Rummage

Semi-masticated pomegranates.

Me at Grazing.

Putting the girls' Summer frocks to bed for the Winter.

PS Sorry about the silence here, I've been flat out with work all week. Talk more on the weekend. Hope you are well!
xx

  1. Washerman Spreading Clothes on Line at Yamuna River, Agra India, 2. oh, sigh, 3. o que eu gosto do rosário!, 4. fato de banho, 5. Untitled, 6. ryan, 7. the first load, 8. Pegs, 9. new home, 10. Woman hanging her laundry, 11. Untitled, 12. ~~*~~, 13. Roun' Back, 14. monday, 15. just some..., 16. the footballplayer`s mother

Have a lovely weekend!
xx

Since I've been playing along with Kirsty's Creative Spaces it has come to my attention that my desk is conspicuous in its absence. For all I know it has nicked off for a pint at the pub around the corner. I'm not quite sure when I last saw it, there are so many layers on the desk it's difficult to determine where fabric ends and table begins. I would very much like to be a tidy crafter. In much the same way I would like to be a tidy cook. Lord knows the Frenchman is keen on that idea too, there's a lot of naughty swear words and huffy pan throwing when he comes in for the clean-up.

xx

The European Fellow with Whom I Co-habit is a most excellent bread-maker. Every morning, rain, hail or shine he makes a loaf. I can't imagine an early morning without that nutty, warm smell in my nostrils.

And, just quietly, it is very bloody good. A pot of tea, a smudge of honey on a slice and I'm telling you I have my last meal on death row right there.

It's not always plain sailing, there are the times when the salt is forgotten (bleeurghh), and the occasion when Kipper discovered the dough rising (!) but overall things are grand in the bread making department here at chez nous. You should pop over for a slice with a cuppa sometime.
x

This is the front and back of the cushion for the PANDA auction organised by Shannon. I am late, (bien sur), but, I hope, still in time for it to be popped in with the goodness from all of you clever-clogs crafters.

This is a garland that commenced life as a Russian tea towel and is now winging its way to Bianca at Hollabee, (I'm not linking to her because I want it to be a surprise). The photo's crap and I couldn't get it all in but you get the idea. If you are a long-suffering follower of this blog you might remember that this is for a swap Leah organised. My initial idea was dyeing different plants in my garden along with a bit of sashiko embroidery. The garland idea came later and the words in French, English and Dutch, (calculated guess that this is Bianca's first language), were machine embroidered.


xx
PS Sorry I am such a slack blogger and don't reply to emails and comments. MUST DO BETTER. I'll try. I should comment more on other people's blogs too but am often rendered strangely speechless. Lord knows it's not that I am SWAMPED with correspondance. Nay. Maybe you could finish comments with, 'NOW WRITE BACK, YOU SLACKER!' That might get me going.

As suspected, the wedding was a roaringly good time, so much so in fact that I distinguished myself by falling over in a spectacular fashion on the dance floor. If only I could have pretended it was a break-dancing manouevre but the Nutbush is not really the occasion for experimental dance moves and the Frenchman was screeching with laughter (&#*@$*^).

I get very sentimental at weddings. I should carry a hanky tucked discreetly in my nether-regions but I always forget and have to search frantically for an old scabby tissue at the bottom of my bag in case my snorting and snuffling disrupts the ceremony. It was a Catholic ceremony too which is always fascinating, I love all the call and response stuff and the kneeling, the crossing and the candle-lighting. And the priest was a jolly fellow who wasn't too bossy and didn't preach fire and brimstone at the divorced members of the congregation. All in all it was splendid.

The next day we meandered our way around Bowen Mountain and Kurrajong exclaiming at the rampant green bushland and the trill of the bellbirds. I ate my body weight in puddings and we are now home sans enfants ready for a week of crafting and winery-visiting. xx

Have a gorgeous weekend. I'm off to Sydney for a wedding - I'm predicting a champagne cocktail or seven and a jolly knees-up on the dance floor with the Frenchman doing his most polished white man's overbite.

I wish you crisp, misty mornings, bird song and gingerbread.

xx See you next week.

“They never say to you, 'What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?' Instead, they demand 'How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?'

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, 'Le Petit Prince'

More collecting here, thanks Pip!

Chaos and mayhem here in my little den of tatt old ladies eiderdowns creativity. But in a good way you see because I am doing stuff. Only in the odd five minutes here or there, mind, because offspring and canines are all over me like a rash. Still, one mustn't complain. It's nice to have the needle out again.

The exciting news is the small people are off to their grandparents place for a few days, (be still my beating heart), so I can craft at my leisure.

By the way, it is heartening to know that I am not the only pro-cloner in the crafting community. Maybe we could get a group discount?

x Thanks to the hostess with the mostest, Kirsty, and the other Creative Space players.