itty bitty kitties

modflowers: itty bitty kittiesWell, I have been true to my word haven’t I, as regards being a bit quiet.

I haven’t been doing a lot of sewing, although I have been doing a spot of experimenting. Trying out some new things.

I need new things.

Not least because I committed to a stall at the Secret Garden Craft Fair again in June – and it seems prudent to start thinking about what I might sell on it.

modflowers: itty bitty kittiesThese little itty bitty kitties have been in the back of my mind for a while now. They are going to be brooches, once I have sewn on their pins.

The idea came from these…

modflowers: twins - catsThey were the playthings of the twin dolls I made a while back. As they seemed quite a popular pair, I thought they could stand tweaking and repeating.

Plus, I’ve been indulging my love of beads.

I mean, who couldn’t love beads? They’re tiny, cheap, colourful, and transform almost anything you care to add them to.

My one issue with beads is that I have to wear my magnifying glasses to see what I’m doing whilst I sew them on.

Mind you, these days I have to wear the glasses to do just about anything which requires me to focus on something closer than the other side of the room.modflowers: itty bitty kittiesI like working on tiny things far too much to not wear the glasses.

And these really are itty bitty…

modflowers: itty bitty kittiesI’m going to make some different ones, in lots of patterns and fabrics. And bead colours.

I think it’ll take a few to fill up a stall.

So I’ll need a whole litter of pretty itty bitty kitties. ♥


a fabric fable

modflowers: miss mimOnce upon a time, there was a pile of fabric.

It was not a pile that had been bought from a shop with a particular project in mind.

Nor was it a pile awaiting washing, or throwing out.

It was a pile of old fabrics, that had, over time, grown organically from bits left behind when projects were finished; pieces donated by well-wishers and friends; scrips of this and scraps of that.

modflowers: fabric pileThe pile was not popular in the house where it resided. Most people felt, when they saw it, that it made the place look untidy.

They had, in the back of their minds, a vague thought that it should be put away, preferably somewhere out of sight.

But the pile knew better.

modflowers: vintage fabricsAt night, when the house was quiet, the scrips and scraps whispered to one another. They murmured their prospects and possibilities. They speculated and hypothesised about what they might one day become.

The echoes of those whisperings and murmurings hung in the air, like dew in the dawn light. In the rush and bustle of the life of the house, they quickly wafted away, unnoticed and unheeded.

Until, one morning, when the sun shone and the house was quiet and the maker came in and sat alone.

All the accumulated whisperings and murmurings swirled about in the air like motes of dust – and slowly, finally, they began not to evaporate, but to settle.

The maker sipped her tea, glanced over at the pile, and went over to rummage.

Slowly the magic started to take hold; pieces were picked up, ideas were formed, and at last, she set to work.

The pile was scattered, no longer a pile at all really. But that was the way of things.

The way things should be. ♥

modflowers: miss mim



tipping point

modflowers: Copenhagen hama bead wall artWell, I had a lovely birthday, as it turned out.

It seemed to stretch over about ten days in all, what with the trip to Copenhagen, followed by a few days in Cornwall.

Oh, and there was a mini-celebration when I got home too, with presents from family and friends.

But now it’s all over and life settles back into it’s normal pattern.

I was going to post pictures of Copenhagen, but actually, I was too busy living the experience. And the few photos I did take were to remind me of the lovely time I had, rather than to show off.

This one was taken at the (not very good) flea market…

modflowers: Copenhagen flea market waresBut, on some deeper level, I just didn’t feel any desire to share.

In fact, I’ve not been very interested in the internet world at all lately, apart from keeping up with people I know in real life.

I’ve had no taste for blogging, no interest in Pinterest, nothing to put on Instagram and no tweets worth twittering on about.

I’m not feeling down about it, there’s nothing really wrong, but I just seem to have no need for it all at the moment. I feel sort of satiated – both with reading / looking, and contributing.

Pinterest is now a mess of seen-it-all-before stuff (and adverts). Instagram feels over-styled. Facebook is an ever-accelerating treadmill. Everywhere I look, a cacophony of self-promotion jars my nerves and makes me feel cynical and cross. Neither of which I want to feel. And I don’t feel much like I want to add to it, either.

I also seem to have more or less stopped wanting to buy things. I rarely venture onto eBay any more, visit Etsy only occasionally to look for presents for others, and feel no need to browse fashion / homewares / random consumables websites that used to be regular haunts.

I didn’t even want to buy stuff in Copenhagen, despite it being full of former “objects of desire.” Which was only partly because everything was super-expensive.

My partner did buy me these fabrics though…

modflowers: my partner bought me these fabrics in Copenhagen!It’s as if my birthday was some kind of fulcrum, and reaching my half-century has effected a sort of tipping-point.

I’ve lived long enough to recognise, somewhere deep in my bones, that nothing is really new, and buying things does not make you happier, and the number of “likes” you get on the internet doesn’t mean anything really, in the big scheme of things.

Of course, I thought I knew this all along. But somehow this has translated itself into something different, helped along by a touch of overstimulation-induced ennui.

There seems to be a trend for “de-cluttering”, “pro-organising”, “slow-living” and other kinds of purging and soul-searching. In fact, there seems to be a whole industry developing around throwing things out and stopping doing things.

I don’t think how I feel is anything to do with that. Stuff is just stuff. It has only the power we assign to it. It’s what it brings to your life, how you feel about it, that matters. I’m not about to throw everything away and go and live in a cave. I’m just going to do what feels right.

So please forgive me if I am a little quiet for a while.

I am going to read books, do gentle exercise, cook dinners, nurture my sadly-neglected creativity and maybe do some sewing, if I feel the urge. No pressure.

I need to regroup, rethink and re-know myself, now that I have crossed that invisible tipping point.♥dots