This week Diane gifted me this marvelous crazy patch throw. Wonder what stories it can tell.
Wonder when it was created. It has one or two sets of embroidered initials.
Some of the patches are threadbare....
and some of them are crunchy and crumbling. The question is how do I care for it? It has an old smell to it that would be nice to get rid of. Replacing the disintegrating patches would be interesting but finding the right replacement fabrics would be difficult.
High tides lapping at my neighbour's garden on the Annapolis Basin on a blustery day.
Only three hours later. The line of grey on the top photo is the outer side of the dyke that stops the ocean lapping at our front doors. Hope it holds up for many a long year! The grass to the left of the post is in fact the first dyke built by Champlain by his band of merry Frenchmen way back when.
Today is my day for quietly remembering my Dad. He loved exploring the world and here he is looking over the Isle of Mull. He was an ink and watercolour artist. He was a wood turner and I think he was happiest doing just that in his garage, despite the bellows that would come out of there if things weren't going quite right! Miss you Pops.
This handsome oak grew outside my mother's little house in Dorset. Mother and I used to paint it, draw it and of course photograph it. We loved that tree. Do you see the crows sitting up there watching us right back?
Yesterday I drew it onto linen, and stitching has started on a cloth that will tell the story of immigration and having "roots" in two continents.
Whilst on the subject of trees....where the tops of trees meet the sky is fascinating to me. Here is a nearly naked ash and some tips of spruce. I am still at the photographing and recording stage; no clue yet as to how I would interpret this fascination in stitch.