Needles and Pins

Throughout history needles have been a necessity. Bone, wood and steel were all fashioned into an object that could be used to sew pieces of cloth, animal skins, beads...into garments and coverings.

Over time pins and needles were carried from one place to another; for a quick repair, an afternoon of sewing and conversation over a quilt, even on the battlefield. Pin keeps, needle holders, pincushions, make-dos all began to be a reflection of one's status, artistic ability, frugalness and expression. A few are shown here to demonstrate the endless variety.


* Bead work needle keep from the Iroquois made for the trade, felt Southern Belle, antique tulip needle kit, tattered silk tomato.


* This antique piece was made by an Old Order Mennonite that migrated North in a covered wagon, in the very early years of the 1800s. The silk, a soft faded brown is in the shape of a tulip, a common Mennonite symbol. All hand stitched, its little wool pages are still holding the needles.


*A mohair pear complete with branch stem by artist Cathy Pendleton of The Cheswick Company.


* Petite German half-doll with lace dress pincushion, Victorian metal shoe, 1920s globe (sawdust filled).

Whether mass-produced or hand-made, they all bring a touch of nostalgia, colour or uniqueness to the sewing table.



Because I live in the "House of Stuff" I'm always looking for different ways to put the goodies and castoffs I collect to use. By spray painting an old brass candelabra silver (complete with mythical dolphins on the base), mounting a silver plate seashell on top and adding bits and bobs from drawers, boxes, the bead store and the dollar store, I have created a new fantasy pin keep.





A few pearl headed pins, silver Abalone thimble, some pearl fairy beads to the wings and a handmade Swarovski crystal tiara complete the theme.



I've named her The Pearl Fairy Make-Do.

And you thought I was lying around in the hammock watching the clouds go by.

Priceless

Long before it was pipelined from one country to another, trucked from river to city or floated by huge barges to desert communities, water was pumped from wells, fed by springs and brought into the home by bucket.

Years ago before it arrived by simply turning on a tap, water was cherished and used sparingly. Beautiful pitchers and large porcelain bowls were part of one's morning cleansing. Some were simply tin or enamel, all functional in order to wash a face and hands.



I have always loved these useful pieces of the past. Complete sets (bowl, pitcher, cup and toothbrush holder) are highly prized and expensive. Some were floral painted, transferware, stippled or the design part of the mold.



Their beauty still very visible they can be adapted to many uses. Holding towels, catching rainwater, and even a cool place for a kittie to lay on a warm summer day make them a perfect item to collect.

One can only imagine the delicate faces that once looked down into these bowls or the tiny little hands that poured the water from the pitchers.



Perhaps someday my small collection will come in handy, as the water we take for granted becomes priceless.

An Ever Changing Garden

Just like the season itself, the garden evolves over the summer.

The old crabapple tree that was once laden heavy with blossoms now stands as a silent sentry, shading the hostas and bird bath beneath. The early morning sun reflecting off its silvery bark, it waits as the tiny crabapples mature into fruit.



One section of the garden has bright orange day lilies and pink hollyhocks that grow with wild abandon. Drought hardy they reach towards the hot sun waving in the ever so subtle breeze. Members of a true cottage garden they seed themselves every year.



A clematis whose tiny, down facing flowers look like Chinese lanterns, reaching 15 feet along its trellis. It's delicate flowers turn to seed later in the season, supplying tidbits of nourishment to the sparrows that spend the winter.



The potted begonias with their saucer size blooms are near perfection. Deep hues painted on delicate petals lure the butterflies to visit.

The wonderful thing about the garden is tomorrow when I visit it will have changed again, offering more visual feasts, delicate scents, and heart warming sounds.

Sentimental Journeys

Whether it is the time of year or the season in my life I feel a satisfying fulfillment indulging in sentimental journeys.

I’m not referring to the passion I have for antiques from centuries gone by, but to the fond memories of childhood. The good olde days of years long past.

I buy my organic milk in glass bottles that I walk to purchase from the neighbourhood health food store. The empties are redeemed for chocolate milk (that is to die for) and non-homogenized where the cream clots and floats to the top (When I was a child it was called cream-top and my mother would scoop it off and pour it on our oatmeal.) It works wonders in a cup of organic free –trade coffee.



I find pleasure in planting seeds and watching them grow into luscious ripe tomatoes, later to be made into thick chunky sauce. Just like the little patch, long ago outside my grandfather’s kitchen door, the fruits that the garden yields still amaze me.

Eating ice cream, riding the Merry-go-round, or weaving daisy chains, are all simple past times that cost little and bring the greatest pleasure.

So you’ll forgive me as I seek out a shady spot in the hammock, a rocker on the porch, or stroll along the boardwalk at the lake and spend the next little while enjoying this season we call summer and embarking on my sentimental journeys.



Will you share your journeys too?

Silence

For anyone that has ever lost a pet, the following is a tribute to the dedication between an animal and the family in which it dwells.

This past week I witnessed the passing of a very dear friend. For eighteen years he was a constant companion.

Appearing one day at the doorstep as a stray kitten he soon made himself at home. After locating his rightful owner and discovering he was not wanted, it was here he stayed. He was a little scruffy, few whiskers but a beautiful rich, red fur coat made him a hit with the female cats already in residence.

We named him Addison O'Malley. (Addison was the son of Adam meaning red earth and he suited it perfectly.)

Addison was part Maine Coon and he often chirped as he carried on a conversation. Blessed with a lush, thick tail he would sway it to and fro as he stalked the birds in the garden. He grew to be a big cat, 20+ lbs. in his prime and walked on a harness and leash.

I will miss him terribly as will his two Siamese sisters.

Here's to you Addie and the life you shared and the hearts you filled. May you spend eternity chasing that ever elusive bird.

Everything's Coming Up Roses

First I would like to thank all of you that participated in my little celebration. The two paper names pulled from the dainty pillowslip are:
1) Lori
2) Doreen


'Tis that season of the rose. They linger amongst the ivy and peak out from between the vines. Each one chosen for its old rose scent and dainty flowers. Their beauty is adored.

In this garden there is no use of pesticides so everything is as Nature intends. And for that reason the roses are not only to pacify a love that endures and is timeless, but each delicate petal can be harvested for another purpose.

The rose petals may be scattered down the aisle of a church so the timid bride can tiptoe upon them as she makes her way to her beloved, dreaming of the future that lies ahead.



They can float in a tepid bath where one can languish for a time encircled by their scent.

But my favourite is the organic rose petal jelly I made this very morning. Its subtle flavour adds a touch of summer to all that it accompanies.

If you would like the recipe feel free to email and I'll be more than happy to share. In the meantime, I have a fresh croissant just waiting for that special jelly so pink on its folds and fragrance with every bite.

A Celebration In The Month Of June

'Tis but a year since I ventured into the Land of Blog.

So in light of the new friends I've met, the Balls, and Soiree I've attended, I'm celebrating with a giveaway.

I would like to bestow a delicate, antique infant gown upon the participant whose name will be selected. A second name shall be chosen to recieve a packet of vintage lace snippets and tibits of trim. Perfect for prim and doll creating.

Please leave a comment or for those without a blog feel free to email. When the 15th arrives I shall place all the names into a battenburg lace pillowslip (most appropriate for a textile appraiser's draw) and select the winners.

Thankyou for making this past year so enjoyable!



Please note - The gown is for display purposes only.Being of 100 years in age it is not without tiny imperfections. I call them beauty marks.