Labour of love

More than 200 hours of work went into making this quilt, most of it my grandmother's. She's been a member of the same quilting group for 20 years, and they all help each other make quilts for family members and for charity.

Can you believe it, although I chose this pattern, a Dresden plate, I was disappointed with it when I first got it. In my defense, I was 16 - what did I know? I thought it was a bit boring. But I soon realised how fabulous it is. For years, I've been too scared to have it on the bed, in case it got damaged, and to my shame, it's been carefully stored away rather than displayed for all to admire. Many of the fabrics are scraps from clothes I wore, or my parents wore.

Yesterday, we got some dowelling, and as soon as I sew loops on the back of it, it's going up on the wall.

Some close-ups.

When bad pictures happen to good quilts

For the wife of a photographer, it's pretty embarrassing. While we were at my grandparents in Canada, I only managed a few seconds on the morning of our departure to take pictures of a couple of quilts, and the light in them is bad, as the room is lit like a dentist's office. I'm still a secret blogger as far as my extended family goes, and so was taking pictures on the sly.

The first is my grandfather's sock quilt. For years, my grandmother collected my grandfather's odd or torn socks, then finally sewed them together as quilt squares, backed them with pink flannel (why pink? I will have to ask) and secured it with French knots in red wool. Voila, your perfect, hard-wearing, economical quilt. Do other people make these? I don't know. We used it a lot for picnics on the beach.



The next is a quilt not actually made by my grandmother, but given to her by the daughter of a friend, who was obviously crazy because she didn't want it. My granny took it to a quilt shop one day when they was a some quilt version of the Antiques Roadshow, but they couldn't date it, other than say it is very old.





My mother isn't as actively crafty as my grandmother, but she made a quilt for the baby before she was born.



She was hedging her bets by making it blue and pink, but I think the lace applique is such a girly touch, it gives her preference away. The flowery fabric is from an old shirt of hers, and the image of Notre Dame is from one of her old t-shirts. (She lives in Paris.)

Flicking through a photo album of the quilts my grandmother made during 20 years with her quilting group, I happened upon my quilt, a Dresden plate, with a caption saying it took over 200 hours of hand quilting. That made me feel slightly queasy, as the quilt is folded up in a corner, not being admired, waiting for me to get round to fixing loops on it to hang it up. I'll post pictures soon.

Onwards and upwards

Hmmm, Blogger Beta. Anyone else changed over to it? It looks like it will incorporate lots of features Typepad seems to offer, which is good, and it seems to have shortcut for Safari. Yay! If only next they would sort out loading pictures - it takes forever, and often seems to fail - and shortcuts for links.

Yesterday, I got round to finishing a 0-6 months sweater for Moot. Who will be six months old on 1 December. Oh well. It's the one advantage to her being such a teeny tiny babe: her clothes last longer, and it doesn't matter if her mother is a lazy knitter.



The pattern is Dumpling from Rowan Babies, in Big Wool. Can't remember the name of the colour, but I think it's the one in the picture in the pattern book. It was relatively easy, although I hadn't knit two rows together before, and it doesn't look very neat. The big plus was that Big Wool knits up so quickly, leaving plenty of time to try to take pictures of her wearing it.



Next up is finishing a Debbie Bliss cardigan for her, which I started before she was born. Then it's on to her bumper and Christmas presents.

One of the presents I want to make is a pair of matching eye-pillows for my sister-in-law and her boyfriend, filled with lavender and flaxseed. Does anyone know for sure that flaxseed and linseed are the same thing?

Thrift heaven

Blogger ate my post! I had prepared a lovely post about all my thrift loot, and it went down the tubes. Boo!

Here it goes again. So... Value Village was great. For those of you not familiar with it, it's like a thrift supermarket. Moot was a dream, so I had about two hours to trawl through stuff with my aunt.

First up, a sweet dress for the babe to grow into. It has a label on the inside saying it was hand-made for me by a Clair McKinnes. Thank you Clair.



Next, a couple of cute tops for next summer.



Then, a green hand-knitted jacket.



I had real trouble in the sweater aisle. It was packed with beautifully knitted jumpers and cardigans, in pristine condition, all of them knitted in hideous polyester yarns in colours of questionable suitability. Fluorescent canary yellow, sparkly baby blue... Even the one I bought is borderline, it's a rather virulent green. Why why why? All those hours of work, all that knitting skill, to end up with something nobody wants to put on their baby, and so they give it to Val's and these well-meaning gifts end up languishing there until the staff get bored of looking at them and they disappear. Sigh. I wanted to buy them all to give them good homes.

Moving on to linens, I got this lovely tablecloth. At first, I wanted it for the fabric, which reminds me of a Kaffe Fasset print, but I have since thought better of it, and a tablecloth it shall remain.



Some linen hankies with beautifully delicate hand embroidery.



A couple of placemats with crochet edges. (As if we used placemats...)



A lace pillow case and a doilly-type thing with crochet edges which I might make into a pillow case.



Some great books - a Christmas story with lovely illustrations, a how-to on gingerbread houses (after just boring my husband with how great it was as a kid when my mother made them) - and a pattern for Ragedy Ann and Ragedy Andy dolls.



And a Christmas apron, probably for my mother-in-law, who's bravely taking on my mother and step-father for the holiday.



I made a brief visit to the Salvation Army thrift store, but only had the energy to nose around the craft section, and I picked up some rickrack, bias tape and lots of fabric self-cover buttons, which I am stoked about as I have wanted some for ages.



Finally, I got to trawl through my grandmother's craft room, and steal whichever bits of fabric scraps I wanted. So I did.



I've got a list of craft projects so long I can't remember them all. I want to get round to making a cot bumper for Moot, so we can move her into the cot, as her crib is a bit tight for her. Also, since I'm not working, I'm going to make lots of Christmas presents out of bits and pieces I have. Better get cracking.

But all I really want to do is eat cake. And sleep.

A boy and his goat

Also on this trip, my grand-father showed me some family pictures his niece has scanned from family albums. Included in them were a couple of corkers.

First - and favourite - is my grand-father, his younger brother and their pet goat. My great-grand-father bought the goat at auction for 50 cents. One day, as my gramps tells it, he told his father that he had been examining the goat and that he thought it was ready to produce milk. A quick lesson on the birds and the bees ensued, and the goat was swiftly sold on.



The next best one is of my maternal great-great-grand-father, who was something in the Liverpool Police, but was also an enthusiastic runner.



Neither of my parents talk much about their parents, and I don't think I really used to listen much to my grand-parents talking about their families. My dad doesn't really have any family, either, and all his family photos were lost about 30 years ago. I think I have this notion that we don't know much about our ancestors, but I guess that's not strictly true.

Finally, a different kind of picture. I was chatting about sewing with my granny, and she went to her sewing table and pulled out an old cigar box. Inside were a dozen or so wooden spools of silk thread in rich, lustrous colours.



They are the threads my great-grand-mother used to repair silk stockings, she said.

Rosa and her husband left England for Canada in search of a better life, but things were not easier for them there. They struggled to support five children - they lost their first son when he was still an infant - and Rosa took in extra work to help make ends meet. Still, they were poor. I often wonder at how hard they worked, and whether they believed that they had made the right decision to leave their home and families.

Bye-bye British Columbia

We are back in London, after a lovely trip. I love BC, for the landscape, the people - and the thrifting. We were short on time and managed only one trip to Value Village and a rushed visit to the nearby Salvation Army. But that doesn't mean the pickings were meager. Oh no. I got some goooooood stuff. Three bags full.







I will share my treasures with you as soon as I can manage to take some decent pictures.

Back in the home country

We are still in Canada, introducing the babe to her mother's home and native land.



Contrary to appearances, she is enjoying it and is not always asleep.

We did Montreal, and now we are in Victoria, at my grand-parents' home. My grandmother quilts, knits and sews, and taught me all three. I've been snooping around her sewing room, rummaging for scraps, and will post about them, and her magnificent quilts, later.

Also on the cards is a thrifting spree. Yay!