Scots, wha hae

Elisabeth is in England. My baby girl off on her own in a far away place we have only dreamed of until now. I think I have spent at least an hour a day crying since she left. Crying because I was frightened of her alone and far away. Crying because I so wanted to be there too, and crying because more than anything else I missed her so much my heart ached.

How very silly I kept telling myself. She is all grown up. How will you cope if she ever moves away? I have come to the conclusion that I simply won't be able to. Even Sarah cried because she missed her sister. What? Is this possible? It would seem they really do love each other.

And me, this woman who is so very much a woman of the past and old fashioned pursuits, thanks the gods for the wonders of modern technology. Not only have I been able to speak with Beth every single day via mobile phone, I have been able to chat with her live on the computer, and literally watch as her latest photos appear like magic before me from thousands of miles away. I could hear the tolling of the bells at Saint Paul's Cathedral, live, as Beth stood outside, and hear the soft Scottish brogue of a man complimenting Beth on her American accent. I heard the wind blow across the water of Port Glasgow as if I were there. And when she was homesick and her heart was breaking, I was there to hear her tears too. Imagine if it took weeks for letters to cross back and forth across the continents. Imagine no phones or electricity in the wilds of Scotland. Imagine the cold abruptness of telegrams. I am glad I live in a very modern age and I can incorporate the old and embrace the new, and appreciate the gifts it brings my life.



In fact, this concept of old and new seems to define Britain as well. So very chic, trendy and hip, with little shops that dispense fresh organic salads, sandwiches and sticky buns faster than you can say McDonald's and a Lush shop on every corner, which must be why all Brits have lovely skin and are stick thin. And all this chic appears to blend seamlessly with old tweedy Britain with its towering edifices of Gothic archways, medieval halls and Victorian memorials. The air in these places actually seems to have weight it is so old. If you like the smell of antique stores or old books, you'll know what I mean, but multiply that aroma by centuries. Elisabeth says she wishes she could bottle it. Around every corner there is history. They have so much history and it is so very everyday and common place, that you wonder if they even really appreciate it. Can they grasp what it's like to have so very little, like America?






Scotland is as you imagine it to be. Pipers piping and every shop window filled with a rainbow of plaid to catch a tourists eye. Rolling hills, misty mountains, and real steam engine trains winding their way through the countryside. Little old ladies line up for the bus with their shopping bags and little old men totter about in woolly cardigans eager to chat up the American who is following the trail of William Wallace. Herds of highland cows, hillsides of heather, streets full of kilts. Scots have a wonderful sense of humor, and they know how to market the hell out of their countries best product.


What is it exactly that makes what is essentially a girls skirt so attractive on a man? Is it those firm Scottish legs? Is it the way the plaid clings so nicely to the bum? Or is it that the men who wear it do so with a certain swagger to their walk? And take a look at the television ads promoting Scottish beef featuring a handsome highlander named Glen. All over Britain women know what they want for dinner...


http://www.qmscotland.co.uk/marketing/beef.html

If you want to see more of Glen, copy and paste the above web address into your browser, and go to the bottom of the Quality Scottish Beef page. Now click the tiny red print that says view television advertising. There are 3 commercials in total.


I was with Beth in Scotland, at one very special spot. Port Glasgow. Standing on the rocky beach as the tide was going out, Beth called me on the phone. I could hear the wind and the water. The ferry boats crossing the water were playing Scots wha hae.




"I'm here mom. I'm standing on the exact spot on the beach from Dear Frankie..." And for those moments across all those miles I was there, standing on the barnacle encrusted pillar where Gerry Butler had once sat. Beth got me a great gift there. A rock all green with moss.

-Tigerlily

If you would like to read more about Elisabeth's Transatlantic Adventure, please visit her blog at: http://ringbright.blogspot.com/

She seeks wool and flax, and works with her hands willingly

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The woman who works with her her hands is only a laborer The woman who works with her hands and her head is a craftswoman The woman who works with her hands, her head, and her heart is an Artist

~St. Francis of Assisi

After what has turned into a long summer hiatus, my blog like Martha Stewart is back on the air. What I may have lost in words I've more than made up for in activity over the last couple months. I have been a very busy person.











I've canned peaches and applesauce. Also made a small batch of apple butter.

























After two summers, the trellis/pergola top for the courtyard fence is done. Now if I could just get to the Kwall store for the paint! (No, I didn't build it, but I had to keep the workman who did supplied with liquids.)











I've framed 3 finished cross stitch pieces. Michaels had their friends and family sale and I got 60% off a frame order. Nice. Never could have afforded them otherwise. I mounted the needlework and Sarah put my backing and hardware on. I love how old the frames look. Unfortunately the frame details don't show up well in the photo.


The sewing projects have been piling up at an alarming rate. Sarah is bringing home fabric faster than I can buy tubs to store it in. She's finished a wine colored Will Turner shirt and a very Twiggy tweed wool jumper. She's neck deep in black fabric for a Snape costume. I've managed to snatch the machine a few hours for myself ...





At long last the new pillows for the family room sofas are finished. They look fantastic. Simple pillow sham construction with iron on velcro closure. Used scotch guard on the fabric so they wipe clean between washings.

A very good thing because...










Elliot thinks the new pillows are great. Here he is defiling them. He has no respect for anything but his own comfort. He is such a pug!



























Here is my French flea market apron. I made it using really cute retro Halloween fabrics from Marcus Brothers and FatQuarterShop.com
















And last but not least...
They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I sure hope that's true because I'd hate to be called a copy cat. A friend of mine, whose blog I discovered while hunting up help with the Charlotte's Web shawl, Nancy, is a very talented lady. She and I have so much in common that I have often told her I wished we were neighbors, or at least lived near enough to visit. She knits and scrapbooks, sews and rubber stamps. We often end up choosing the same knitting patterns and similar yarns without even knowing it. I've watched Nancy's quilt making with awe, but never had any desire to do one myself. Until the day I logged on to her blog and saw her red quilt. I kept going back and looking at it again and again. I wanted it. I began to dream of having it. Desperation drives people to do strange things. It drove me to check out every Kaffe Fassett book the library had. It drove me into scouring the internet for the fabrics. I hope Nancy will understand and be flattered. Here is the finished quilt, I call it the Ruby Quilt after my mother. Red was one of her favorite colors and I think she would love it.


I used Fassett's layout for the Tapestry Garden Quilt. However, when it came to which color block goes next to what my head began to spin. I let the fabrics tell me what felt good and went with it. Beth got so excited as I neared the end, she did the whole lower third. We ended up with too many purple plums in the last row, but who cares? It's gloriously beautiful.We had so much fun that I've ordered fabrics for another. All golden fall rose hips and crab apples.



While it may look like Nancy's in overview, it in no way resembles Nancy's in true beauty or quality of workmanship. I had no end of trouble with it. I made mistakes I never should have made. My impatience got the best of me again, and I paid the price. Forgot to iron the quilt top. Didn't use clear thread for the top, which would have covered so many of my mistakes. I used a spray adhesive for basting the layers together and it worked really well, but the reviewers who said I would not need pins as well were sadly mistaken.




I think my biggest problem was simply dealing with the sheer size. I struggled and struggled with the weight pulling the sewing out of line. Up until now I've kept my time at the machine to short bursts. The weight of the quilt along with the stress and sitting really took its toll on my neck and shoulders. I will never machine quilt another large project. This said, I have fabric for two quilts waiting. What to do? Tie 'em.




I also used Nancy's tutorial for sewing a bag and created this beach bag. It's lined in muslin and even has an inside pocket. Nancy wasn't fooling about it holding six beach towels. This is the beginning of what I hope will eventually be enough bags for my grocery shopping.







They are incredibly cheap to make. JoAnn's always has bolts of home decor fabric on the clearance, and this bag barely cost me $6 and that's with the lining and the webbing for the handles. That beats the store bought canvas bags by $10.

And speaking of grocery bags, here's a great recycling idea from Martha Stewart. Make your own shopping bags out of t-shirts. Sew across the bottom hem of the shirt. Lay the shirt flat and cut off sleeves following seam lines. Cut an approximately 9 1/2 inch 1/2 circle in neck. A bowl works great to use as a guide. Mark a line around the bowl and cut. There you have it, a shopping bag! Put it in your purse and you'll have a bag ready when ever you shop for clothes, books, etc. Make enough, and you can sack your groceries. To add longer life to the bag, zig zag stitch along the cut lines of neck and arm holes. :o)




While I've had great success on the sewing front, my knitting has not been going so well. I'm still struggling with the Shoalwater shawl. I certainly thought I'd be done by now, but it is determined to make my life miserable. If I didn't have so much time and money invested I'd burn it. I could rip it out, but the thought of all the wasted hours makes me sick at the very thought. This is all doubly embarrassing after the quilt debacle and only made worse by all the knitters on line who have made this shawl apparently with little or no trouble at all. Lovely things sit waiting to be cast on but I refuse to give it until this beast has been tamed. I do love this fantastic free trade market basket I found at the Sunflower Market.

He who knows what sweets and virtues are in the ground,
the waters, the plants, the heavens,
and how to come at these enchantments
is the rich and royal man.

~Emerson

Victorian Seaside

As I began this blog entry, the girls were in the air over my head, flying off to San Diego and Comic Con 2007. Mike will be flying out to Long Beach to teach on Monday, the same day the girls are scheduled to return. He'll be making another trip to California just two weeks later, this time to San Francisco. What about me? Best to leave me holding down the fort. Besides, I'm worn out from all the hectic pre-flight prep that's been taking place.

The girls have a friend, Josh going with them this year, and friends on the other end waiting for them, so I certainly feel a good deal better about letting them out from under my wing. They also took Lara Croft, Selene and Gorgo with them...

People wear costumes at Comic Con. Not everyone but lots. It began as comic book characters and has grown to include film characters as well. Beth and Sarah decided they might as well join in. Beth gave Lara Croft a bit of a face lift and Sarah put final touches on her Selene from Underworld. Then I had to open my mouth and say what a cool costume Queen Gorgo from 300 would be, and how no one would be able to pull it off. Make a challenge like that in this house and you've just opened a can of worms. Here, for the first time in public, the unveiling of Queen Gorgo.





Our friend Carlos created this master
piece for Beth from the same Romanian hemp linen used in the film. My search for the fabric is a story in itself. Turns out Hemp Basics supplies hemp fabrics to most major motion pictures needing historic fabrics. Patriot, Pirates I, II, & III, 300, etc.

I made the wolves tooth necklace (resin), Beth got the earrings from Africa, and a wonderful artist on Etsy.com hand forged the cuff bracelet from brass. We took the photos at dusk in a field of prairie grass that now in late summer resembles a golden field of wheat.

Even I find it hard to believe that this beautiful woman is mine. Gerry Butler, you are so missing it....








So, what to do while the girls are gone for 4 whole days and I have the house to myself?

First things first, you revel in not having to cook. Second, you relize how blissfully quiet the house is. Then, you sink into oblivion with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It is a strange feeling knowing that as you sit curled in a corner sobbing through the ending of a book that most of the world is doing it with you. I began to cry at the Battle of Hogwarts, and didn't stop until long after I finished. At one point in the middle of the Kings Cross chapter I had to just stop. I simply couldn't see to read anymore.

When it comes to sad endings, this summer has had more than its fair share. The final installment of Harry Potter came right on the heels of the last Pirates of the Caribbean film and I cried my way through that ending as well.


After I spent a whole day reading Harry, I pondered what to do next. Finish my Lopi sweater. I had gauge issues due to a mistake in the pattern. On top of that the instructions were translated from Finnish so there are some mistakes. Despite problems I really did enjoy making it and look forward to making more. Thank goodness the new Lopi books on the market are a good deal easier to understand than this 1970's pattern! Sarah has laid claim to the sweater, so I bought some inexpensive buttons, tidied up all those yarn ends and crocheted the edging and buttonholes.

I have quite a bit of yarn leftover so I'm making a French Market Bag from a Knitty pattern. I was inspired by the beautiful bags Lene at Dances With Wool made. Lene lives in Finland. Here's here blog: http://www.lenealve.blogspot.com/



Aren't these gorgeous?


















Mine is nothing much more than a blue lump at this point. These types of patterns do require grim determination to get through. You have to keep telling yourself that something beautiful will come out of the washing machine after felting...



And, thanks to all those chiropractic treatments, I can sew again. What a joy. Now that the costume work is out of the way I can have some fun. Aprons have become quite trendy again. Very retro chic. When I was little my mother always wore one to protect her clothes. A carry over from pioneer days that finally went out of vogue in the 60's. I am a slob when I cook and when I eat, and have ruined countless shirts when I got too close to the bleach while cleaning the sink. Hence, I am reviving the apron. The first one was a lovely faded rose print with polka dot ties and pockets from 3 sisters seaside prints. You can see it behind the book and I plan to make two more from these Susan Branch fabrics...





Next will be my first foray into Amy Butler patterns. I'm making the Cafe Apron, but the skirt version. This stack of prints will make up the squares, ties and reverse. Again, all 3 Sisters prints from the Seaside collection.



Last but not least, I have my choice of DVD's to watch. It has rained each evening for the past three, making it ideal for cozying up with some knitting and a movie. Dragged out all my beautiful romantic Victorian favorites. Somewhere In Time, House of Mirth, The Ideal Husband....

Nice. The house is a bit like a tomb though...

Tigerlilly

Shoalwater

Recently learned that some visitors to the Mermaids Chair only come to look at the pictures. Must admit, was rather hurt, but tried to take a carefree attitude punctuated by a giggle as if it didn't matter at all. Upon further mulling I did realize my blogs do get rather long and wordy. Perhaps blogging more often would keep them shorter? For those who like pictures with their reading material ala Dick and Jane books, I will try to keep you entertained. There will still be plenty of knitting porn as long as I have the strength in my fingers to keep knitting.

And since we're discussing the content of my blog? There is a little place, at the bottom of the page called, "COMMENTS," and it sure would be nice if some of you left some. The only comments I've had in the nearly year and a half I've been at this have been from Captain Jack Sparrow, and that doesn't really count since he was only googling himself...




Speaking of knitting here is a photo of my first finished summer project, the Sea Shell Bag from Book 9, Classic Beach by Rowan. I used Rowan Natural Silk Aran yarn in Barley. I've sewn little mother of pearl fish in sea green to the front and lined it in beige linen. It did turn out a good deal bigger than I had pictured it and I have no idea what I will use it for. It would make a great beach bag but I don't have a beach...












Each of my blogs has a title, and the meaning is always somewhere in the blog. Having just written that I realized too late that if you are not reading the blog you probably aren't reading the title either so why am I bothering to explain? CRIPES!


Shoalwater is defined as: Shallow water usually associated with the presence of sand bars below the surface. Sometimes these sand bars are exposed during low tides.
OR:
A sandbank or sandbar that makes the water shallow; specifically : an elevation which is not rocky and on which there is a depth of water of six fathoms (11 meters) or less


I chose the title Shoalwater because it is the name of my newest knitting project, the Shoalwater Shawl by Fiber Trends. This shawl, captures the soft ripple of the quiet water at low tide.

It is hard to see the design this early on, the yarn is so springy I wasn't able to spread it out enough. I chose SeaWool by Fleece Artist, and I love it. This fingering weight sock yarn is made from a combination of merino wool and sea cell, a cellulose-based fiber made from sea weed.

The yarn is incredibly soft, has a nice sheen, and actually retains the scent of the sea, a slightly salty aroma.
I chose the Capri colorway and I think it captures the blues, grays and greens of shallow water really well.
I also purchased several skiens of Sea Silk, a silk and sea cell blend. I'll save that for later...






Then Shoalwater ended up being appropriate for a completely different reason....

Does anyone out there watch Ghost Hunters? We're addicted to it. It is the highlight of our Wednesday evening. We've had countless discussions about what we've seen and heard. Is it real? Ghost hunters is starting a nationwide search for new TAPS members. One of the questions they ask is, "Have you have had a paranormal experience personally? I'd have to answer that with an emphatic yes.

You just have to ask yourself what kind of person are you. Are you the type that sees signs? Sees miracles? Or do you think that people just get lucky? Maybe there are no coincidences. -Mel Gibson, Signs, 2002

I've been having what you could call paranormal experiences since I was a very little girl. I distinctly remember having moments when I could smell my Grandmothers house, a place I only remember visiting once. There have been other things, some my family has experienced and some unique to just me.

Lately, I've been flooding heaven with prayers. Most of them have centered around the same three subjects. After several months, I finally asked God for some kind of sign that my prayers were being heard. I told Him, that I was sorry, that it wasn't a lack of faith, just a lack of patience on my part. To please forgive me ahead of time. I often talk to my parents, especially my mother in my prayers as well. In one very low moment, I wished that she was here to give me a hug, because I needed one so much.

Just a few days later, I received the sign I was asking for. It came in the form of a dream of my mother, and in the dream she didn't say a word, just enveloped me in her arms for the most deeply encompassing hug you could imagine. Yes, He was listening, and she was too.


Its been about two weeks since that event, and in the intervening time, I haven't let up on my prayers. I talk while I work, drive, shower, wherever time allows. And sometimes when life is just really full, I send my thoughts up like little kites to heaven. I imagine them with notes tied to the tail.


And last night, my mother came to me again. Her warm hands enclosed my face, and she called me by a pet name that no one else knows. When I started to talk, "Momma do you know if?..." She shushed me with her fingers on my mouth, "enough." Her voice came into my head, the message clear and strong, "It will all take care of itself in good time." Tears burst from me like a fountain, and I woke with a gasp. I was sure I saw her standing briefly by my bedside. A light from the hall told me that one of the girls was awake. It took all my strength to stay in bed. I wanted to burst through the door yelling, "Did you see her? Is she here? Did you see Grandma?" Instead I lay there in the dark gasping and crying. Elliot snuggled close and licked my face. I'm here my momma, don't cry...

"You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting" -- Author:Tinkerbell

Tinkerbell called it that place between sleep and awake, and yes, that is the place. But, I think I'd call it shoalwater. That quiet spit of sand, exposed only for brief moments when the tide is low. A place where heaven and earth meet briefly. That's where they'll remember you, that's where they'll be waiting.


There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." --From Hamlet (I, v, 166-167)

-Tigerlily

Quartier Francais

Imagine yourself in New Orleans, perhaps walking along Esplanade Street, the air heavy with heat and the hum of bees. The sweet and spicy scent of magnolia mingles with the musky odor of pinks. The trees are thick and shady and dripping in Spanish moss.You turn a corner and find yourself in a perdido jardin, a sanctuaire...




My lost garden, my sanctuary. I have a secluded spot that seems worlds away from the reality of suburban living. This little enclave has quickly become eveyone's favorite place to be. Evenings are heaven. The backyard and patio are just to wide open. Exposed. No one came come out without the dogs raising a fuss. Here we have a bit of privacy.











After 2 summers of waiting, my little New Orleans courtyard has at last begun to take shape. As much as the fence initially made me feel claustrophobic, it is now the buffer between me and the construction going on outside.Construction on our block, the closing out of the development, has made life miserable throughout the spring and shows no sign of abatement as we reach the heat of summer. The noise. The mud. Workers from 7am until sometimes 1am. The cars and construction vehicles making driving nearly impossible...



To walk through the iron gate and find yourself in this unexpected quiet spot; to sit and relax to the singing of the water in the fountain, and the tinkle of wind chimes makes life a bit more bearable...





These are photos of the courtyard as it appears now. The fence is still not finished or painted, but it is on the summer's work list. The fence will be painted the same dark green as the house. The pergola top will shade things a bit more and bring down the endless open sky feeling that it has now, making it yet even more enclosed.

Cool and green and shady....












The ferns hanging from the front porch have the same effect. The feeling is one of security and peace. There was so much more I wanted to do, but money only stretches so far. Next year more urns, and perhaps baskets hanging from the pergola?
It is a work in progress....




The dogs love to lay with their bellies resting on the cool paving stones and be lulled to sleep by the fountain. The bullies think standing in the fountain spray trying to catch water droplets, the best game ever.


The gate provides them with just enough of a window on the world to keep track of dogs out for walks or the squeal of the UPS truck tires.


Here's Forrest doing just that...






Life has slowed to summer rhythm with no classes and few train trips. I caught the scent of freshly mown grass this morning after dropping Beth off. I don't mean the suburban "Dad just cut the lawn smell, " that blend of Kentucky bluegrass and gasoline mower. I mean the fresh cut hay kind of grass smell that evokes memories of country roads, fields and farms. The vortex of childhood opens and visions of roadside farm stands on an early summer morning materialize...

The farmer already beaded in sweat bringing in bushel baskets brimming with sweet corn. Cucumbers still cold, damp and dappled with damp earth from their hiding place under the vine leaves. The old lean two of boards with the "fresh picked" signs are gone, replaced by what I call hydrogen peroxide farmers markets. Here in Highlands Ranch, the farmers market is nothing more than an outdoor Whole Foods store, with gourmet vinegars and fancy pastries, ostrich jerky and fruit smoothies.

I want dirt, and the smell of plants that have been growing in the sun. And, despite my being absolutely terrified of bugs, I even want the occasional worm on my corn. My children have grown up devoid of the aroma of earth on their food, with hydroponic tomatoes and cellophane bagged lettuce mixes. We have planted two small roma tomato plants and some white pumpkins in one of our large pots. We have blossoms, will we have tomatoes?



The Renaissance Faire season is upon us again and opening weekend weather could not have been more perfect. Just warm enough, just breezy enough, not too crowded. Faire always comes around before I'm quite ready. My new corset still unfinished, and unable to even contemplate wearing the leather one, I went without. I wore my new Scottish costume that I had finished too late for last season.

The girls and I posed in a quiet spot for photos.



This year Beth wasn't the only one who got to have her hair braided. My hair was gorgeous from the back, but when I saw myself from the front I looked quite bald. If possible, it was even worse without the hat. UGH. That's $20 I would like to have back....




It was good to see familiar faces, and so many people in costume. Our friend Captain Jack Sparrow was there and recognized Elisabeth right away...



We never get through a fair season without some kind of adventure, and Elisabeth had one that will go down in the annuls of family history. While shopping, Elisabeth and Gretchen stopped to watch the giant swing. Since they had no riders, the men who work the swing had cranked it as high as it would go and were surfing it as it swung. One young rogue wearing a kilt kept calling the crowds to come and see his kilt fly up.

Elisabeth stood watching, and said, "Your going to have to crank that swing back higher than that, because I didn't see a thing." With a sly grin our kilt wearing Scotsman pulled a William Wallace, and Elisabeth saw everything!

Without batting an eyelash our regal Queen reached into her bag and pulled out a gold ribbon. With great flourish she presented it to him.

"I've been carrying this around a long time and I think you should have it."


Gathering up her skirts, she turned and walked away with great dignity. A bit further down the path who should she meet but Captn' Jack carrying a very large pink ice cream sundae.

"What happened love, you look a bit pink?" asked Jack. After hearing the tale of billowing kilts, a brief flash of amazement crossed his face, and then without missing a beat or stepping out of character he said, "I've got whipped cream!"



Can you find the pink ice cream sundae?



The cavalier in this photo had his hat stolen by Jack, and it ended up on Beth's head. She wore it for over an hour before the owner found her and lifted it from her head to reclaim it.

"If my hat was to be stolen, I am thrilled to find such a lovely thing lay beneath it." And with that he fell to kissing her wrist.

Upon arrival home, Beth's first thought was a hot bath...






So endeth this tale of ribaldry.

-Tigerlily