Category: Needlework

  • Another Catch-Up Post

    Still April.  

     

    And another blog post.  I should celebrate successes as they materialize.  I am working on a book post, but it is coming slowly.  This is primarily because I am still struggling with being over-tired, with doing too much, and learning to accept that normal, even at the still-tender age of almost 66 is not what normal was even a few years ago.

     

    That said, even though I feel overwhelmed, and like I have been frittering my time away, this is not exactly true.

     

    There has been sewing, mostly simple.

    Crosses

     

    Two cross covers, one in lenten purple, one in holy week red, for my church.  These were additions to the set of each made last year, to accommodate a new processional cross. 

     

    Red

    And one simple garment for me, this a chiffon cardigan to wear to an event.  The dress was already in my closet.  The cardigan is red silk chiffon and is a fairly simple garment to make.  I did use a pattern for this, Marfy 3303 which is one of the "free" patterns included with the purchase of the Marfy 2014/2015 annual catalog.  The pattern picture is shown below:

    Marfy 3303

    There are two pattern pieces, two front pieces and two back pieces which are seamed at the center.  You would think they are rectangles, but they are not, part of the genius of the pattern.  Tucks are made at each shoulder, and there is a side seam, but it is in the interior of the cardigan, allowing the edges to float and flutter freely, as if the cardigan were simply a shawl.  The clever cutting and seaming allows this to fit and flow on the body nicely, and also to stay in place when one is dancing.  Always an advantage in my book.

     

    Baptisms

    I also made six baptismal towels, four in March, for Easter Sunday. 

    Baptism

    And two more two weeks later.    Each towel is made by hand from ecclesiastical weight linen, with hand embroidery and hand hemmed.  The entire process takes me somewhere between 8 to 13 hours, the variation depending mostly on the baby's name.  the  shortest of these took me 8 1/2 hours, and the longest slightly over 12, or somewhat over 70 hours total for the six towels, but less than 80 hours.  I love doing this, and I am sure I could find a faster way, but at the moment this is still a labor of love.

     

    Ribbon1

     

    There has been some knitting progress, but nothing has been completed.  I am still working on the ribbon cardigan.  As much as I love both knitting and ironing, I find that this project tests my patience.  I may like to iron but ironing yards upon yards of rayon ribbon flat is tedious at best.  I have just finished ironing the third 100-yard skein of ribbon.  I need to wind it on a spindle, after which I can knit another section of the sweater.  The knitting itself is also slow, fun, but slow.  There have been evenings in the past month where one row of the twisted basketweave stitch is all I can accomplish of an evening.  Of course, the body of this cardigan is being knit in one piece, so the rows are not short.  Sometimes self-justification is all that keeps us going.  I know that I will love this cardigan.  I love the fabric that I am creating.  But it will be a long time before I take on another ribbon sweater.  I will be happy if I have finished this by fall, which is, realistically, as soon as I would wear this sweater anyway.

     

    Crows1

     

    Greater progress has been made with "Murder of Crows".  I finished the body of the sweater and have picked up the first sleeve.  This too will be a fall sweater, although there are still early mornings in the garden which would be cool enough to wear this sweater, were it finished.    I really like the way this sweater is turning out and knitting it has reminded me that, as much as I love complicated texture and color work, patterns that require thought, it is also very good to have a simple mindless project on the needles. Pardon the dark photo — an unblocked sweater on a dark background,  taken on a deeply cloudy day.

     

     

     

  • What IS This Blog?

    The simple answer:  a journal, an online journal if you will, not entirely private, but a journal nonetheless.

    PXL_20230528_142115262

    I realized I had lost something, something important, and it took me a little while, and a bit of soul-searching to figure out what.  It seems that the internet, online communities, and social media have all moved on, but I have not.  I started this blog, or at least its previous iterations, as a way to keep a record for myself, yes one that I shared, but nonetheless a modified personal journal.  At first it was about sewing and knitting and eventually my general observations on life.  These were things I could have committed to paper, but I have a history of tossing bits of paper, including journals and sewing notebooks.  The internet remains here, although I suppose even it is not permanent.  

     

    I don't mind people reading what I write; in fact it even makes me happy to hear from readers.  But I remain opposed to the idea of marketing, of packaging my blogs to fill a niche, to catering to the reader.  I suppose I reject the idea of the curated life, at least the curated life as it reflects outside expectations.  I do curate my life; most of us do to some level or another, but I curate my life for my own joy, and increasingly I feel that outside expectations do nothing but hamper that joy.  

     

    I suppose posting to Facebook was my first mistake.  Initially, I did so at the request of a friend, so she could access the blog easily.  But then it became something else.  I was never shy about telling people I knew that I blogged; most of the time my friends thought it was something weird, and if they read my blog, they did not, for the most part tell me so.  But once I posted to Facebook, more and more people I knew would comment on my "secret" life, and I found myself wanting to please readers, sometimes at the expense of pleasing myself.  I was trained to achieve, to please, to rise to meet expectations, and I find I had not quite fully escaped those shackles. As soon as I began to think I "should" write, the joy in writing slipped away.

     

    For now, I am forgoing Facebook and social media links, but I am still tossing my words out into the world.  Anyone who wants to find them can of course,  but I am feeling no need to make the process easier.  Besides, as I have learned, only 10% of my readers find me through Facebook, but that 10% plays an outside role in triggering my own demons, not through any intention of my readers but just through the medium itself.

     

    So, what have I been doing since last I wrote?

    Chard&Sorrel

    I came home from Texas to an overabundance of sorrel.  So there has been some cooking, several kinds of sorrel soup, including a Russian Sorrel broth, and the chard and sorrel soup shown above.  I have also made, and frozen a large batch of spring spinach and sorrel soup, which doesn't look much different except that it is a darker green.

     

    I have 12 jars of carrot green pesto, and an equal number of jars of canned carrots.  

    Purple peas

    I missed most of the snow pea harvest while I was in Texas but it looked like the squirrels and birds had a feast.  I also planted some purple podded peas and they were still producing in late May.  I thought they were spent, but we had a cool snap last week and I got another small flush of peas, which I have thoroughly enjoyed both lightly steamed and in salads.


    Roses
    The blueberry bushes suffered from neglect and did not produce much.  I just lost my late crop to something, birds or the bear that was wandering down my street a couple of mornings ago, but it does look like I will have a bumper crop of blackberries again this year.  The roses that are intermingled with the blackberries are also doing well, even though I fretted that perhaps they had been killed by a harsh winter frost. 

     

    I continue to work intermittently in the garden.  Nature is ahead of me but I am doing more work than I have been able to in years.  Still not as much as my younger self once managed, but I am comparing myself to what I could accomplish 20 years ago, an unfair comparison.   I have done more this year than any previous summer since I moved into this house.  And I've finally admitted to myself that I did not lose two summers, but three.  My first summer here was the summer I broke my nose on my birthday, the summer I found out I was in atrial flutter, and probably had been for some time.  I can only accept that now because although my almost-65 year old energy level is not the same as my 45-year old energy level, it is higher than it has been for some time.  And if I am driven less than in former years, it is more because I am less inclined to worry about what anyone else thinks.

    Frame it Up

    The other thrilling thing is that I found a roller frame in my stash of needlework supplies and assembled it to work on the next baptismal towel.  It is not quite the size I need, and I don't have any cotton webbing so I had to substitute quilting cotton on the sides in order to pull the fabric taut.  As you can see, there are still adjustments to be made to the tensioning before I begin work, but I am excited. I have ordered a roll of cotton webbing.  I have a box of various kinds of needlepoint and other frames and I think I need to sort them out to figure out what I have and work from there,  but that is progress.  I am slowly accumulating a set of embroidery materials and tools and am excited to work.  No the above is not perfect.  Yet it is an improvement over what I have done in the past.  My work keeps improving.  I tried something new with the last baptismal towel (seen at the top of this post), and I am increasingly excited about this work.

     

    I might wish I had pursued this interest when I was younger, but I did not, and I have made the best decisions I could at any time of my life.  I'll never be a master knitter, or embroiderer, gardener, or chef.  Truthfully I never cared to.  I just wish to pursue what I enjoy for the pure joy of doing so.

     

    In short. Life is simple.  Life is good. What more could I ask?

  • International Quilt Study Center 2: Craft….

    I've broken this visit to the Quilt Study Center into two sections mostly because it grew long, and I've divided it into sections labeled art and craft, not so much because I believe that one is more or less worthy than the other, or even that dividing lines are all that clear, but because it suited my purposes.  In this post I am covering the parts of the exhibit that were devoted to pieces that were created to be functional.  

    MiaoCollar1

    Simply put, as much as I love art in and of itself, there is a special place in my heart for those who make things that are beautiful for everyday use.  We have little time or even use for such things in modern life, when everything is available to us without much thought and it is time that feels rare.  But I sometimes wonder if we've missed something truly important.

    MiaoCollar2

    There was a small, but lovely exhibit of Miao pieces which included the two collars shown above.  These are pieces intended to be worn, and they show signs of wear and use, but the design and workmanship is stunning.  I want to say that they are in fact children's collars, but I neglected to take a photo of the descriptive plaque and cannot remember.  That seems foreign to us in modern life, where we feel our hands are put to better use than on handwork that will be quickly outgrown, but I'm not sure the results of our labors are any less ephemeral.  The act of making shows respect and honor and love, the wearing connects one to the art, to the cycle of life and art combined.  Such things remind me that we humans are creative creatures, that we are compelled to make beauty, and that it is in fact the act of living itself, and celebrating the small, the immediate, and the circle of our individual family and community is from whence our well-being and happiness ultimately arises.

    MiaoSkirt

    It is not really important if something was made for everyday use or for special occasions.  What attracts me is the making as well as the using, that it is the act of living itself that is worthy of art.  Look at the detail in this Miao women's jacket for example.  It is not fast fashion.  This is something to be worn and cared for, to be treasured.  It is something that is meant to last, not permanently no, but nothing really is permanent, and to be worn with pride.

    MiaoDetail

    In some ways, we modern people have lost that.  Would any of us spend the time embroidering a jacket, putting in time to perform intricate work such as in the example above?  We think of our time as too valuable, and yet do the things we do with our time prove to be more lasting?  Do they bring us greater pleasure? I am not trying to denigrate the art quilts, I think they are fabulous.  I think human need to create is something essential to our being, that we are all creative, if anything, we do not honor or desire for creativity enough.

    Craft Stencil

    But one of the joys of looking at older, or traditional quilts and bed coverings is not only in admiring the skill of the makers, but also in reminding oneself of the joy in making something that was both necessary and beautiful.  No one has to make beauty, and yet we do. And our desire to express beauty can take many forms. The bedspread above is not quilted, or embroidered but stenciled. It is no less beautiful, no less useful, and the stenciling is artfully done.  Similar stencils are available in Michaels and we might stencil a placemat, a piece of furniture or a wall, and yet this bedspread dates from sometime in the 1820s or 1830s. Would we stencil a bedspread? Are we missing something in not curling up under the warmth of our own handiwork?

    Craft Embroidery

    Or consider this embroidered blanket, embroidered with wool thread, which the description stated had probably been spun from local wool.  Note the date, 1816, making this blanket over 200 years old.  The workmanship is beautiful.  Can we imagine it today?  Such workmanship takes much practice and skill, and not every budding embroiderer has the patience or talent, but can we even imagine sitting down today and embroidering a blanket?  What have we lost and what have we gained?  

    Craft EmbroideryDetail

    Is this any less art?  Someone meticulously cut out motifs, arranged them, and attached them by hand.

    Floral

    And so we still admire and celebrate that which survives, the patience, the skill, the handiwork:

    Quilt

    Today these things are the exceptions, the treasures, and most of them are just that.  Most of what makes it to a museum is the exceptional, the work of the skilled and talented, but many of these objects also came from a time when most people needed to make what they used, and not everyone was equally talented.  The truth is that most quilts were not exceptional.  But we tend to forget about the quality of the average.  We are blinded by our own exposure, our experience, our knowledge.  We forget that we have become critics, and we forget that our vantage point is indeed from a point of exception.  But in many ways the average, the everyday, even the fact that individuals and communities made quilts, that the making was itself both a necessity and a bringing together, is forgotten. 

    Burns3

    I think in some ways, that was the beauty of the Ken Burns quilt exhibit, although we admittedly did not spend enough time there.  It is something I regret.  I admit that compared to the work in the other exhibits some of these quilts seemed boring, but we were blinded by our own knowledge, our own skills as seamstresses although I for one am no quilter, and the fact that we had just come from the art exhibits.  But I also blame this on the curation of the exhibit itself,  It could have been so much better.  To that end I am showing two photos from the International Quilt Study Center's website illustrating the exhibit.   The photo above shows an example that I think worked.  The words printed on the wall relate directly to the quilts displayed, and give the viewer some sense of what attracted the collector, but for most of the exhibit this was not the case.

    Burns4

    More often we had random words and phrases, yes Burns' words, but disembodied from a conversation and not necessarily relating to the nearby quilts.  Often these words, taken out of context, in a sense disembodied, seemed shallow and often patronizing.  They seemed to lessen the experience of viewing the exhibit rather than enhancing it.  The collection is in fact quite interesting, even though we did comment that the quilts were often boring.  But that is not the point, surrounded in a museum of the exceptional in terms of technique and style, a bit more work was required in order to bring the heart of this exhibit to the viewer.  I don't think it succeeded.

     

    After returning home I googled Ken Burns and came up with this article in the New York Times.  I highly recommend the article.  Many of the words used in the exhibit come from this conversation, but here they are warm whereas in the museum they seem cold and detached.  There are also photos of quilts not seen in the exhibit, lovely quilts, but their loveliness is not why I mention them.  Read Burns descriptions of the quilts, what attracted him to them.  This is what was missing from the Burns exhibit, the connection with the collector.  In the end I think this is what we all want.  We want to see art, yes, but we also want to understand, we also want relationship.  We want to know what attracted the collector to the works he collected, what meaning he derives, so that we an then form our own conversations with what we are seeing.  This was lacking.

     

    Having read the article, now I'd like to go back and see the exhibit again.  Still I think it could have been better done, it could have offered an opportunity for connection with our past and with the idea that everyday creativity is not mundane or even boring. Instead I am left with regret, regret that despite all the beauty, all the exceptional workmanship, we missed something essential, regret that perhaps we did not see the forest through the trees.

     

    The two photos from the Burns exhibit are not my photos but are taken from the website of the International Quilt Study Center. 

     

  • Liminality

    An almost parting shot:

    Goodbye

    Although I still live in this house, in a very real sense it is no longer mine.  I met with my realtor yesterday. Today and tomorrow, furniture will begin to disappear.  Some will move to my new house, but other pieces are being donated and they begin their journey to new homes and new families.  The planters in the front of the house will be moved to my new house later this week.  My new curtains will come down and the wall of family photos that line the stairwell, the bridge between public space and creative space, will also disappear into the land of waiting.  

      

    I am a person who lives somewhere, and yet nowhere.  A person walking through the lands of not-yet.

    Needlepoin

    And so here I am, neither here nor there.  And yet, yesterday evening the emotional process of letting go was finally complete, and my brain was calm.  I sat down with my needlepoint for the first time in a long time.  The last few months have not been creatively bare, in fact it has been a time of ideas flashing like lightening, of wild ideas and crazy insights, but it has not been a time of focused creative work. In fact, I don't know how much time I will have for needlepoint or embroidery, or sewing, and I certainly can't create mess at this point, and yet suddenly the barriers have fallen.  Let the exploration begin. 

     

  • Restoration

    I have been sewing, although my recent sewing has been restorative rather than creative.  I love handwork, the process of hand-sewing, of hand embroidery and needlework.  It is restorative in that it soothes my soul but also opens a door that allows it to soar freely, as if the act of slowing down, of small repetitive, attentive motions, allow something greater to take flight. I regret that I stopped doing handwork for so long.  I rejoice that I have found it again.  With time, patience, and practice, my skills will improve.

    Banner tabs

    An older silk banner needed repair.  The silk backing, which was shredding, came off.  One of the hanging tabs was also in poor condition.  It needed to be turned and lined, then reattached to the banner.

    Banner tab support

    But the entire top support of the banner was in sad condition. The new tab is in position but not yet anchored.  You can see the shredding of the fabric, the many decades of wear and dirt.  It was questionable whether the top of the banner would continue to hold. 

    Banner structure

    A support band was added, anchored in several rows across the top of the banner, stitched through the tabs and canvas underlining.  Three rows of stitching were added, although this photo was taken early in the process and you do not see them here.

    Banner stitching

    Then a new silk backing was attached.  Many hours were spent making small stitches under magnification.   Although many would find this work tedious and boring, I know of few activities that are more peaceful and centering.

     

    I returned the banner, but I really should have spent more time, let it hang for a week or two in my studio before returning it.  People missed it, and I was going away.  I felt guilty about keeping it while I was gone.  But that was my own, self-imposed guilt, my own failing.  The weight of the embroidery and the heavy appliques pulls the fragile silk, which is shredding in places, downward.  The previous backing, equally old and equally shredded collapsed at the same rate.  

     

    Like everything in life, perhaps like life itself, restoration is a series of compromises.  I see what needs to be done.  The work goes on. 

     

    (All photos, except the second were taken under magnification.  This is both a godsend, that my older eyes can see, and a curse, in that I see how far from perfect my stitches are.  Mastery can only be achieved through years of tiny steps)

  • Needlepoint Gifts Revealed

    You got a glimpse of one of my Christmas projects earlier in the month, when I posed a shot of some needlepoint I was working on.  Here is the finished piece, a luggage tag, for my step-daughter.

    Name tag

    There was a second project as well, for my daughter-in-law, finished just in the nick of time.  This photo, taken in my Florida condo, just before wrapping the gift, does not do it justice.  Forgive the little bits of fluff as well, I didn't notice that until after the gifts were wrapped, too late to take more photographs. The photo doesn't capture the shimmery colors of the bit of metallic thread either, which is not just gold but golden-colors,  and it frames the flower perfectly and the bit of sparkle suits the gold leather frame for this small mirror.

    Compact

    Just to give you a little perspective, both pieces of needlepoint are 3 inches in diameter, and are done on 18 count canvas.  The threads on the luggage tag are silk and silk and ivory, a wool silk blend, with cotton used for the veining in the leaves.  The pansy is a mix of fibers, silk, cotton, and some silk and ivory as well, mostly in the background.  The glittery thread is actually a machine embroidery thread, but alas I don't have the materials with me (and I am not yet home), so I can't provide the details.

     

    Both projects seem to have been well received, and I am grateful as they were both spur-of-the-moment inspirations, and I am mostly happy with how they came out.  Making them proved to be a joy and an inspiration as well, and now I need to find more small projects.

  • Cold Season

    I've been struggling with a cold the last 3 or 4 days, and although I have managed to medicate myself and drag myself out to meet obligations, and Tikka has managed to coax me up and down the hills in my neighborhood.  I've not been particularly good about keeping up with planned activities at home.  And so, once again, this poor blog was neglected.  I suppose I was fortunate this time that the upper sinus blockage moved rapidly down to my chest, relieving me of that mind numbing agony where the slightest movement feels like your head will explode, blasting a hole straight through the roof.  Instead I was blessed with the stage where the slightest movement would induce paroxysms of body-wracking coughs. 

     

    Blessing? Yes.  Once I found a suitable position, I could be fairly comfortable.  And the most comfortable position, sitting in a comfy chair with my head slightly tilted, proved excellent for doing needlepoint. And so I worked on this small piece, seen here through the lens of my magnifying light.

     

    Needlepoint1

     

    It is not yet finished.  Day 4 promises to be the day of the kleenex, making it not such a good day for needlepoint.   But I am running late,  Tikka is ready for her walk, and the world awaits.  Perhaps later I shall curl up with a blanket, some tea, and a good book.

     

  • Ready

    Rested.  This morning, finally, after a week of detail and inspiration, and too much to think about, I am rested.  And with rest comes revelation…. and acceptance.

     

    Ready.  I am ready.   This morning I woke up knowing that the seeds that have been lying dormant under the fallow surface of my heart and mind are ready to break the surface.  I am ready to work in the studio.  I am ready to take up embroidery again, to do needlework of all sorts: needlepoint and embroidery, and to knit and sew and play with dye and paint and fibers.

     

    Much practice is needed.  My stitch quality is poor.  But then I have stitched precious little in the last 30 years, and finished next to nothing.  I am not surprised.  Excellence requires tenacity and practice. What did surprise me at my recent foray into the world of embroidery and embroiderers is that my skills and my aptitude were greater than my expectations of them had been.  I was by no means the slowest, by no means the worst stitcher,  and I could see visible improvement in even a few short days.   

     

    One evening I said to my mother "I need to practice blanket stitch".  My initial blanket stitches were crude and sloppy.  I never liked blanket stitch anyway, but that is no excuse.  I thought, much the same way I learned to like ribbing by knitting a sweater in a 2×2 rib, I would learn blanket stitch by making something heavy with blanket stitch.  There would be no help but to get better.

    2015-10-30 14.19.04

    The next morning we spent the morning making tiny butterflies.  Tiny.  The largest wing was the size of my pinkie fingernail, and my nails are cut short.  Every butterfly wing had to be framed with blanket stitch, tiny blanket stitches, so they could be cut out and mounted on the final embroidery, two-sided three dimensional pieces. I needed a tight and consistent edge.  The inside of the butterfly didn't matter as it would be covered with the orange stitching, which you can also see above.

     

    In fact, in stitching that tiny butterfly, long and short stitch finally made sense as well,  my hands got the feel of it, and although the butterfly wing is not finished, I am happy with the way these wings are turning out. This helped with projects begun earlier in this class, and it helped in my next class as well. I don't believe I realized, when I chose classes, how my choices would work on a continuum, leading me exactly where I want to be.

    Western tanager

    Inspired by my success with the butterfly wings, I returned to my Western Tanager, which we had worked on the day before.  By adding another layer of stitching I was able to save him from the bin of despair, from certain death and replacement.  He is far from perfect. I mashed him with my crude stitching, he is not as plump and rounded as he should be, and my stitches could use great improvement, but he is acceptable. He is a good first bird. I can save him with pride, and I will be happy to finish him. At the moment he is only a promise of a bird; I still need to add a tail and finish the wing, as well as add more head feathers, a beak and an eye, but the potential is there.

     

    But I've done needlework before.  I've intended to start embroidery for a while now. I've got needlepoint and knitting projects waiting in the wings.  What is different now?

     

    I'm not sure I can answer that aside from saying that I wasn't ready.  It wasn't avoidance.  I'll take exception to the Nike "just do it campaign" in this case.  Sometimes we can't.  I couldn't.  For a long time, much as I knew I would someday start exploring my dream of working with thread and yarn and fabric, I couldn't do it.  The long hours of alone time did not lead to creativity, but lead into dark places.  I needed to be outside of myself for a while, and I have been.  But now I see that over the past few months I have been finding my way to this place, the place I need to be to become a whole person, the whole person I was always meant to be. 

     

    Now I am ready. The EGA seminar proved to be a good kicking off point, but it is not the seminar that made me ready.  I suspect much has conspired to get me at this point at this time in this place. Over the past few months I have been experiencing a shift in perception and perspective that has been leading me here.  Just before embarking on this trip, in the week between Cursillo and this trip, I went through another long period in the void.  It was not the same as other such periods.  I was not depressed.  I see now that it was simply a fallow period, while the soil of my creative impulses were resting, absorbing nutrients, and preparing themselves for the new seeds that would soon be sprouting. 

     

    I don't know where exactly this road is leading.  I know I am not leaving my existing paths in the world, and the activities in the community that are necessary for that sense of connection and wholeness that complete us as humans.  The inner world cannot flower without the outer world and perhaps I simply needed to break down those walls that kept them separate, break the dam and let the waters mingle, the way the waters of the Solimões and the Rio Negro mingle in the Amazon basin, a wall that eventually breaks into separate strands before the threads are absorbed and joined into one river.

    Untitled (4)

    (I do not know where my amazon photos are, or even that I haven't lost them.  This photo is by MG Edwards, from this blog post.)

     

  • EGA National Seminar, Day 1

    I've been mulling over a longer blog post, but the simple truth is that I underestimated how exhausting full day-embroidery seminars could be. This is not surprising considering this is my first Embroider's Guild of America seminar and I am a newbie at this kind of thing.  At the end of my first day, there is barely a mull or a coherent sentence left.   I am enjoying myself however, and have to thank my mom for roping me into this.

     

    Hopefully I will get settled, or I will be a basket case at the end of 5 days.  In lieu of many words, I will just share a few photos from the last 24 hours:

     

    The river walk from our dinner table:

    2015-10-26 19.00.28

     

    My lunch, crab salad made from Texas Gulf coast crabs, the thought of which brings back fond memories of crabbing with my grandfather.

    2015-10-28 12.14.47

     

    And my progress at the end of my first six-hour embroidery class:

    2015-10-28 16.45.27

     

     

     

     

  • How Time Flies

    So here it is, another week already, and I have written nothing.  It is true, nothing, not here, not even in my journal.  First typepad was down, through no fault of their own, and I have no issues with that, and then I was down, mostly just wallowing in my own frustrations at my lack of progress, not the kind of thing I tend to want to write about, even on the pages of a personal diary.

     

    2014-04-26 14.36.03-2But today the sun is shining, and a friend brought by a small bouquet of pansies.  How can one be anything but upbeat when looking at pansies, after all?

     

    Not only that, I discovered that a bird has made a nest in one of the planters outside my front door, and it is filled with four small speckled eggs.  To think I had been fretting about those silk poinsettieas and the fact that I had not been able to replace them with fresh spring flowers.   Even if I could walk tomorrow, I couldn't replace those plantings now, not before the new residents are ready to move on.

     

    Otherwise, I've been doing boring things like upgrading programs and rethinking and reconfiguring my cloud storage system, yada yada yada…. it takes forever when you are lying on your side, constantly holding your glasses at funny angles so you can see the screen, but then again, there are few other demands on my time.

     

    I am ready to start reading again, so yes there will be more long tedious book reviews.  And I am knitting a little bit each day.  However my big project is that I've decided to expand my opera horizons. I'm pretty good with modern operas, and have a fairly good knowledge of some of the more esoteric operas, but I know very little about the classics.  I love "The Magic Flute" but am otherwise completely unfamiliar with Mozart's operas, and I know nothing of Puccini.  Oh I am familiar with certain bits that are often performed apart from the opera, but of the operas themselves my mind is blank.  I arbitrarily picked two: La Boheme and Le Nozze de Figaro, and have begged, borrowed, and bought an assortment of recordings on both CD and DVD so that I can watch and listen, and listen some more.  Hopefully this will prove to be a good way to while away the hours and days before my appointment with a surgeon…..