[ huh! can you see that! Julian planted the halloween pumpkin seeds in amongst my tomatoes ]
It’s very rainy today. Can you tell from that photo? I do declare that trying to take a photograph of the rain is a bit like trying to see the wind. Do you know the verse …
Who can see the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Like the reporters from Brisbane claim, when we look at the raging Brisbane river through the eyes of their television camera, it seems so much calmer than what they see with their naked eye, so much more manageable, so much slower; when I look at the rainy, rainy day outside through the lens of our camera, I cannot find all the wet that has made the paths slick, the trees and bushes sponge-like with water, the house damp. Like the wind needs the trees to bow down their heads, I need wet washing on the line, or a puddled lawn for you to see the rain as it falls and falls.
Never mind. It’s raining. The rain has finally left poor sodden Queensland and moved on south. Yes, come on you heavy clouds, leave those drenched folk up north alone. And – it’s even muggy. In Melbourne. Very unusual. I spent the morning weeding the church garden, yanking long manky grass out from amongst the succulents and agapanthus. It was satisfying but wet work. And truly, I don’t think I’ve dried off since. My dankness has not been helped by Sweetpea who has retrieved all of her wet toys from the garden and stashed them around the kitchen floor, one can only presume to dry out. She checks them every now – gives them a wee squeeze with her mouth – and then puts them back in the middle of the floor, annoyed that I’ve dared move them.
This has indeed been a wet summer and what nicer way to cope with the lack of beach picnics or reading in the back garden under the oak then a wee bit of crochet. I’m a bit smitten at the moment. Before we headed east, in those lovely long, slow days post Christmas, I crocheted a stool cosy. Yup, a stool cosy. Sounds appealing huh!? I’d been looking at all the quirky, wonderful rooms in the Frankie interior special – “Spaces“. There was a lot of crochet. Mmmmm …. lots of granny squares and brightly coloured circles adorning all manner of surfaces. So I made a stool cosy.
Julian’s not sure if it’s not the ugliest thing I have ever made. I think that’s a bit harsh :-) At the moment, I think its perfectly wonderful.
This may change, of course. In years to come, I may look at these photos and think – holy moly, whatever possessed me! But for now … hee! hee! hee! So pretty.
I made it using Mum’s yarn from the granny square blanket she’s crocheting – crochet being the one thing she can do with one and a bit eyes that doesn’t make her feel motion sick or headachy. I made it up as I went along – just adding increases when it wouldn’t sit flat, so it was pulled out a number of times to get it right. And I had to add about four more rows than I thought it would take. I would say “Done!” Mum would say “Good!” I would stick it on the stool and say “Oh no, it needs another row!” Mum would say “That’s it! If you use any more of my wool, you’ll have to buy me more!” They’re lovely colours aren’t they :-)
And slippers. I crocheted these in Merimbula. Seriously, it was so darn cold and I hadn’t packed my slippers that I hopped on Ravelry, found a simple pattern, visisted the local yarn store – found a lovely big hank of New Zealand … something or rather. Same as the stuff I made the spring shawl from (there you go, I looked it up – Creative Fibres 100% New Zealand wool). All it needed was one night watching “Waking the Dead” with Mum and Aunty Cate – and voila! Slippers. Now, there was a substantial amount of pattern adjusting. No offense, but I do declare this one size fits all pattern was made to fit the teeny tiny feet of a Chinese noble woman after 50 years of foot binding.
I had to pull the first slipper all out, right back to the last of the increases and add many many more rows to fit my feet – both the top bit covering my toes and upper foot, and the bottom that travels along under your feet and comes up at your heel. Buy they were easy peasy.
[ hmmm … my legs look like the bandy legs of my old poppy’s in this photo ]
The pattern called for a plain edging in a contrast colour and I added the red ruffle. Then, on the one sunny day of the holiday, I felted them in the kitchen sink and lay them out to dry in the sun. They are indeed cosy posy. And much better on our carpeted floors than Cate’s wooden ones!
[ ouch! tummy muscles! ]
I’m working on a pair for Mum now. And Abby has her order in too. Mum wants grey, red and white. Abby – a turqoise blue with pink I think she said. I’ll have to double check on that. Oh and btw – I cannot find the pattern on Ravelry. The pdf is on the ipad and that’s in the living room and I’m lazy. Never mind – after looking on Ravelry again, there are so many lovely patterns to choose from. Frankly, I can’t understand why I picked this one over the rest!
Now, it is still raining. I’m in bed. Sweetpea is at my feet. Julian’s at dinner with overseas colleagues. And there’s a good book lying beside me … just listen to this description …
“Lucy refused to meet her eyes but uttered a vague reply before mounting her bicycle and pushing off towards the top of the driveway, lamplight scribbling a shaky message on the ground before her.”
Oh isn’t that so good … “scribbling a shaky message on the ground before her.” That’s exactly what it does when you first take off on your bike! This is from Kate Morton‘s new novel “The Distant Hours”. She’s a Brisbane writer – works at UQ – it’s flooded. Oh dear.