This is the time of year when most people are desperately seeking spring. Although I admit that on the wettest of dreary days I do pine for the sunshine and growth of spring, for the most part, I actually love winter!
Overall, if it comes right down to it, I prefer cold temperatures when you can bundle up and feel the freeze of your cheeks and thighs when out walking. This year, to my taste, has been great for the amount of snow we’ve received.
Earlier in the week, the snow had cleared, the sidewalks were gritty, and the smell of wet grass was in the air. “Ahh, its coming,” we all thought as our spirits buoyed and our paces quickened. But this morning, we awoke to a glorious sight.
There is nothing more beautiful, and inspiring, than naked black tree boughs under a burden of fat, fluffy, new snow. I couldn’t resist posting this series of backyard pics. I know they will inspire me for quilting, or needlework, or printing…or something, but in the meantime, I’m going to go out and breathe in the freshness of what very well could be our last snow of the year! Enjoy.
I am the first to admit that in precedent times, I have been known to occasionally succumb to bouts of self-prescribed retail therapy, but during lockdown–arguably a most desperate and unprecedented of times–what was a gal to do?
Well, I decided to throw caution to the wind and try online ordering with curbside pickup. I found it wasn’t really as satisfying as an in-person session–and it led only to the need for follow-up sessions.
My downfall: fabric. I have uncountable stashes of fabrics, yarns and notions of every kind, some dating back as far as the mid to late 1970’s, but that is beside the point.
On a particularly dreary day in December, I hankered for some boiled wool. In fact, lots of boiled wool. In lots of colours. As luck would have it, while reclined on the couch arduously surfing my phone, I noticed it was deeply discounted at a local shop and was offered through curb-side pickup! I was quick to imagine it into all sorts of artistic creations.
At first, the online order option went smoother than expected. I spent and hour or so browsing and submitted my modest test order electronically. Within hours, I received a follow-up call and had a very helpful assistant walking the floors as my surrogate shopper doing her very best to describe options and colours. “Yes,” she assured me, “we have lots of boiled wool. I’m standing right in front of it.”
My excitement picked up. “Great! What colours?”
“Blue,”she said.
“What shade of blue?” I pressed.
“Hmm, kind of dark,” she offered.
Okay, I could see this wasn’t going to be the nuanced description of shade I expected. Nevertheless, I carried on. The price was so good, what did I have to lose? Might as well throw in some threads and notions for good measure.
Not three hours after placing my now hefty order, I was off to the curb for pick-up. I texted from the car, donned my mask, and skipped up to the store. The door opened a sliver and my gargantuan bag was handed out. No questions asked. Not a word spoken. Minimal human contact.
Before starting the car, I shredded open the package like a six-year old with a birthday goodie bag. Stacks of fabric! All carefully cut in .5 meter pieces! All colours! None as described. Sadly, none boiled wool.
It does contain wool, even if not boiled!
Oh well, it does contain wool, and it was colourful. I’d had an outing, and I was optimistic that I’d be able to re-vision my ideas.
In fact, I already have… In my next blog I’ll tell you about the in-person-follow-up session that led to a faux-fur frenzy, and creation of what I now call ‘the beast’!
