Assortment

Stitch

So, while I was sitting there in the middle of that sea of green grass, in the middle of summer in winter, or winter in winter (or whatever it is), I began working on this:

 

A picnic blanket for lunches (and naps) upon the green green grass. 

 

A picnic blanket top with embroidered ants trekking across it, because we all know that ants are at every picnic.

(The ant on the left is perky and moving along at a pretty good clip.  I think he's headed straight for the dessert.  The ant on the right, well, he needs to head straight for the protein.  In a bad way.  Poor fella.)

 

I love it when tucked away fabric and tucked away magazine images collide and become something to keep sitting moments filled with making. 

It's my take-along project that's in my bag, ready to go. 

My Apologies

 

I'm sorry.  So very sorry.  I am.

Forgive me for showing you this picture.  

How could I do such a thing when most of you are looking out your windows at snow right now, and your outdoor thermometers are registering bitterly cold, nose-hair freezing temperatures? 

I'll (try to) explain.

But, before I do that, it would be good if you lifted your head straight up off your body, turned it around, and stuck it back on, because that is what it takes sometimes to get your mind wrapped around winter in Florida, especially if your're a northerner, born and bred. 

Now, back to the explaining.   It's really all about location, location, location, as they say.  That's how you come across green grass in January.  It's like summer in winter, only not.  It's really winter in winter, but not exactly. 

As you can see, it lends itself to a lot of general confusion.  Then, in the middle of the mental month/season/green grass/ no snow/where in the heck are we (?) cacophony, you read that the State Fair is coming up in less than two weeks, and it Freaks. You. Out.

Even after four years.  

And then you throw up your hands and wonder aloud, State Fair in January?!  What will they think of next? 

Well, there's no tellin', that's what. 

But in the mean time, you can just sit your short-sleeved self down in that deep green grass, draw the fresh air into your lungs, look up at the sharply blue sky, and not muddle your brain for a second about where you are or what month it is. 

Not a shave of a second.

January Girls

 

I know they're more of a holiday thing, Paper Whites (Narcissus).  That's when you see them in the stores alongside their showy neighbors, the Amaryllis.  But, I don't know, somehow I wanted them in January this year. 

December need not pout about that.  After all, she gets the velvet ribbon, the evergreen, the glitter, the tinsel, and the twinkly lights.  January gets nothing.  Nothing except maybe a few battered cardboard boxes passing through from every closet in the house, headed for the attic, their contents scrawled on their sides in ugly black marker. 

You can probably see clearly now why I plunked down the $2.00 at a thrift store awhile back for this pot, and why I plunked down the discounted $3.00 price for the box of Paper Whites.  I knew you'd understand.  

January needed something special.  And these girls are.  

It seemed to me that they could bridge the winter/spring divide like none other.  They start out looking closed up and wintry with their bulb skin wrappings drawn up around their shoulders and their pale noses just peeking out, but come February, they'll be giving a good showing of their slender, green leaves, and their ruffled, pure white petals will be dancing around them like so many flouncy skirts.  Oh, and the scent will be like a spritz of spring every time someone walks by. 

Sigh.  A spritz of spring! 

(I have to say that it's just like January to pass the girls on to February when it's time for her to wave her farewell in her sweet January way.  After all, February does have a holiday to prepare for.)

   

I'll be here, anxiously fussin' over 'em.