fantastic mr. felix: a foxy finished quilt

"Even though so much of modern life and theology insists that what matters is my mind, my soul, my inner self, my heart, there is still this nagging part of me that knows on some deep level that the things we see and touch and hear and taste are spiritual, too." 

--Shauna Niequist

I spend a long time picking out fabrics. The perfect shade of aqua, the happiest-looking foxes I can find. And perhaps it's because I expect so much of them. I expect these strips of cotton to communicate years of friendship. I expect them to sum up love and hope and joy. I expect them to act as a promise of support -- that if ever life is difficult, we are here to help, and if ever life gives cause to celebrate, we are here to join in the excitement.

It's a lot to ask.

But I hope that the new little life who'll be wrapped up in these bright triangles will feel some of that -- the emotion wound up in woolly batting -- seeping out through the stitches.

how I fell in love with fabric

I haven't always been so emotional about fabric. It used to just be material -- something that clothes and sheets and curtains happen to be made of; something that I could pick up at Walmart, in lurid colours, for $3 a yard. It was mundane; something to be used, but not loved.

And then, back in 2012, I happened across Leslie Keating's hand-printed fabrics, and everything changed.



Suddenly, immediately, I saw that fabric could be used for so much more than just the practical. Sewing (for me) was no longer limited to poorly-made baby clothes, badly-hemmed table runners and fraying cloth napkins.

Beauty was possible. Beauty was probable, with the right fabrics. I felt it, physically, in my chest, and fell completely in love -- with the perfect colours, the unique designs.

And along the way, I found other designers whose fabric made me feel that same pang. Lotta Jansdotter's collection, "Echo", Lu Summers' "Summersville", Aneela Hooey's "Walk in the Woods", Carolyn Friedlander's "Architextures", and Blueberry Park's "Allotments" are all prints that bring about an emotional and magical element to sewing. They all shine with the air of possibility that fabric can hold. Because, after all, fabric is a supply; it wants to be used, not just admired.



Of course, these fabrics did just sit, admired, on my shelf for almost a year, as I gained the courage to cut into them. But what a feeling it is to go for it -- to put aside the fear of not being good enough to sew with something so lovely, and just soak in the joy of creating.

For more info on Leslie's fabrics, you can find her hand-printed panels in her shop, Maze and Vale, and keep up with her sales and giveaways at her blog.

finding joy in the process

It's easy to find joy in the first stages of projects. The dreaming, the planning, the making of lists and setting of goals; everything is possible in the future tense. I fill journals with plans for our family, and notebooks with sketches of things to make -- and whether or not they actually come to life, there is something good and wholly meaningful just in the dreaming.

It's just as easy to find joy in completion. Crossing things off lists is, at once, a happy record of something accomplished, and a sigh of relief. The (brief) stage of rest before something else begins. Transatlantic trip -- check. A whole night of sleep -- check. Quilts finished. Books read.

It's the middle bit I struggle with. The doing. The process. The daily. And so, in focusing on joy this year, I am really looking hard at the 95% of life that happens between things beginning and things getting done.

These complex little economy blocks -- a square in a square in a square -- are teaching me something about enjoying the process.

They are slow to make; eight trips through the sewing machine each, with ironing and trimming (and often, seam-ripping and re-doing) in between.

S-L-O-W.



Slowing down like this helps to take my attention off finishing the quilt, and focus instead on the joy that comes simply from putting one fabric next to another. And these fabrics -- these hand-screenprinted fabrics that I've been storing up for a year, waiting to feel "good enough" to sew with them -- are pure joy in and of themselves. They deserve a slow-to-make block. They deserve to be handled eight times, and built up gradually.

And I'm reminded, of course, to treat the rest of my life the same way.

I might enjoy dreaming of all sorts of values and behaviours for myself and my marriage and my children -- but before we get there, before I can tick those things off, there is joy to be found in the process. In the daily. And surely we all deserve the care of being run through the machine eight times, or fifty times, or endless times, on our journey.

in progress: kite quilting

Trying something a little different on this quilt -- diagonal lines, alternating between single and double rows of stitches. It reminds me of kites -- as if what we thought was the sky were simply a million blue and white kites, flying so close to each other that we can't see the blank expanse of universe beyond. 

The Cheater's Guide to Quilting

So, in the spirit of getting started early on all things Christmas, I thought I'd show you what I'm making as a present for Tilly. As she's born in the year of the tiger, this Alexander Henry Zoo print seemed just perfect to mark her first year of Christmas with us.

And what better way to get all snuggly in winter than with a big cosy "quilt". Why the quotation marks? Well, serious quilters would probably take offense to me calling this a quilt... really it's just two yards of fabric and two yards of fleece joined together. No batting. No patchwork. No fuss.

Of course, even the simplest of quilts needs some sort of edging. And since the quilt-top took me all of two minutes to make (i.e. trimming the fabric to be the same size as the fleece!), I thought I'd spend a little extra time on the binding. Rather than buying pre-made, I made my own double-fold binding, and am on evening number three of hand-stitching it on the backside.

So, if you're after ideas for handmaking Christmas presents that'll be useful and well-loved, a little handmade quilt doesn't have to be a daunting task. Really, two yards of a favourite fabric, two yards of good quality fleece, and a couple of packages of binding (or a yard or so of fabric, if you want to make your own... tutorial here) are all you need!

And if you do start making your own, please post a link, as we'd love to see!

P.S. If you haven't entered the bits-and-bobs Christmas giveaway over at The Fable of the Table yet, you've got another day or two! Go on...

Place Mats

There's something about taking photos that makes me want to live a better life.

Last year, when Loreal got me into scrapbooking, it really pushed us to go out and explore Arizona so that I had more photos to add to the scrapbook. If it wasn't for the urge to do things worthy of taking photos of, we might never have tasted the best of Arizona's wines, eaten pizza at the funky Velvet Elvis, or hiked Madera Canyon in the snow.

Now, in the same way, this project to take a photo every day is inspiring me to do more, to create more, to see more in the world around me. I'm starting to see photo opportunities on the drive home. I'm bringing my camera when I walk the dog.

One thing, though, that I've sort of been restraining myself from photographing is food, mostly because our kitchen table can be so boring, I've never felt the urge to remember it!

Partly, this problem was due to our hideous place mats. Well, not my taste, at least!

Yes, this really is the only set we owned! We had bamboo ones at one time, but they started to rot! And we have ones that say "Happy Thanksgiving," but they're packed away (and really wouldn't be much better).

So, in the interests of being able to feel proud of any food photos I might want to take, I set out to make some more photogenic place mats! And since it was so easy, I thought I'd write a simple tutorial in case you're in need of a new set, too.

Most of the fabrics are ones I used in Matilda's play mat, as I loved the colour combination so much. (And now, if we ever change her on the kitchen table, it'll match nicely!!!!)

All I did was cut 3 inch wide strips of each fabric, about 19 inches long. Six place mats, then, needs 30 strips total.

I pinned them together, right sides facing, five strips to a mat, and sewed them, allowing a 1/4 seam allowance. (Approximately... I'm terrible at even seam allowances, but they turned out okay!)

Once sewed, I ironed the seams flat... my favourite bit!

Then, I pinned the top, right side down, to a big piece of red felt, which would serve as a backing. I cut around the place mat, and sewed the top and the felt together, leaving an opening for turning. I then top-stitched all the way around, which closed the opening-gap, and held it all together.

Finished! Ready for dinner... and photos!

When I showed them to Justin, he frowned and said "You know I'm just going to spill stuff on them, right?"

Yes, well, luckily we have six of them, and so there'll always be another clean one ready waiting!