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.

then again...

Perhaps Mother Nature took my last post as a bit of a challenge. The snow set in heavy last Sunday night, and we tromped through the blanketed streets of our little town. In the morning the skies had cleared up, but the snow lay thick on the ground. Through the week it mostly rained, but every now and again it shifted into wet snow, never accumulating to much, but keeping the air cold and raw.

It rained through the night on Friday, but as I headed into town on Saturday morning for some last minute Christmas shopping, the rain got thicker and thicker until heavy white flakes dropped soddenly from the sky. Things started to whiten up considerably as I navigated the busy shops to get myself out of the holiday rush as quickly as possible. As I wove the truck back along the estuary road, I had to stop to capture the scene, the quiet welcoming of winter. A walk was definitely in order, winding along the still shore through sloppy white flakes. At home several deer hunkered down in the yard most of the day, leaving behind bare ovals on the grass surrounded by white when they left as darkness came on.

And yesterday, Christmas day. The last remnants of snow on the ground on Christmas Eve got watered down with more heavy rain through the night. The morning woke wet again, grey and green. But as the afternoon wore on, the rain turned white and soon enough the mossy bluffs in front of my parents' home were blanketed. I dragged my mom and AK out for a walk in the last of the day's light, along the slushy road and out to get a misty view across the water. There's some more snow in the forecast to cap off the year and bring us into the new.

Of course if I really want snow around here, I point the truck uphill, up the winding mountain road where the snow piles up on either side high above the vehicles. I took in a little night snowboarding last week, and savoured the morning powder today. We are closing in on a five metre snow base up there, which is ridiculous for December, and the continuing cold temps mean the conditions are wonderfully powdery. My new job this year includes a seasons pass, so fair warning that I might be boring you with snow adventures until April.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday, if you celebrate. And that you're winding up the year with a bit of time for stillness and calm in all this rush. We could all use a little recharge, I think.

this is winter on the coast

We don't get a lot of snow out here. Sure, it piles up in the mountains above us, often tantalizing close, just a couple hundred feet up. But down here on the coast of Vancouver Island the white stuff rarely falls. A couple of times a year the biting chill of an Arctic outflow comes down out of the mainland inlets, settling in for days with bright, clear blue skies and frozen temperatures. But soon enough the prevailing southeasterly winds find their way back in with their dark clouds dense with moisture, and a heavy snow falls on the frozen landscape. The white blanket lasts a few hours, sometimes even a few days, but eventually, always, it turns to rain. In all my 33 years, I think I could comfortably count on one hand the number of white Christmases I have seen.

Winter on the coast is a lot more like yesterday. Waking in the wee hours all snug in my bed, the wind careens past the house like a freight train. I roll over and tuck back in, but the rush of wind and driving rain on the window keep sleep away. All morning the puddle fills up where the driveway meets the road, and little birds puff up and try to keep warm in the wind, flitting through the bare honeysuckle branches by the hanging suet. I keep expecting to see an old woman riding a bicycle fly past the window. Finally, into the afternoon, the rain lightens, just a little. Bundled up, I head out to explore. Here on the coast we don't often get the frozen winter temps so many other see. But there is a persistent dampness to the air that helps the gale howling up the strait cut through to the bone. In the forest the trees sway and shudder, the creek rushes its way to the sea; the outside world disappears in the wind. A couple brave souls pass me on the beach and we exchange frozen smiles before tucking our heads against the wind again.

This is winter on the coast. We hunted for a Christmas tree for my parents this afternoon in between the rain drops, winding our way through dripping branches. The tree brought home, lit up and covered in decorations, a holiday contrast to the grey and brown world outside. We ate æbleskiver and celebrated the third Sunday of advent as another storm came in. The seas rolled underneath the ferry as we crossed the water again to get home.

And yet...as if to make an exception, prove me wrong...on the drive home the rain looked distinctly thick on the windshield in the dark. As we turned inland there was no denying the snow, piling up on the road in front of us and flying toward the car in a hypnotizing swirl. Back at home closer to the ocean, the ground was still mostly mud, but the white stuff continued to fall heavily. Now it has piled up quickly and we're considering a night walk around the block. Because around here, you never know how long it is going to last...

and the rain came down down down...

this photo doesn't have much to do with today, as it is from our kayaking trip last August. yet something about staying dry with a mug of tea while watching the rain come down made me think of it.

Today started in the dark, as AK rolled over to hit the snooze button time and again before finally rising to head to work. The eagles must have heard the alarm too, sounding some morning vocals from the tree outside the window. I lay snuggled in bed, not quite ready to give up the warmth of the duvet and start the day. But I was up before long, trying to warm my bones under the shower's stream and watching rain fill up the puddles in the driveway. The woods were calling but the steady downpour keeps me inside, ever so slightly shifting to something a bit thicker, a bit slushier now and then. I find myself more sensitive to the cold this year, feeling a chill more quickly, and the damp rawness of today is no different. I make myself a giant cup filled with hot water, grated ginger and lemon zest, stirring in a spoonful of golden honey.

December is racing by already, and Christmas is fast approaching without much ready for giving. The same old story. Slowly (the keyword of my now despite the rush of the world) I pull out some ornaments, try to add a bit of holiday cheer to the house. This week maybe there will be a tree. A bit of woolen gifting takes shape in my stiff fingers. The house fills up with the smell of peanut butter cookies. Tonight there is a holiday party, for the man's work, and I must decide what to wear, to make myself presentable. Again and again I pause at the windows, to watch the birds flitting about outside, between the suet and seeds and the shelter of the hedges.

Hmmm, this post is beginning to sound very much like last weekend's... The sun never made an appearance today and already the little light that showed up is fading. These darkest days are hard on the spirit. Instead I do my best to fill the house with light - candles, and now little twinkly bits of seasonal cheer. Do you do the same?

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>> I'd love to add these twinkly constellation lamps to my darkness-fighting arsenal. Same goes for these snowflake lights
>> This amazing work by Anna Slezak has me thinking of getting back to weaving.
>> A wooden reindeer like this is the sort of holiday decoration I'd want to keep out year round.
>> And if you need a sweet treat to cap off your weekend, these peanut butter brownies sound both delicious and surprisingly healthy.

wordless wednesday

today, in puddles.

December blew in on the ragged teeth of a southeaster. Not particularly cold. No. Yet there is a persistent dampness now, a west coast specialty that seeps into the bones with its chill and settles there for the winter if you're not paying attention. The skies looked both promising and threatening as I stepped out for a morning walk, after crawling reluctantly from the warm bed. I soon learned the latter was the truest, gentle drops spreading out in the puddles turning into a deluge in the blink of an eye. Beware the sucker hole. I slipped through the woods, pausing for a reprieve under a big tree, the small roof of a park sign, the lee side of a tall hedge. My usual loop was curtailed by the surge high tide, driftwood knocking together gently in the remains of storm swells, at the very edge of the forest. I backtracked in the downpour, along the creek that was swelling its banks. All the wild beasts seemed hunkered down too; only one doe and her fawn lingered in the park, and the little chickadees seemed the only birds braving the rain to say hello. I decided my own lingering was through and headed back home to get dry.

Back at home there was puttering to be done. An adventskrans of sorts to prepare for tomorrow's first lighting. The contemplation of the other holiday ornaments, and where they might fit in our new house. All that cleaning that gets neglected during the busy weekdays. Dishes. Starfish stitching. Finally completing and hanging the pinecone garland I've been thinking about for weeks. Watching the wee birds that flit to the suet outside the kitchen window. All while the rain fell steadily outside. You know, a whole lot of nothing that seems like something at the time.

How was your Saturday?