The nature table

I’ve always been a bit of collector. I like to return home with something to remind me of where I’ve been. It’s rarely anything very special, just something simple but lovely. I hardly dare admit to the glass jar of pebbles which adorns the hearth of my living room fireplace, lest the conservation police come after me. I know I shouldn’t really take pebbles and shells from their habitat but I don’t think I can stop it. I do find myself looking both ways in a rather shifty manner before I pocket a pebble.

You’ll be pleased to know that I draw the line at popping large cuttings into my handbag when visiting a lovely public garden, but if some seeds or a pine cone present themselves on the ground in front of me, I’m afraid they are meant to be mine. I go mad when it’s conker season. On an autumn walk last year my best friend threatened to disown me if I didn’t stop scrabbling around on the ground like an excited child. He also denied me the use of his pockets when I couldn’t hold any more conkers, which I found very unsporting.

And so it was when I visited Portmeirion in North Wales last year. I loved the woodland walks with bright leaves to collect and press and wandering the cliff paths down to the beach to collect a few shells. (I don’t feel like I’m properly established in a holiday cottage unless there are a few shells sat on the edge of the basic and sand around the plughole that doesn’t seem to rinse away.)

Then I stumbled on real treasure. Acorns. I’d never seen so many on the ground, especially acorns that were starting to sprout. Surely it couldn’t be wrong to wrap a few in a tissue and take them home when there were so many would-be oak trees just lying there? I kept them damp for the few days of my stay and lovingly potted them up when I got home. But their initial enthusiastic sprouting didn’t lead to anything more, despite attentive daily inspections while I wait for my portion of porridge to cook. (The potted acorns live in what I think of as my nursery garden on the ledge outside the kitchen window.) I considered this lack of activity a fair punishment for removing them from their native soil.

A week ago, the morning inspection revealed a small miracle. I tiny nub of fresh new green at the end of one acorn. Every day since there have been huge strides and yesterday my tiny little oak tree revealed it’s first identifiable leaves, perfect replicas of the distinctive full-size scalloped shape everyone recognises. (Interesting that trees don’t seem to sprout ‘seed leaves’ the way other plants do, they just skip straight to the real thing.)

I found my oak tree a larger pot and set him to grow next the horse chestnut tree I grew from a conker two years ago, to give him a bit of inspiration. I’m not quite sure what to do when my windowledge forest gets any larger but for now I shall enjoy observing their progress. I also like the thought that oak is a symbol of strength and promise. I shall take it as a sign.

Top of the list

Do you ever get the feeling you’ve talked that bit too much about something? My passion for getting an allotment has become such an obsession that I really need to limit the number of times I mention it. Witness to my obsession is how my nearest and dearest put up with it. The reading matter above is just part of the precious haul chosen for me as Christmas gifts and for my recent birthday. Even my cards almost all displayed a horticultural theme. My relatives are probably deeply worried what I’ll be like when I actually get an allotment, never mind just dreaming about it as I do now.

I’m one step closer. After several unanswered emails, I decided to pay the ‘green spaces’ department of Bath council a personal call. Face-to-face they were very helpful and let me know I’m now at the very top of the waiting list. (Not bad as I started at 125th two years ago.) Surpressing a very giddy, smiley feeling I managed to stay composed enough to ask how long it might be before I would be offered a plot. One to two months came the reply.

I can feel the growing season slipping away. I know, I’ve studied all the volumes above with their charts and planting plans. I’m staying calm and thinking about shed building and soil quality. So what if my first crop has to be sprouts and not salads? I’ll just have to spend one more spring gardening on the bathroom floor and swooning over Alicia Paulson’s riveting posts about planting up her own little patch of heaven.

Huge thanks to all those who humour me with such patience. To the givers of beautiful books, garden tokens and a particularly handsome stainless steel garden fork, I promise to bring you the cream of my future crops.

Hiding in the airing cupboard

My airing cupboard is big. Big enough to tuck away a multitude of sheets and towels and still have room to spare. Sadly it’s not quite large enough to provide a Famous Five style hiding place during a game of hide and seek but I can live with that.

I was completing the cathartic the Sunday ritual of putting away the freshly-washed bath towels and newly-ironed sheets and I noticed a little bit of colour peeping out from behind all the linens, a tantalising contrast to all that white. I couldn’t resist, I pulled gently and unfurled an unfinished patchwork quilt. I stood and wondered how I’d forgotten something in which I’d invested so much time.

The reason may be that it was one of those projects that never felt quite right. A couple of years ago, I returned from The Festival of Quilts with an advanced case of Amy Butler fever. I’m not usually drawn to big print fabrics but her bold repeats made me swoon. I was unusually reckless and bought a couple of metres of three different fabrics. (Oh the stress of purchasing without purpose and worrying about opting for enough!) Once home the beautiful materials took up residence on the arm of the sofa for several days of stroking and admiring. And there they stayed for some time.

A quilt seemed the best use of such big bold prints, so I set to work on something simple to preserve the patterns. I laid out a simple strip quilt but it just didn’t seem interesting enough, so I was brave and chopped the fabric into large squares and saved some strips to make the border. I was convinced enough to stitch everything together and layer it up ready to quilt by hand. I echoed the squares with the lines of quilting and made it through about half of them. It was looking quite pretty but still wasn’t ‘speaking’ to me. I must have been distracted by making something else as I stopped quilting and folded the poor thing away in the airing cupboard. And there it stayed for some time.

Absence has made my crafting heart grow fonder as I find I like my quilt much more today. I feel quite inspired to carry on with it now. I think the period of storage has actually improved it. It’s developed that  lovely crinkle of an older quilt. I love the way the quilting stitches show up on the plain backing fabric and look so different to the front.

A quilt takes such a long time to make, I do hope my new personal technique doesn’t always have to include two years in the airing cupboard to get the best effect.

Time for a comeback

Needlepoint has to be due for a comeback. With knitting and crochet having such a renaissance, surely this wonder of woolly stitches will be back in the limelight soon.

This is one of my treasures, a rather large picture created by my grandmother. It’s huge and every tiny stitch is done by hand. It was completed long before I came along but I know it took literally years of work. She wouldn’t be all that pleased if she knew that I actually love it most for its imperfections. There’s something so endearing about the slightly wonky expression on the little figurine’s face and the fact that the background colour of wool changes slightly part way down the picture. My grandmother obviously didn’t buy enough supplies all in one go and had to make do with another batch number at a later stage.

The picture sits rather badly in its frame but I could never bring myself to redo it as that’s just the way it is and I like the slight wrinkles where it hasn’t been stretched properly (though it does make me a little sad that she probably couldn’t afford to have her work professionally stretched and framed, and just did her best with it.) It’s on display in the hallway of my home, just as it always hung in her hall too. There’s something rather comforting about the family continuity of this. I also have a large floral picture embroidered by her sister, which I intend to put nearby. I like having the two of them represented in a way I’ll see every day. They were quite competitive, so I do wonder what they’d make of having their work side by side.

I’ve never tackled a needlepoint (or ‘tapestry’) project as big as this, and knowing how long it takes to complete a front for a regular-sized cushion, I’m not sure I’ll ever have the nerve. It’s a shame as there is something quite lovely about working with small stitches in wool. Once a small area of the canvas is complete,  I can never resist the urge to keep running my fingers over the stitches. It’s almost as if I’ve created my own firm cloth. I wonder if this is how it feels to weave something? (No room for a loom in my small flat, so I’m not likely to find out.)

I still have one needlepoint project on the go. It’s come to a bit of a standstill. I wasn’t quite in the mood to do the right thing and finish it off but I have given in to the needlepoint urge with something rather smaller. I bought a this little kit for a ‘Tiny Red House Scissor Keeper’ some time ago and never got round to doing anything with it. As you can see, it’s still not quite made it to the project finish line but each side of the tiny house is complete, I’m just having a few construction issues as my brain is refusing to get into the rhythm of the long-legged cross stitch required to bind the shapes together. I’ll have another go tonight. I can’t wait to see if this scissor keeper is the solution to losing my scissors between the sofa cushions.

Crystal magic!

I don’t mind decorating but I need treats to spur me on. After three days of sanding paintwork, scraping at grouting and losing my temper with overly-sticky masking tape, it’s taking more than the odd square of Green & Black’s chocolate to help me decorate my bathroom. How can a 6 x 6 ft room take so much effort?

Decorating is great at the paint chart stage, then it’s all down hill from there. Why are there always so many fiddly bits and unexpected problems before you actually get to wield a paintbrush? I finally dipped my brush in a rather lovely green shade of Farrow and Ball late this afternoon. ‘Cutting in’ all the edges made me grumpy but doing the big open areas was actually quite therapeutic.

Putting up the light fitting was a finishing touch treat (love a bit of styling) but I was nervous about how it would look. It’s a little something I concocted myself with a modern wire frame and a long-treasured collection of chandelier crystals. I’m so at home with fabric and threads, I’m quite out of my comfort zone with materials like this. I have the ideas but it’s so much trickier to make materials like glass and wire bend to my will. Fabric is just so much friendlier. I wobbled about standing on a chair to secure the fitting, only a couple of the crystals broke free and needed reattaching. So far, so good.

After tea I wandered back into the bathroom to see how the paint was drying and if I’d missed any bits. I pulled the cord to turn on the light and was quite bowled over by the effect. I’d no idea that crystals could throw off the light like this. I wish I could capture it better for you to see as there were actually rainbows dancing across the ceiling! A sparkly bathroom and the smell of fresh paint, what more could a girl want from her weekend?

Marzipan overload

Even more Easter baking this week with not one but two Simnel cakes. Both are intended as gifts. I only hope they make it that far – the smell is driving me wild as I’ve just liberated the second one from the oven.

I don’t really have what they call a ‘signature bake’ but people do seem to enjoy and remember my Simnel cake. Always overexcited by a bit of praise, I felt duty bound to bake it again this year. I most often go for the traditional look, topping it with toasted marzipan balls but I thought I’d try something different this time. I found a lovely mini bunny cookie cutter and soon had rabbits chasing around the edge of the cake (typical of me that the cutter inspired a piece of embroidery before it made it into the kitchen). I was always a fan of the rabbits that chase around Bunnykins pottery. You can see the lovely two-handled mug that was my christening gift. When I got it down off the shelf, I found the little china bunny inside. I don’t know how long he’d been hiding in there but what an appropriate time for him to hop out!

Adding a real ribbon bow is always a satisfying way to finish a cake. I like the way releasing the ribbon adds to the ceremony of cutting into it. What I don’t like is when greasy marks appear through the ribbon. My solution was greaseproof paper. This refused to tuck neatly behind the ribbon so I decided to make a feature of it with the help of a Martha Stewart paper punch. Result: a very frilly, marzipan-laden cake. I do hope my recipients have a very sweet tooth.

Crafting for Easter

I seem to be having quite a crafty Easter this year. I usually confine myself to a mad dash around the shops acquiring suitable chocolate novelties for my nearest and dearest but I’ve actually managed a bit of seasonal crafting this time round. It all started when Thea left a comment letting me know about the lovely Easter competition over on her Spoonful blog.

At first I just read about the competition and thought wistfully, I wish I’d known earlier as I just don’t have time to join in. Then I came over hopelessly optimistic and thought “I’ll just make time!” The challenge was to create something carrot-related to reward the Easter bunny. I resisted the Spoonful suggestion of making something from an actual carrot and went for an afternoon tea combo instead. I’ve embroidered an old-fashioned table mat with bunnies inspired by the shape of a mini cookie cutter, then added carrots with a little appliqué. Hemming the edge and getting it to stay flat was probably the fiddliest bit but a bit of strategic bullying with the point of the iron sorted it out. To set the mat ready for afternoon tea, I decided on Easter cupcakes topped with marzipan rabbits having their own carrot feast. (I shall probably need to feast on nothing but carrots myself for weeks after this as I scoffed so many marzipan off-cuts as I worked.)

I had real fun and can’t wait to see the other entries. The results will be posted on Good Friday. If you have chance to magically make a little time for yourself, there are still two days left to enter the competition. Hop over to Spoonful for all the details.