wordless wednesday...

a sea of turtles...

The "Wasn't Me" sailed slowly up the coast, the catamaran riding up and over each swell under a blistering sun. Thankful for the breeze, I sipped my rum & pineapple and watched the shoreline pass by. The boat eased in between two surf breaks and anchored, and a crew member doled out snorkelling gear while another was already in the water, using a bit of bread to lure a green sea turtle to the surface. I stayed on board and snapped my camera as AK bobbed in the turquoise sea, a fat turtle circling him and the rest of the group. Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye, and then we were off again, sailing back down the coast to another destination.

>>>I flashed back to the day before, an entirely different experience:

Our first full day in Barbados, an ease-into-it sort of day. We took the shuttle down to the beach, wandered the boardwalk to soak in the Caribbean view. We took a swim, laughing in the aquamarine waves as we played with the waterproof camera, ducking below in attempts to capture our underwater faces. All too soon we clambered out of the sea and wandered barefoot down the sand to meet AK's grandmother at her rental house right by the next beach over. I marvelled at the hordes of bananaquits flocking to the bowl of sugar hanging on the edge of the porch, and the large black hummingbird flitting in and out.

With our foursome swelled to five, we ambled back down past the beachside bar and onto the sand again. She suggested this beach might have turtles about, but we hardly dared to hope. Once again we slipped into the water, waves crashing over our feet as we waded out toward the reef barrier. A few others played just off the sand, but few ventured out as far as we. A few hundred metres out and the water was still only shoulder deep, a bigger swell lifting us up and off our feet every now and again. And then...there! I was the first to spot a dark head popping up between the ripples. And suddenly it was clear that although a few of the dark shapes visible through the clear water were indeed rocks, several others were moving, young turtles grazing the ocean bottom in this protected bay. I bounced up and down - or as near as one can do under the forces of the ocean - feeling giddy. AK started snorkelling, while his dad and I floated at the surface and tried to follow the turtles as they ate at the bottom and then came up for air at regular intervals. They seemed ambivalent to our presence, mostly continuing their routine. When they moved away concertedly we let them go, watching the dark shape in the clear sea float off towards the reef. The moment felt so special, like a personal experience for just our group. I felt welcomed in by these graceful swimmers, allowed a glimpse into their underwater world. I was reluctant to head in, but knew the two others would be eager to see the turtles too and someone needed to stay on shore with our gear. I sat in the sun, watching happy heads bobbing in the sea.

Finally, with the afternoon waning, we all reconvened on the beach. Feeling wholly welcomed to the Caribbean by one of its most incredible beasts, we enjoyed a fruity drink at the beachside bar, walked back to our home for the week, rinsed our salt-caked bodies, and got ready for dinner. Making plans for the week, we were already talking about another swim with the turtles...



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Today is a quiet Sunday, our plans changed and now a peaceful day at home in the works. The wind is howling with purpose, but I might try for a walk before the rain sets in. What are you up to?

>>> Sarah Britton's life changing bread is resting on the stove before baking. Can't wait to try it.
>>> I also whipped up my full-of-additions (pumpkin seeds, coconut, raw cacao nibs) version of these raw peanut butter cookies.
>>> I may be back in the northern hemisphere, but apparently my mind is still thinking summer, as I contemplate a new pair of sandals.
>>> Need some art inspiration? Check out this amazing piece from Lisa. I'm awed.

[almost] wordless wednesday

We're back! I've got lots of photos to share soon but just wanted to pop in quickly and say hello. Hope you've all had a good week

sunset...

The days are creeping, the light taking just a little longer to fade from the sky.  A walk after work, in the daylight, is becoming a bit more common, a chance for an exhalation at the end of the day. I walked the quiet streets down to the marina to catch the glowing sky over the mountains. The quiet descent into evening on calm seas is interrupted only by the jingle of a cat bell, a fluffy boating feline who lets me give it a quick pet before continuing its twilight rounds. I head out onto the pier to see the orange sunset streaks reflected in the bay. I'm busy shooting, and don't turn at the sound of feet on the wood planks behind me, assuming just another evening walker. But a soft voice lets me know AK has wandered down to join me, and we talk quietly as we navigate the length of the pier. A peaceful moment just the two of us, watching the flush over the snowy island peaks. Flocks of gulls fly overhead, heading to their night roosts. An exhale of breath alerts us to a seal popping up, maybe enjoying the view too. We turn and head home. Another winter's day settles in to night, just a smidge longer than the one before.

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No walks this evening; we're heading out on an overnight flight to the tropics. One of those spots where the sun sets faithfully each night at the same time, with little seasonal shift. I always find that so weird, being in a summery environment and yet the sun dips below the horizon quite early, not like long summer nights up here. Wishing you all a great week and we'll catch up sometime in the next one, okay?

alpine morning...

The Subaru shifts low, working to climb the steepening hill and out of the fog in the valley bottom. I peer through the passenger window at...not much at all, glad I'm not driving as the winding route disappears into the mists. Gradually, slowly, there is a lightening ahead. The fog develops pale blue patches, hints of a clearing to come. The nose of the wagon points forever up, and then we emerge above the clouds into a sparkling winterland.

There hasn't been much snowfall in recent days; December's five metres condensed and settled to a respectable three. The trees cling to a few threatening snow mushrooms that shake off without warning, but mostly the firs and pines thrust skyward in their evergreen hue. Out of the car we remark on the mild temperature, and plans for thick layers get left on the back seat. The air is clear and clean, but not crisp; it feels like April, not the last day of January. The quiet of Thursday on the mountain means everyone is relaxed, not caught up in the bustle of weekend crowds. Under a saturated blue sky we head out from the lodge, crusty snow crunching under our snowshoes as we follow the well-worn path.   The sound overrides the peace of an alpine walk, but it's still a pleasant sound of purpose as we wind our way through the alpine meadows and between stands of shaggy trees. The wide flats mark lakes covered in a sturdy layer of ice and snow. I notice spots that I recognize, where the winter trail rides directly on top of summer's boardwalk, and I contemplate how much snow separates the two. Nordic skiers whizz past on the set trails under a blinding sun, and I think "I should do that more often." But not today.

Before long we are climbing back up the gentle slope to the lodge, exchanging our snowshoes for a casual seat and a hearty lunch. There is more to do this afternoon, but for now a belly full and a mountain view feels pretty good.

the bright brothers...

Because I could use a little colour today. Another day without the sun making an appearance, and possibly not even rising above the horizon, or so it seemed. It has felt dismally dark, and I think there's a drizzle going on out there. Honestly I haven't felt like venturing out, particularly.

But back to the point of this post - a pair of green sea turtles! A pair of fraternal twins, or maybe just brothers. Stitched in large part from vibrant linens from the lovely Carol at Yorktown Road, along with a few other pieces I had. One is a lime green, while the other more of a chartreuse. Both of them are pretty cute, I think. Entirely hand stitched, with all the individuality (and hopefully individual personality) that might imply. They will be available in the shop shortly.

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Also a little notice that the shop will be put on vacation starting Friday, February 8th until the 20th. We are taking a little holiday, to a tropical place where I've got all my toes and fingers crossed that I might actually see a real sea turtle. And while I love all seasons here on the coast, I am also looking forward to a good dose of regular sunshine. So if you were eyeing any items that you would like before then, please purchase this week.

Hope you are all having a wonderful weekend, hopefully with more daylight than we seem to have today.

wordless wednesday...

sunday meander...

I'm sure the last thing you want to hear is more complaining, but I'm feeling a little disgruntled today. I hope you'll bear with me. We have a friend visiting from out of town and he and AK have headed up to the mountain today to enjoy the snow. But I got left at home this morning, due to a relapse in a back injury that has left me not moving much. This is day three and I'm still waiting for some signs of improvement.

Nonetheless, I can sit well enough, and so if I can organize myself to get all my materials within reach, I have a good excuse to stay put and work on some projects. There is a green sea turtle started, and I'm hoping to cut out a second so that I might have two finished by next weekend. On stitching breaks I am knitting a row or two on AK's sorely neglected (but 3/4 done!) socks, and I've got a hand stitched skirt in progress too. If I can't be sliding down sparkling snow with mountain peaks surrounding me, at least I can be cozy on the couch with stitching in my hands and a little sun filtering gently through the window behind me.

Last week I finally finished off another project that has been a long time coming. Sometime in the fall I started knitting on a cardigan in squishy Cascade Eco Wool. Halfway through I began to develop doubts about it, but I pushed on. When it was finished I knew as soon as I pulled it on that it was not going to work. Even the ever-diplomatic man had to admit that the shape was just not fitting me properly. Nuts. Knowing I could so easily tuck it in a corner and avoid it, I decided to suck it up and frog it immediately, then start again. Thankfully, the second go turned out much better and I've added another cozy handknit cardigan to the slowly growing collection. This is a simple shape inspired by Aidez, which I have knit before, along with a vest variation. What can I say, the shape works for me. This version though was a considerable departure from the original pattern, really only using the general raglan idea and some of the shaping. This cardigan is knit in the round from the bottom up, and joined with the sleeves (also in the round) to finish the yoke, with the cabled collar wrapping around to the back (there are also cables up each arm, which is hard to see in the photos). I then knit pockets directly onto the front, so that when finished, I managed to make it so I only had to sew in the ends and close up the small opening under each arm. There is certainly a place for seams, but I think the fit on this came out very well without. I also did only 3/4 sleeves, partially because I end up folding up my cuffs often through the general tasks of my day, and partially because I was unsure if I would have enough yarn. I used two balls of Eco Wool, with only a small portion left over, so there definitely wouldn't have been enough for full length sleeves.

What are you up to this weekend? Are you knitting or making anything you want to share? Leave a link in the comments and I'll be sure to check it out.

new turtle...

A little variation on the green sea turtle took shape this week. Some fabrics came out of the dye pot in wonderful olive tones (my apologies, I've completely forgotten what the dye bath was made from!) and an Olive Ridley turtle seemed completely appropriate. This little fellow is entirely hand stitched, and all fabrics (cottons, linen, silk) used are natural dyed by me. Feels like a 'complete' sort of piece, when I think of how much my own two hands put into this turtle. If you like the feel of it too, he will be in the shop later today.

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>>>some thoughts on making...
I have talked a lot recently about getting back to making pieces for the shop more regularly, producing more, and more often. But I've come to realize that may not necessarily happen, and as there have been some recent inquiries I thought you deserved a little bit of an explanation.

Please understand first off that I very much appreciate all you folks who are interested in my work, whether you purchase something or just share your words of encouragement. It is very rewarding to make something with your own hands that others respond to so positively. But.

When I first got into selling things online, I quickly got into a rhythm of working all day at my job and then coming home and sewing much of the evenings and weekends. After a time, I was pretty intent on keeping interest on my making, and started to feel guilty if I wasn't stitching in my free time, or stitching or crafting on something personal rather than for the shop. I am a pretty slow maker, so I was trying to make up for that by making any chance I got. It probably doesn't help that I have pretty heavily ingrained beliefs that I always need to be "productive" and should also be doing something "useful". But we won't get into the psychology behind that for just now. Anyway, then came the forced respite of my broken wrist last year. I tried to get back into it once I healed, but a number of events and distractions kept me from ever getting back to my old pace again. Moving in the fall, and the subsequent disorganization / re-organization of my craft materials (and my life) made it easy to let days slip by without picking up a needle. I let go of the 'guilt', letting this break become a new sort of rhythm that eased my sore fingers and tired back.

I don't handle stress well. Not at all. I read something recently about people with my particular date of birth (and yes, please give such generalizations a healthy bucketful of salt) - that we often reach a place in our careers where we are comfortable, and make no further attempts to progress or be challenged, because don't want to deal with the potential stress. That definitely struck a chord with me, and might be at least partially true. And whether I should just buck up and learn how to handle a bit more stress, there is no denying that it doesn't suit me particularly well. Stress affects me mentally and physically (and there is no denying two jobs and a side hobby that all require lots of sitting and repetitive motion are not good for the body). My previous making habits were just not sustainable. So I've come to accept that free time can be a good thing, and sometimes a very necessary thing. Time to go for a long walk, time to escape for a weekend, time to just spend with friends and family. And yes, even time to occasionally just do nothing.

For now anyway, I have decided I can only do what I can do. Pieces will continue to trickle into the shop, and while I appreciate your interest I have decided to not accept custom orders for at least the next little while. Your interest in my work is very heartwarming to me, so thank you for sticking around even if I am not the most productive of makers. Wishing you a very happy weekend and I see the sun is making a lazy attempt to peer through the grey clouds. Time to get out for a walk, I think.

a little tangent...

Carrots & chickpeas spiced with chili/cumin/chipotle and roasted, topped with cucumber, (homemade) guacamole, sprouts and jalapeno salsa.



Pasta with sundried tomato, spinach & walnut pesto.



Sweet potato, swiss chard & black bean enchiladas with a little Daiya cheese, later topped with a tomato/jalapeno/almond milk sauce and baked.



Coconut/lime/chili/garlic quinoa, with carrots, cucumber, sprouts, snap peas & avocado, wrapped in rice paper rolls



Whole wheat pizza dough, topped with artichoke lemon pesto, kale, mushrooms and crumbled nut/nutritional yeast blend.



Chickpea mushroom potstickers and spicy sautéed cabbage with walnuts.



Jamie Oliver's roasted carrot & avocado salad. Has been a long time favourite.



Bell pepper & jalapeno quinoa, red beans, chipotle cauliflower, avocado & pepper jack Daiya in a multigrain wrap.



Vegan alfredo sauce with kale & mushrooms, over homemade fusilli pasta (yay new pasta maker!).

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I don't do many posts about food. Not because I don't love food - we eat quite well around here generally, and I think I'm pretty good in the kitchen. But I don't feel qualified to share any recipes (I am terrible at following recipes, and most things I come up with myself evolve with each making as measuring is also not a key skill of mine). But as I am currently doing 30 days of vegan eating, I've been trying to make more of an effort to document the tasty things I'm feeding us with (AK is not doing vegan alongside me, but has been eating most of the vegan dinners I've made) over on instagram. So far I think it's going quite well, and it has also pushed me to expand my repertoire a bit, as it is all too easy to get in a "what's for dinner?" rut. I've been mostly staying away from processed vegan foods (although I do like Field Roast sausages), and I'm not a big fan of tofu. After 19 days I am starting to run dry on inspiration, but persevering nonetheless. Tonight there are mushrooms stuffed with a mixture of roasted red peppers, walnuts, pepitas and a few other things roasting in the oven.

If you're vegan or vegetarian, what are your favourite recipes? Actually, whatever you love to eat, I'd love to hear it. I'm always looking for tasty meal ideas. And if you're looking for recipe ideas, I also have some inspiration going over on Pinterest.

wordless wednesday: night falls

snow bird...

All this talk about birds, and I thought perhaps it was time to stitch a new one up. I have been thinking about ptarmigans for awhile, and their snowy winter plumage appeals to the starkness and neutral palette I often appreciate at this time of year. This white tailed ptarmigan came together slowly, as most things seem to do these days, but I'm quite pleased with the results. It is entirely hand stitched in linen and quilting cotton that has the faintest botanical print, with fabric wrapped wire feet for an appropriately fluffy appearance.

I have only seen a real white-tailed ptarmigan, this smallest of the grouse family, once. A bewildered little white creature hunkered down in the snow in the middle of a ski hill as boarders and skiers raced around it, most none the wiser. It was barely visible but for its dark eyes and beak, a perfectly camouflaged animal for winters on rugged alpine peaks.

This little bird has flown into the shop.

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I am so enamoured by the Avett Brothers lately. This song especially is a favourite.

making / gifting...

You've likely decided by now that I don't craft much anymore. This is partly true - I seem to have a very tenuous grasp on inspiration and motivation these days. But I'm working on it: a little winter bird has taken shape this past week and should be ready for the shop this weekend, once I have a chance to photograph it in some proper light. I am glad we are over the hump, so to speak, and returning to longer days, but so far daylight is a rare commodity. I would even venture that the sun didn't come up at all yesterday, a swirling wet squall of a day. Hopefully there will be more pieces taking shape soon too.

But! Back to the point of this post. There was some crafting in those dark December days, right before that gift-centric holiday. The last minute scurrying and bustling that makes one's fingers ache, when family members request handmade gifts without always recognizing that these things take time. But as I find it hard to say to no to a family member who actually, really, wants a handmade gift, a few things came together just in time for the big day. Two quick wooly toques for the nephews, spruced up with knitted ears for fox (for the one who likes orange) and wolf (for the littlest one who is less decided about favourite colours). A cabled toque in superwash for my other sister, the one who can't be trusted with proper washing of woolens (she knows it's true!).

And an experiment of sorts; prototypes, if you will. Inspired by other braided yarn necklaces and woven pieces I have seen online, I decided to make a few of my own to give. These pieces are woven in varying strands of cotton and wool, to add texture and dimension. Lastly I bound the blue one with a piece of navy leather, and the purple with a strip of naturally dyed silk. I may try playing around with these a bit more, trying naturally dyed yarn, longer and fewer strands, and so on. I'd definitely like to make one for myself but who knows, something may even end up in the shop. :)

Did you do any holiday gift crafting this past year?

oceanside dining...

Back to the point on Tuesday, a breath of fresh air to bring in the new year. The birds were waiting for me. The tide was out when I stepped out of the truck, and I clambered straight out across the rocks with my eye on a great blue heron perched just off the waterline. But to my left another dark shape caught my attention - an immature bald eagle waiting in the driftwood, standing over the carcass of the seal I spotted the other day. I weighed my options - who could I sneak up on first? The heron seemed settled, and I know from experience they can stand for seemingly infinite periods, waiting for a fish to come within the grasp of that long sharp beak. The eagle though, was a flight risk, literally.

Decided, I tucked back along the high tide line, out of sight of the bird of prey for the moment. I stepped from rock to rock, trying to avoid any loud noises that would alert him to my approach. As I came around the curve of the shoreline I spotted his dark head poking up from the driftwood. I ducked down a bit, navigating through the jumble of washed up logs and breakwater boulders until there was nowhere left to hide and I was about 40 feet off. The eagle knew I was there, although it wasn't inclined to acknowledge me in any way. I snapped a few shots. Scooched to the next boulder. Snapped a few more. Other folks out for their New Year's constitutional were noting my progress and politely gave me and the eagle a wide berth. I checked on the heron, down at the water's edge. A woman was ambling toward it, her camera held up to shoot photos. She continued her steady forward progress until the heron upset and flew off down the coast, and I wrinkled my nose. Yes, it could easily be argued she and I were doing the exact same thing. But her clumsy approach had me feeling unjustly superior, and I was disappointed my chance at shooting the heron was gone.

The eagle, though, was unperturbed. I slipped to the next rock, then the next. It let out a squawk and ruffled its feathers, and then surprised me by actually hopping along the driftwood toward me. The dead seal was between us, although much closer to him, and the bird was ready for another meal.  The eagle flapped his wings for balance as it hopped from log to log and then to its prize. I wedged myself between two rocks, a large boulder serving half as blind and half as tripod, and suddenly there was only 20 feet between us. The bird set to work, tearing at the blubber and looking up every few bites to check for other eagles. For the most part it didn't seem concerned with me. After it ate, the eagle perched on a log and wiped his beak clean.

A little old lady came determinedly along the beach, spotting me only as she came up just beside me. It took her a moment to follow my pointing to the feathered beast right in front of us. She smiled, listened politely as I spouted some eagle trivia, and then proceeded on her route along the high tide line. The eagle waited as she closed in, then spread its impressive wingspan and swooped off and away. Content, I unfolded from my own perch and headed down the beach for a walk.

birds of winter...

I couldn't get warm yesterday. A deep chill set into my bones from the moment I got up and wouldn't leave. Even after a hot shower. Ever after I layered myself in a hodgepodge of woolens. My feet warmed up when I put on my new Sorel boots (I think AK was tired of hearing me complain about cold feet), but the rest of me kept shivering. Still, I headed out into the chilly air just the same.

Now is the time for birds. Sure, many of these winged things are here year round, but with the bushes bare and food supplies short, many of them seem more visible. There are the little birds that flit around my house, eagerly snapping up the seed and chattering hello. I lose track of time watching the suet disappear beneath a flock of bushtits, or seeing how close the chickadees will let me get as I climb the stairs outside. And then there are the big migrators, the largest of the bunch the trumpeter swans that infiltrate our valley each winter. The empty farm fields I drive past on my way to work are dotted with their fat white bodies plucking at the last seeds and kernels left after harvest. The skyline is dotted too with their v-shaped journeys, honking as they pass overhead. And there are all manner of in-betweens. The plump Canada geese that suddenly look tiny against the swans. Mallards and mergansers foraging and fishing in the estuary. The massive grey bodies of herons resting on stilt-legs as they do the same. I even spotted the tiny green shape of an Anna's hummingbird, feathers fluffed up to double his size as he sticks out the winter.

And now too, is the time for bald eagles. As we head into the first couple months of the year, their see-all eyes watch from every tree and elevated perch. Conserving energy in this time of little food, they gather in large numbers out along the shores and sometimes do little but sit in a tree all day with 10 of their friends. Yesterday on my beach walk I watched the dark shapes far up each nearby tree. I focused on the nearest bird, halfway up a slope in a ragged, stunted fir, and made my way across the rocks. Suddenly, not 10 feet in front of me, a massive dark shape flew up from the driftwood at the base of the hill and soared off in an arcing circle over my head. A juvenile eagle, blending in to the shore in its mottled brown and white plumage. Still, I shook my head at not noticing this big bird of prey right under my nose. Nearly under foot, too, was the reason for his beach foray - a dead harbour seal, belly already ripped open by those hungry birds. I've witnessed this before, and cursed myself for walking with blinders on and missing another opportunity to watch these majestic birds in action. I found myself a rock a bit down the beach to give them lots of room to return, and hunkered down to wait. The glamourous life of a wannabe wildlife photographer. The clunk of shells hitting the rocks kept me company, seagulls wheeling up to drop oysters and clams and then returning to claim their broke-open meal below. But the eagles sat patiently up in their trees, the deep chill of the rock wasn't helping my already cold bones, and after a good half hour watching a brave gull perch atop the seal I let them be. Maybe another day.

The year is wrapping up tonight, and what a tumultuous one its been. I could use a little quiet in the new year - how 'bout you? I'm not much for resolutions, but I'm attempting to start the year off fresh and clean, eating vegan for the month of January. I don't have any particular beliefs about the whole thing, but think my body could use a reset right now. I did a trial meal last night, a hearty lentil, mushroom & kale shepherd's pie to fight the cold and it was delicious. If you're interested I may share more of my recipes or thoughts on this plan as it goes. But we'll see how I do after a month with no cheese or eggs. Tonight though, there are no rules, and we're heading out for a year end special meal. It'll be a quiet night; dinner, movie, ball drop. And tomorrow I'm sure there will be some fresh air to embrace the new year. Wishing you and yours a happy new year filled with joy and cheer.