Rummage

I'm high-fiving the onset of Autumn here in Canberra. Call me biased but no Australian city pulls off this season as well as the Bush Capital.

 

Have made the startling discovery that whilst hating fuschias on principle I love their chalky pinks and scarlets after they've kicked the bucket. In fact I'm coming to realise that I prefer half of my ornamental garden when it's a husky cadaver. I announced this fascinating tidbit to the Frenchman over breakfast who seemed concerned that it might be setting some kind of precedent, I told him that whilst I thought he would make a natty looking corpse, I had no intention of splooshing the round-up in his morning beverage. Not this week anyway.

..be safe, have fun, bon weekend! xxx

 

with thanks to these very talented toymakers! xx

With a couple of days up my sleeve I'm dusting off the cobwebs in the craftroom. The top photo is a collection of vintage linen tea towels I found for a dollar a-piece at my local trash and treasure. It was one of those op-shopping moments, you know, when the hairs on the back of your arm stand on end. Below is another square to go towards our quilt I'd like to knock off before the start of winter.

So nice to rejoin Kirst and the Creative Spacettes, they're over here if you're asking. xx

I arrived home from work yesterday evening to be greeted at the door by the Frenchman sporting a mullet. The gorgeous Francophone head of hair all gone sans a neck fringe to rival any Italian Stallion circa 1973.

This should have been hilarious but I seem to have had my sense of humour lobotomised since starting the new job and so sat down on the steps and sobbed. Poor Frenchie, he rushed to the bathroom with his new clippers and made short work of the long bits, returing shorn but with a pair of dapper sideburns to soothe the frazzled nerves. Have I ever mentioned that I am partial to a fiercely angled sideburn? Non? 

In other news I have completely fallen off the chocolate-free bandwagon and develop a nervous tick if I don't have a piece at 2-hourly intervals.

We'll just ignore the fact that we are four weeks into the term and I've only just finished the library bag. Still she wears it with pride, her snappy fabric choices too. That's my girl.

We've had picture-perfect weather here in Canberra this weekend. The light is shifting to a golden gear that heralds Autumn.

With the edge taken off the sun's ferocity, my garden is responding with renewed enthusiasm and for the first time in a month the edge has been taken off my stress levels and my voice has shifted down an octave or two. I hope your weekend was similarly restful! xx

Here's a peek at something I'm working on for a mate and the innards of my handbag. Compulsive viewing, I know, but time is of the essence and I must go and commune with my whippet in the paddock before he gives up on me forever. Just wondering when life will ever get its act together and slowthehelldown?

This is a flying visit because I have blogger's elbow. Will be back when the crazy home/work equation settles.

In other news, went to see Avatar and was frightfully disappointed that I didn't have the trusty new camera with me as the Frenchman sporting the 3D glasses in profile was infinitely amusing. Can't say it was the film of the year for me, personally, any self-respecting film keeps itself firmly on the screen. None of this lurching out at you business. Most disconcerting.

and she's not afraid to use it.

Here is a small part of my collection of opportunity frocks that I have been gathering since my early teens. I have a long association with op-shops, long before vintage was fashionable, which is not to say that I am ahead of the zeitgeist but more to do with a desperate search for my mother's ballgowns.

When my mother was in her twenties she had a modest but beautiful collection of dresses made by my great-grandmother who was a wonderful seamstress. Grandma Graham made her day dresses, dresses for church and ball gowns all immaculately tailored with fabric and buttons that were scrimped and saved from other dresses and hand-me-downs.  

One day, in the midst of a Spring-clean, Mum gave my grandmother two bags of clothes. One contained frocks for charity and the other contained all her best and brightest gowns made by Grandma Graham.

You can see where this is heading, I'm sure.

Predictably, the bag of beautiful frocks ended up at the local St Vincent de Paul, snapped up by some lucky article. And even though I know that they are gone, I almost always have a moment in the local oppie when I imagine uncovering the long-lost bag of frocks. These are some of the substitutes I have discovered in my travels, destined for the girls when they are old enough.

PS the new camera comes tomorrow so this is the last hurrah for my trusty old Fuji, you've served me well, friend! xx