Tuesday 31 May 2011

Delayed daffodils

When I had neither time nor ability to upload a blog entry on daffodils, the daffodils were out. I wrote said entry in the middle of a sleepless night, and it has remained in old-fashioned pencil and paper ever since. The daffodils have gone now, but since I haven't the patience to hold onto the entry til next year... I now have time and ability, so here you are (with apologies for being out-of-nature's-season):

Daffodils were what my mother had for her wedding bouquet. And she was two months pregnant with me at the time. 'The Daffodils' was the name of the poem my father had me learn by heart as a child, standing on a chair and reciting with pride. It was a favourite of his and his father before him. Daffodils were the gift my mother always received on Mothers' Day, and what I received on my first Mothers' Day. No wonder they mean so much ot me: they have punctuated the tenderest moments and bonds of my life. I look out for them from the first moment I feel a little warmth on late winter's breath. I look out like a child searches a crowd eagerly for a returning parent. The first one I see is so joyful, so fulfilling; a promise delivered; a burst of glee in my heart. It seems almost ridiculous that a mere flower could have such an effect. But its warm yellow face is an echo of summer from a future yet to happen. A snowdrop is the first hope of spring, but a daffodil is the promise of it. And if a snowdrop is the first faint whisper of spring, the first daffodil is the moment the season sings out 'Ta da! I'm here!'

It is just as the poem says: 'And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils'.

Sunday 29 May 2011

Things you missed... March sewing

The sewing machine and I got along well in March. We bonded. I still made a lot of mistakes, yet I was making things and feeling that I could do it.
First I made a blanket for a friend's new baby. I tried mitred corners! I didn't really achieve them, but they were a passable attempt. It was nice to make something for someone so young. I hope I will continue making presents, so this little gift may be the first of many. It was nice to imagine her birthdays to come, and the made-things she will amass over the years. And to think this is the first child who will know no different me than sewing-me.
Then I made some bags for two two-year olds. I really enjoyed it. Little boys like little bags to put things in, or at least mine does. I will make them differently next time, as I hemmed each side first before joining, which made the joins incredibly thick to sew and affected the lie of the bag. Don't you love the fabrics?! Hungry Caterpillar fabric - what a great idea. I had to restrain myself from buying the entire range. And I love the colours and retro-style of the planes. I sewed the names on in the same way as with on first sewing project (the bunting), but am beginning to think hand-sewing would be better and neater (if only I had the time).

Last but by no means least - in fact, last but most - is the bag I made my mum for Mothers' Day (or is it Mother's Day? I need to read some 'Eats, Shoots & Leaves'). I'm so pleased with how it turned out: the fabrics together, the button, the way I 'knocked it up' following my instincts rather than my usual control freakery. And I love that the floral, mustardy fabric is Anna Maria Horner, whose blog I really enjoy and whose sense of colour and pattern is exuberant and yet perfectly judged. It was a little treat of a purchase for me and for my mum, and hopefully not my last from her range.

And there you have it. I haven't sewn a thing since - the Tiny One arrived once March had departed, and has ruled my roost since. But I am promising myself to make time for sewing (soon, soon) and I hope it won't be too long. As a little whet to my appetite, and a spur on to sparking up the machine, I've been on ebay buying fabrics in the last couple of weeks and getting very excited when our postlady comes!

Friday 20 May 2011

Things you missed... March cards


March was a bit of a card-making frenzy, because I knew I'd be out of action in April with the Tiny One on his way. I've shown you some already, but here are those you missed. The three above were made using magazine-page collaging. I like playing around with the colours and patterns to find those that complement. I think the letter cards work best in this format, but I quite like the stylised house I made for my parents' anniversary (it's supposed to look a little like their white house on the river). But is the collage technique a bit of a cop-out? I've been so afraid of making my own art (I was good at age 18. Reader, I lost it. Being good at drawing is not like riding a bike, but like learning a language - show me anyone a decade on from GCSE French who can manage more than a smattering of words and phrases). Maybe I've just been using someone else's art and rearranging it?

With this in mind, I have moved onto collage with colour blocks, ideally suited to a train-loving and dinosaur-loving twosome who turned two in March and April, respectively. It feels a little more like I am the artist when making this style of card (though that's a very glorified title for someone sitting at the kitchen table with glue, sugar paper and the merest sprinkling of creativity).

Prior to this year, I'd not made a card since childhood. This year of card-making was, to be honest, inspired more by lack of money than abundance of inspiration, talent or creativity. But it's brought me a little feeling of each member of this triumvirate. And it's brought me back to my childhood. I think as adults we can lose our ability to play - our creative tinkerings - and I know I had certainly lost mine. Cards are such little things. And yet they send thoughtfulness and caring to their betroved; and yet they require some of that artistic triptych of inspiration, talent and creativity. But they are little enough not to be daunting in time taken or effort required. And for a shy, retired, lapsed artist they are the perfect way to dip my toes back in.

Tuesday 17 May 2011

A touching return

I'm back! And now the mother of three boys. The Tiny One is here, 1.5mths old, and I think we are all beginning to feel a little more settled as he knits himself into the family.

We have good days and bad. The good days are running at about 2:1, and I reckon that's a pretty good score with such a little one.

The good days include getting some domestic tasks completed, because those repetitive tasks each offer a suffusion of success when done, and I cannot get through a day cheerfully without chalking up at least one sensation of success. They include lovely times with one, some, or all the boys, and that perfect selfish-unselfish feeling that comes from being a good mother (give to them, feel chuffed with yourself). They may also, if very lucky, include some achievements that are not the banal domestic (washing up, ironing, etc), but that transcend into domesticity. I have, for example, managed a session of baking, to sew on a button and sew up a slipper, and to paint a large decoration for our window's contribution to 'May Queen'. Those days are the best - a little glimmer of what life will be like when the Tiny One fully settles down, learns how to go to sleep and stay asleep (surprisingly, not a natural instinct), and we can all get on with living rather than fire-fighting.

The bad days usually involve some of my tears, and a lot from the Little One and the Tiny One. The Big One often adds his own contribution, as he tumbles down the hill of childhood into the canyon of adolescence. It wasn't planned this way, but I have managed to have three boys heading into teenage monstrosity (13 this year), toddler tantrums (2 this year), and a newborn all together. What a year it will be! And while the newborn is still so young, and I have had to rewind my life yet again into life with a baby - when I feel disorganised, lost and useless on those bad days - the sense of comfort from where I began this blogging adventure has gone to hide until better times.

Still, the good days win out 2:1!










PS As this blog is called 'a touch of domesticity', and I got carried away with the metaphor and chose to announce the Tiny One's birth with a shot of his hand, I thought I had better give the others a look in. A brief moment of stillness from the Little One (he is always on the go) to the left, and to the right my domestic protege (how do you write French accents on a blog?), the Big One. He has taken it upon himself to make orange and ginger tea. Sometimes I don't notice enough how lovely he is.