers of history.

Here in the brash new west coast, layers of history are emerging, even over my own lifetime.

This view would have been all "bush" fifty years ago, when my parents came and put up their first house here (after a devastating house fire, they rebuilt on the same spot). Now it's high-bush blueberries as far as the eye can see - or until you hit the railway and the container yards that have spread along it. The village with its general store, gas station, etc - basic services - has become a built-up suburb with several malls, some "historic properties", and even a Pitt Meadows Museum. The highway and bridges have been widened and still can't cope with the ever-increasing traffic. At weekends the skies hum with pesky planes from Canada's busiest small airport. When we arrived this road had a few rundown old houses; now these have been renovated or replaced. Fortunately this area of green belt remains; since the neighbour cut down his trees, you can see the mountains again. When it isn't raining, that is. Yet even in the rain, they were picking blueberries.

Country fair

4-H kids showing their animals, a horse whisperer, medieval archery and corn grinding, Ridge Raptors and their birds, lawnmower races, the "home arts" building with its jams, cakes, quilts...and the miniature baby goats.

Deisgner Joyce Clissold

Searching the visual arts collection here brought up an image of fabric designed by Joyce Clissold. She studied at St Martins college of art in London 1924-7 and her best known work is from the 20s and 30s. Central St Martins has a collection of her textiles. She ran a workshop called Footprints (founded in 1925) until her death in 1982.