Spring Blooms

 


You have to be sharp-eyed to find most of the flowers blooming in front of my house.  Each tiny bell of the squills is the size of my pinkie nail.




 

By comparison this purple crocus is a monster; it's the size of a walnut.  Huge.  I'm sure my neighbors think I'm bonkers because I go outside in front, bend at the waist, and shuffle down the length of the house looking for the tiniest of flowers.  No one can see them but me--and my trusty Canon.





This afternoon was pattern cutting out time.  First I cut this luscious poppy printed knit to make a long-sleeved tee shirt.  This knit fabric is so silky soft, I can't wait to make the shirt so I can wear the daylights out of it.

Then I cut this upholstery weight linen using a caftan pattern.  The dress is full-length so it'll be heavy to wear but I also think it'll be the perfect lounge around the house garment.  I got the fabric at the Rag Peddler in Lexington a couple years ago for about $3/yard so even if it's not perfect I won't have overspent.  Let me be honest, I hardly ever pay full price for fabric.  Anyone who thinks that it's economical to sew your own clothing is mistaken.  Over the last few years pattern and fabric costs have gone up and up and ready-made clothes prices, especially in big box stores, have fallen.  I still like making what I wear, now that I'm not working and have time to sew I think I probably dress nicer than when I was working.  Oh well, my clothes make me feel good and that's what counts.


30 March--Jacques-Laurent Agasse, The Nubian Giraffe.  Mark was really too young to be at the dinner table.  He was seated on two volumes of Grandfather's encyclopedia by the footman, Chase, who was only about five years older than Mark, but they were important years.  He should have had his supper in the nursery with his cousins but Grandfather had sent word up that Mark was to be at the table tonight.  He looked at the glittering rank of silver at his place and hoped he used the right fork at the right time.  He was glad to be seated across from his favorite painting, the one with the friendly looking giraffe.  Lady Jane Ellsworth, on his left, hadn't said one word to him and Meryl Baldwin, on his right, was too busy fluttering her eyelashes at Lord Ellsworth on her right.  So Mark ate his food and watched the candlelight flicker on the giraffe, making it look like it was moving.  He was wondering what the giraffe's hide would feel like when he realized that someone had said his name.  He looked up to see all eyes on him.  "Well, what do you think, Mark?" said Grandfather.  "Sir?" Mark said. "Beg pardon, sir, but I was looking at the giraffe."

I have no idea what Grandfather wanted Mark's opinion on, that information didn't squirt out the end of my pencil last night.  It's funny what comes when I look at the pictures or the words of a prompt (depending on which book I decide to use), often it starts in the middle of something (in medias res) so I don't really know what comes before or after.  It's kind of fun, actually, to be in the dark and have the words just pop out.
--Barbara