block-a-day stitch-cook-grow-love Thu, 24 Apr 2014 13:38:30 +0000 en-US hourly 1 where peruvian wool, german woodruff and the norfolk pines of rainbow bay meet Thu, 24 Apr 2014 13:33:42 +0000 Lily Well in my mind’s eye of course!

It’s a busy and overflowing mind.  One which races with images, memories and voices, sounds, tastes and smells.  One that holds hundreds of lists.  One that plots out countless plans, dreams and conversations.  One that sometimes gets lost with longing for what I miss, rather than make the most of what I have.

Let me tell you, quietening this mind at night can be a challenge.

But every now and then, it makes wonderful connections.  Connections that draw the here and now towards the dearly held images and memories.  In a piece of floral fabric I see the curtains that once hung in Nanny and Grandad’s spare bedroom, or the covers of cushions on the their porch chairs.  Holding a vintage jug in an opshop reminds me of the jug Nanny served gravy in and I’m taken straight back to a giggly Christmas dinner where Aunty Jackie hoarded the custard, in its saucepan, on her lap.  In a dear little baby’s cardigan, I think of my old Nanny Dougall and her incredible attention to detail.  A jaunty children’s print takes me back to the family room of my childhood and I picture my Mum at the sewing machine, stitching up matching dresses for my sister and I.  Just the other day – a grey, drizzly, cold and lonely day – I found a vintage children’s beach towel that I swear Aunty Anne kept in her linen cupboard in the 1970s for when all the cousins came for the summer.  When I bring these things home to Bootville – when I add that fabric to a quilt, or stitch another piece into a skirt, when I serve Julian’s gravy in that jug, and fold that beach towel into a cushion cover, it feels so good.  My stitches and the time I devote to them, pull the web of my life closer and firmer, making it into a beautiful pattern that I can pull out and enjoy.

These poignant words, from the talented writer, knitter and sewist at Needle and Spindle (found via the lovely Kate Davies), sum it up perfectly …

“Hand made items preserve time in the same way that fruit is preserved as jam, not as the unchanged strawberry or plum fresh plucked, but as something cooked and processed to preserve the taste of summer.  Hand made items embody both the hours of making (time) and memories and feelings of people (the times) within the construction of the object…a true cultural artefact.”

Isn’t that so lovely!  And as batty as it might sound, it’s exactly what I felt when I found this gorgeous sock pattern, last Friday night, after coming back to Melbourne from my week’s trip to Brisbane to help care for family.  Those rich shades of green and blue, with their lovely straight lines and ordered branches/leaves, reminded me so much of the Norfolk Pines of Rainbow Bay, standing tall, elegant and timeless against the magnificent blue of the ocean, the brilliance of the sunlit sky, and the smudgy mist of the hinterland.   Sitting on the sofa in cold Melbourne, so far away, these socks made me feel closer to that which I love, and I knew I had to find me some wool and get knitting!


norfolk pines

I had spent Thursday afternoon at Rainbow Bay, with Mum, Aunty Anne and Aunty Cate.  In the very small and southern corner of Queensland, where it meets New South Wales.  Where I spent hundreds of weekends and summers as a child, a teenager, then as a mum with her own little girl. Oh it was so lovely.

We visited the Dbar cafe for lunch …


walked the cliff top path remembering the ships sunk off the coast of Australia during WW2 …


stopped at the rail and peered down into the rollings waves, hoping for surfing dolphins …

scanning for dolphins

followed the trail down the steep cliff to the tiny cove with its “frog”…

the frog

passed the old porpoise pools where the crazy folk stand out on the Point Danger rocks – Uncle Keith always declared every 7th wave would wash any fool who was standing there straight off – put us off for life …

surfer with wave


Round to the surf life saving club – where my favourite beer billboard “From where you’d rather be” now adorns the clubhouse!

mum and cate


from where you'd rather be

… and down to the water’s edge …

looking through the pandanus

down to the sea


Mum sat under the Norfolk Pines (just saying now, when we have our land in the Bega valley, I am planting a line of Norfolk Pines) – not the Pandanus ’cause they were heavy with their drupe (that’s the word for their huge heavy fruit – you learn something new everyday, huh)


pandanus not

and I reckon had one of them fallen on her head she’d have known about it – and watched as Aunty Anne, Aunty Cate and I had a lovely long swim.


Oh, it was heaven.

grandads school

view from the classroom


is grandad here

(I wonder if one of these little people standing “at ease” is Grandad!)

Then we hopped back in the car and drove up the hill to the little old school Grandad attended as a wee lad – he tells us all the time about sitting in the hot classroom with the boring school teachers looking north down to Kirra and longing to run away and go for a swim, then south up to Greenmount where he knew the Boicke brothers would be – one sitting on top of the hill watching for the shoals of fish, the rest in the pub down below.

This small corner has barely changed in 30 years.  There’s always combi vans parked alongside the park, their backs stuffed with mattresses and cheerful towels draped here and there to dry.  There’s always families with tired sandy children, and mums and dads with their arms full of towels and boards and umbrellas.  There’s always older folk walking slowly along the paths, looking out at the magnificent view, stopping now and then to sit on the park benches that are shaped like old wooden surboards.  There’s always teenage girls strutting along in their bikinis, and teenage boys with their board shorts and rashies, their surfboards tucked under their arms, their faces smeared with zinc.  The air is filled with the lovely roar of the ocean, and the occasional shriek of the seagulls.  And there’s that smell of salt and coconut oil.  Yes, coconut oil!

Isn’t that wonderful?  That time-stands-still quality.  Oh it melts my heart.  The joy is almost overwhelming and I am so very grateful for every moment I am there, filling my soul, replenishing my mind’s eye.

So when I gathered my supplies today – my pattern written by a Londoner, based on a plant that grows in Germany, knit in wool that came from Peru – and headed out into my sunlit, autumn Melbourne garden – that was a full 13 degrees celsius cooler than I had been last Thursday at Rainbow Bay – in a strange but lovely way, all those sights and sounds and stories and happiness  met me there in the little green and blue stitches I made on the thinnest needles I’ve ever knit with.


wool winder

(Nanny’s old wool winder)

the start coraline lucy sunbaking

on the kneeprogress

And I dream that when I pull these socks on – hopefully before winter’s through! – I will know they belong to me because I’ll be wearing a little bit of Rainbow.

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a table cloth skirt Wed, 23 Apr 2014 09:00:29 +0000 Lily table cloth

Did you notice the Australian wildflowers table cloth in last night’s post?  On a lovely heavy cotton/linen blend, with colours so rich and pretty?  I found it at the oppie recently.  Now, truth be told, if you’d dressed your table in this cloth back in the 80s or 90s, I’d have given a little eye roll and thought “ew”.  Wasn’t I horrible!  No appreciation for Australian wildflowers in any way, shape or form back then.  I’d have thought it the height of dagginess.  Throughout the 00s – I left plenty such cloths behind in the oppies, only having eyes for the sweetness of the Scandinavian and German cloths or the wacky designs of the 50s and 60s.

But now … well, I’d have to say I’m converted.  With age has come a much greater appreciation for the beauty and delight that lives right on my doorstep and so, the other day when I spied this cloth hanging amongst its boring plain relatives in the table cloth section, I snatched it up with delight.  I love looking out for these flowers as they glow at their special time of the year.  I love watching the bees smoosh themselves into the red flowering gum.  I love how the brightly coloured birds in Mum’s garden screech indignantly at each other as they squabble over the sweet nectar.  The flowering kangaroo paws remind me of the magnificent kangaroos that lollop down Mum’s street and gather in the grass at the Pambula beach each afternoon.  I even love the heady scent of the wattle, despite it making my eyes itch – it takes me back to my school years where wattle was planted alongside the Year 9 classrooms and science labs and once it flowered, you knew the school year was on the downhill run.  Yes, I’m truly converted.

However, Julian is not much of a table cloth fellow, and the linen cupboard is literally popping with table cloths so this sweet cloth needed to take on a different role.  Besides – I wanted to enjoy it regularly!  And so a table cloth skirt was born.

stork leg close up

I cut the cloth in half so that the longest side gave me the most length and the little wattle baubles formed pretty borders.  Sewed it up, turn over a hem, and added elastic.  But it still needed something else – a pretty red and white spot!  With a deep ribbon of blue rickrack. (p.s. the lovely red vintage cardigan is also recently thrifted from the oppie – Mum found it!)

fulllength holding it out

It is so cherry and pretty and I don’t mind saying that each time I wear it, someone comments with delight :-)  I even had a lady at the patchwork store follow me down the aisles to ask if that was indeed a tablecloth because it was the prettiest use for such a tablecloth she’d ever seen!

heavy dew new tree children bee unopened buds against autumn leaves lookingup sun and blue sky

It is the perfect skirt to wear today.  A day filled with a rich blue sky and lovely golden sunlight.  Such a treat after four days of dark gloom and rain.  Mind you, the dew is so heavy it took only a few footsteps before my shoes were wet through.  I’ll have to get the leather wax onto them.

wet feet the back

Guess what I have in the sewing pile now … one of those fabulous floral German cloths with the border of little men and women in their sweet costumes.  It’s a square one, identical to one that I use regularly and those I grew up with.  Mum and Nanny had them in yellow and green and blue – as a child it just seemed natural to me that you should have blue and white china on your table with floral cloths bordered in little men and women.  I was always so surprised to find other folk DIDN’T have these on their table.

And you know what’s going to happen to it, don’t you!


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all that has happened Tue, 22 Apr 2014 11:53:40 +0000 Lily Oh my goodness … 2014, what a year you are shaping up to be!  Almost four months past and I’ve barely caught my breath.  Now tonight, here I sit in my layers of wool and sheepskin slippers.  The bed is laden with blankets and quilts.  The rain patters outside.  Summer has well and truly finished.  Autumn never really arrived … or if you caught glimpses, I must have been deep inside the emergency room of the children’s hospital and missed them completely … and now it’s almost gone.  And I’ve not popped my head in here for ages!

In fact, this is the third night I’ve sat down to write, but then I’ve thought … well, what on earth have I got to say?  I’ve been lurching from one chaotic period to another.  Nothing much has progressed on the crafty front.  No show and tells ready and prettily photographed  :sigh:

Then I decided to empty the camera card and what did I find?  Empty camera card? Evidence of chaos?  A visual reminder of what happens when you are frantically writing up one university assignment after another, whilst working full time in a completely new and unusual environment with a massive team of nurses and doctors that seem to completely change with each shift, accompanied by a husband who’s overseas working for a month, a wonderful Mummy who steps into the breach and keeps Bootville running, followed by a dear old grandad who suffers a terrible stroke and needs us by his side quickly and a darling old grandmother who doesn’t know what their life holds for them next?  Is that what’s on the camera card?

No, not really.  Instead, there are glimpses – here and there – some more weeks than others – of a life that is still being lived with good cheer.  There’s been lots of keeping close to the ones I love, birthdays celebrated, an endless appreciation for the old, battered and quirky, a never before experienced explosion of autumnal knitting, a coming together of quilts – old and new, a treasured opportunity to hold my Grandad’s hand whilst he rests in hospital, beautiful hours sitting with my Nanny whilst we knit together and ponder what may come next, a very special opportunity to rekindle a close relationship with a dear aunty, a much appreciated trip to a favourite beach, tablecloths turned into skirts, an adored friend visiting for Easter, wee dolls being needlefelted, moments of sunshine in the garden …

Yes … it would seem that whilst I have been away from here for a very long time – the longest ever I think! – and spent many, many hours at the early and late ends of the day caring for little people and their families; the spirit of Bootville lives on, and the goodness that makes up our crazy, busy, love-filled, creative lives gets squeezed into the corners no matter how fast the time flies.

table cloth borders sewn borders attached birthday quilts sewn quilting cocktails sipped newly thrifted shelves fabrics were played with dirty lamp fizzy clean lamp pea soup cardie dishcloths were knitted cardigans multiplied dirty sideboard clean sideboard mum visited ready for home nanny's knitting bag family rainbow dollls made friends came husbands relished autumn welcomed even more knitting

And that’s so good.  See you tomorrow – yes?

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argyling and the marvellous Joan Aiken Wed, 12 Feb 2014 11:19:44 +0000 Lily that can be a verb, yes?  Sounds like a strange form of mining.  I’m wracking my brain to see if there’s any analogy between knitting argyle and mining …. no, I’m coming up blank.


Nevertheless, that’s what’s going on here in Bootville.  Because there are only 5 days left to argyle before the birthday arrives on which I said I would have the argyle ready for wearing.  Gasp!

peek inside

Silliness aside – and disregarding the insane number of little balls of wool that perform square dancing on every row – knitting argyle – my first attempt – is very pleasant.  The yarn is Jamieson and Smith’s 2 ply jumper weight which is so very lovely to knit with.  It’s so very woolly!  You only have to lay two strands next to each other and they snuggle up.  And the soft halo that floats above the surface of the knitted fabric is so beautiful.  Yum!  When I knit with this yarn, I don’t ever want to knit with anything else.

holding it open

And I’m knitting on 3.25mm needles which is also strangely addictive.  When I was a young, flighty knitter I was very much of the notion that the bigger the needle, the fatter the yarn, the better.  Now I say, nonsense to that!  There’s something very very good about knitting up a fabric that is fine and light, yet so warm and durable.

hard to fathom

Oh, the pattern.  It’s Keith’s Vest by Veronik Avery.  I like her stuff – very classy.  The back, of course, was easy-peasy-easy-peasy – back and forth, back and forth, straight up.  The front – well, trying to read “the pattern” took a few quiet looks, a few frogged rows, finally an a-ha moment and then the decision, once I knew I was in the right spot, to not confuse myself any further by looking at “the pattern” and just keep an eye on the photo. And follow the lines.  It’s a bit common sense really.  It’s working – currently.  I’ll have to pay attention when the armholes start decreasing but that’s okay.  They’re only armholes and I don’t think the argyle really touches them much.  Nope, just checked, there’s no argyling going on near armholing.  I am looking forward to the bands.  Oh yes!

bunched up

And it has to be knitted on the bed – with all the little balls rolling around in front of me.  And that’s okay too because I am so tired this week – that time of the month, and early morning classes – that sneaking in a couple of hours each day,  to sit on the bed, pillows scrunched behind my back, the fan blowing on my face, a cold drink by my side, is really nice.

coming my way

Actually, that’s why I’m knitting right now, and not reading (rereading a favourite children’s series, because really, don’t you think, the really good children’s books are better than any grown ups’ book I’ve ever read).  Because I know if I read, I will fall asleep and then I will not wake up in time to fetch the little girl from school for an afternoon of homework.  So I shall knit.

stolen lake

Besides, there’s only five days to go before we reach the birthday.  And I promised.


Pop over to Ginny’s to check out her yarn along friends – there are some beautiful places to visit and lots of pretty yarn :-)


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a crochet sampler :: week 1 ~ apple trees Tue, 11 Feb 2014 08:08:50 +0000 Lily ingredients

Do you remember, I mentioned the other day that I was so inspired by Nanny’s 110 Crocheted Edgings book that I wanted to make a crocheted edges sampler?

Well, I’ve started!  Yes, 2014 is the year of just doing it.  And I thought I would make the whole project into a little weekly thing and share it here with you.  Each week, I will add another sample to my background and then publish the instructions and photos here, if you would like to join me.  That means, in a year’s time – I – and you! – will have roughly 50 edges.  We may have had enough by then.  Or maybe we’ll make more!  As Nanny would say, we’ll play it by ear, shall we?

A word on copyright – I don’t know if this book is still within copyright.  I certainly don’t want to steal from it, which aside from anything else would diminish the wonderful effort put in by its original authors and publishers, The Misses Bamford & Walker of St. Ives, Sydney.

Instead, I see myself – and this little series – as celebrating their skill and expertise, as well as the wonderful heritage left to me by my grandmothers.  All designs belong to Misses Bamford and Walker.  I will not be reproducing their instructions here, because I actually find them really hard to follow – this is no slight of Misses Bamford & Walker, but more a reflection of my skill level and the differences in how we write crochet instructions today as opposed to then.

So, I will be muddling my way through their instructions – it will be trial and error with lots of ripping back – and I will then write my own instructions which will be my interpretation of how I achieved their design.  From my experiences so far, I use the accompanying photographs to guide me as much, if not more, than their written instructions.

Also – this will be a rather long post because it’s starting us off – describing how I prepared the fabric and establish my crocheted edge.  In all future posts we’ll just jump straight in to the week’s design.

Shall we start!

A little trip up the road on Saturday, in the most frightful heat, presented me with a lovely piece of dove grey fabric as the background.  It’s a heavy cotton, 150cm wide, with an almost aida-cloth like texture.  I straightened the top and bottom edges by pulling a thread from the edge through from one side to the other, to find the straight line, cut along the line that appeared, then overlocked the edges.  I prewashed it – figured I wouldn’t want to be washing it much once it was laden up with crocheted edgings – and amazingly enough, when it’s 40 celsius, things dry to a crisp on the line within an hour.

I measured down 9 inches from the top edge – it just seemed to be the right amount – folded it over and gave it a light water spray and a good bash with the iron so that my edge had military precision.  Then I stitched 3cm away from it – straight across from one side to the other.  My first pleated edge for crocheting!  Now I bought 2 metres of fabric but I’m not sure how much of that length will be used.  Will have to wait and see.  However, I have divided my width into 3 columns.  I have left 10 centimetres on either side for a border and binding, and then 5 centimetres in between each of the columns.  That means each sample of crocheted edging will be 40cm long – just enough to get a good feel for it!

(Should add here that I apologise in advance for chopping and changing from metric to imperial measurements – being here in Australia where metric is the order of the day, metric is my usual guide, but I still use imperial often because of the quilting rulers – so it was 9 inches because of the quilting ruler I had at hand, 3cm because of the gradients marked on my sewing machine and so on!)

Now I’ve only done the first pleat, because I wanted to see how much gap I would like between each row of crocheted edgings.  When I’ve finished the first three, I shall play around with the gap between the first and second rows and update you.  It may well change for each gap, according to the depth of the edging. Some of them are beautifully deep – wait til you see the Crowns!!!!

starting with number 3

Sunday morning – after a terrible night’s sleep, thanks to the heatwave – I sat up in bed, with two fans blowing on me, a huge glass of water by my side, a constant supply of coffee (thank you sweet Julian!), a snoring Lucy at the foot (she was forbidden from snuggling into the background fabric), and started my stitching.  I chose Edging No. 3 – strong enough to be worthy of the top line of my sampler, but not too deep or difficult.

Preparing the Fabric and Establishing a Crocheted Foundation Edge

Step 1

Using DMC No. 12 Perle Cotton, measure in 10cm from the edge of your background fabric, then blanket stitch the edge of your pleat until you are 10cm away from the opposite edge (don’t worry about your 3 columns at this point).  It doesn’t really matter how long each stitch is.  Obviously, it’s nicer if they are uniform, but it won’t affect the crochet.  However, the width of the stitch will – too narrow, and the crochet foundation you will make in Step 2 will bunch up; too wide and your crochet foundation will gather your fabric in.  Mine are roughly 1/2 centimetre wide.  We won’t count them :-)

mark your destination

Step 2

Using DMC Traditions Crochet Cotton (we’ll call it our thread), Size 10, and a 2.5mm crochet hook, create a double crocheted running stitch through your blanket stitching. This will form the foundation on which you will stitch your lace edging.

I achieve this by fastening my thread on the far right, leaving a long enough tail to pull through to the back.  Make 1 chain.  Then insert the crochet hook through the next blanket stitch loop that runs along the edge of the pleat and draw the thread through so that you have two loops on your hook.  Wrap your thread around the hook and pull it through both loops on your hook.  Repeat on each blanket stitch loop until you reach the end of your first column – 40cm (that’s what the pin is marking in the previous photo).  Fasten off, leaving a tail long enough to pull through the back.

making chains across your blanket stitch

Now we are ready for this week’s edging!

Week 1 :~ Apple Trees (edging no. 3)

A word on the rows.  I do think that you can differentiate sometimes between a crochet’s front and back, which is why I  fastened off my double crochet foundation row.  I wanted to start Row 1 on the front of my work.  When you are going round something – like a doily or a face flannel or a skirt – it’s not a problem because you are always working on the front.  When you are making one straight line, you are going to be coming back on the wrong side.  However, I think, in this design, the second row works fine to come back on the wrong side.  


Row 1

Return to the beginning of your double crochet foundation (the far right).  Make 2 trebles in the first 3 double crochet foundation stitches.  * Make 1 treble in the next double crochet.  Chain 4.  Make 1 treble into the same double crochet.  Make 2 trebles into the next 5 double crochets.  Repeat from * until you reach the end of your double crochet foundation.  I finished on the second pair of the 5 trebles.  Doesn’t really matter where you finish – just don’t finish on the sequence – 1 treble, four chain, 1 treble.  It’s a sampler, not a finished product.  Fasten off, leaving a tail long enough to pull through the back.

my crochet companion

Row 2

Make your way back to the third pair of the first group of 5 treble pairs (remember, you’re working on the wrong side for this row).  I finished on the second pair of my 5 trebles so I just started there.  If you finished on the fourth or fifth treble pair, slip stitch back to the third pair.  # Make 1 double crochet into the first of the two trebles that make your third pair.  Make one chain.  * Make 1 treble into the loop (formed by row 1′s 1 treble, 4 chain, 1 treble sequence).  Chain 4.  Make 1 double crochet into the chain stitch you made before the last treble.  At first I found this bit tricky – so I’ve included a photograph of where to make this double crochet below (with the mustard coloured arrow).  Make 1 chain.  Repeat four more times from * .  Repeat from # until you are back at the beginning.  Fasten off.

four chain where to put the double with arrow in goes the hook

It looks so much more complicated than that, doesn’t it – but it’s only two rows.  And I do think the lace created looks like well laden apple trees.


Let me know if you’re going to make a sampler too!  And if you need help deciphering my instructions, or think I could do it better (because I have NO experience at crochet pattern writing), please feel free to email me – lily(at)blockaday(dot)com.




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the postmaster’s granddaughter Mon, 10 Feb 2014 11:46:50 +0000 Lily As you may have read here before, my beloved old Grandad was a Postmaster with Australia Post.  He began his career as a teenage telegram boy who, whilst wearing a blue woollen suit, buttoned to the neck with brass buttons in hot, steamy Brisbane, would ride his bicycle up and down Brisbane’s narrow, hilly streets delivering telegrams.   The post office, in those days, encouraged its workers to “improve themselves”, so Grandad completed every course they offered and began climbing the corporate ladder, moving from one small country town post office to the next, each time a little higher up, until he was the Postmaster.


My earliest memories of his role are from when he was the Postmaster in Holland Park and Nanny and I would drive down to the Post Office each day to fetch him home for lunch.  We used to sing a silly ditty along the way, based on his nickname – “the old baldy-bee, the old baldy-bee, hi-ho the dairy-oh, the old baldy-bee”.  I thought it was hysterically funny – and loved my old baldy grandad.  From there they moved to Leeton – where they lived in a lovely old Postmaster’s residence – my only memories of which revolve around peach orchards and flies, and hot buttered rock cakes under the cutting out table in Nanny’s curtain and haberdashery shop.  Then onto Kempsey – it was the best!

goulburn post office

 (this is the Goulburn Post Office Grandad – it was so big, I couldn’t fit it all in the photo – so I chose the clock tower because it was the prettiest bit! )

As a child, I thought the Kempsey post office was a castle!  We would go in to visit Grandad and he would sit us up at the huge old wooden counter with a booklet he would make out of sheets of brown paper stapled together.  We would fiercely whack the rubber stamps (just like the real post office clerks), that were stored on the big, spinning  metal mushrooms which sat on the counter, all over our brown paper booklets. Sometimes we would sneak other things – like airmail stickers and parcel labels which all had to be moistened on  damp sponges that sat snugly in little glass bowls, before sticking them in too. If we were really lucky, Australia Post would have colouring sheets – in they went too, along with brochures on how to pack parcels and instructions on what you must never send through the mail. Then we would use every marker in the drawer to decorate the page edges.  Good stuff!

cundletown post office

Then Grandad bought a retired red Postie motorbike.  Oh my goodness – we couldn’t believe our good fortune.  We would take turns sitting on the back, clutching Grandad’s waist, as he zoomed (pottered and bumped really), along the fence line of their back paddock, down past the chooks and ducks across the bottom of their property, then back up the other side, past the wood pile.  Round and round we’d go.  One grandchild on the back holding on tight, the other grandchildren impatiently awaiting their turn, the rest of the family cheering from the porch!  It was one cute motorbike.  And Grandad was the coolest postie!

kempsey post office

All these lovely memories have given me such a soft spot for Post Offices and a love of stamps.  So when I saw this glorious stamp fabric at Spotlight last year, I was utterly smitten.  All those wee stamps!  The radiant colours!  It was just meant to be mine. However, goodness knows why, I didn’t buy any straight away.  Which was a big mistake, because within less than a fortnight they had sold out.  Bummer.

grafton post office

Then, when I was in Brisbane last month, helping to look after old Grandad and Nanny, we called into their local Spotlight during a dreadful rain storm – we almost didn’t stop but were both desperate for a circular knitting needle – and there was the stamp fabric – wrapped around the end of the fabric cutting table.  I asked the lovely girl serving us whether they had any left.  No, she said, it was an incredibly popular fabric and that was their last piece – display only.

Oh!  I proceeded to tell her about Grandad the Postmaster and how we were here looking after him, how much I loved stamps and post offices, and how much I loved that fabric – I had wanted some because it would always remind me of our lovely times with Grandad when we were little.  She was such a sweetie –  and without another word, unfastened the safety pins that were holding the fabric taut, unwrapped it from the end of the table, measured it, folded it neatly and sold it to me – at a discount.  I was soooooo thrilled :-)  Honestly, I regularly have the loveliest experiences with the staff at Spotlight – no matter which store I visit, they are always so helpful and friendly.

Grandad thought it was very cool …

all those stamps

… and what have I done with it?  Why made my very own Postmaster’s Granddaughter’s Dress :-)

spinning around

My favourite dropped waist style.  The bodice is made from a Butterick Blouse pattern – I especially wanted the lovely peter pan collar – my first attempt at such a thing – and I’m happy to report that whilst it was a bit fiddly and took almost two hours of careful stitching and pressing, it was such fun to make and I shall certainly make more.  I bought the orange fabric – called Full Moon Lagoon – from Darn Cheap Fabric up the road.  The skirt – in my glorious stamp fabric – is simply gathered on.  And I found a fabulously fat turquoise ric-rac at Darn Cheap to trim the hem.

gathered on collar button at back

The original blouse pattern called for a zipper in the back.  That seemed both too much effort and too fussy.  So I made the back opening much shorter, added a lovely vintage button from the button jar and crocheted a little chain stitch loop to fasten it.  Works a treat.

pretty hem full length

I just love it!  I know – being the funny old thing I am – that I will wear it and wear it and wear it for many years.  In summer with my sandals.  In winter with tights and buckle ups and a cardie.  It will always be a favourite.

all those greys

And every time I pull it over my head, smooth it down, wash it, peg it out on the line, carefully iron it …

the old postmaster himself

I will think of my dearly loved old Grandad (pictured above with Mum on the right and Auntie Anne on the left), the intrepid Postmaster, the beautiful childhood he helped create for me, and all that love he has shared with me for 44 years.


Oh how I love you, you old baldy-bee!

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weekend drive :: crowdy bay & a wee lighthouse Sun, 09 Feb 2014 01:18:03 +0000 Lily A weekend with a little driving adventure is the best weekend of all – well, I think so :-)  But often, during these busy months of school and work and study and placement, it’s all we can do to keep everything running smoothly at home, let alone pack a yummy picnic and set off for a whole day.  Fortunately, the summer holidays provided plenty of opportunities for little – and big – driving adventures, so I’ve plenty to look back on over the next few months.  I thought I’d share some of them here –  this weekend, I bring you the little known, quiet hamlet of Crowdy Head.

Most of the beautiful bay, of which Crowdy Head is but the southern tip, is a National Park so the only access to the long beach is from this spot, or the northern tip – Diamond Head.  Originally, Captain Cook named this point “Indian Head”.  The Australian writer, poet, and social justice campaigner Kylie Tennant, suggested he may have named it so after catching sight of, through his spyglass, a group of the local Aborogines – the Birripi people (I think this is their name, but if I’m wrong, I do apologise and please let me know!).  Later it was renamed Diamond Head because of its abundance of sparkling quartz in the cliff faces.

kylie tennant's cottage(picture retrieved from:

Kylie Tennant, whilst living in nearby Laurieton, with her husband (the local schoolmaster) and children, was so delighted with this beautiful spot, she built a wee shack for writing, watching the animals, escaping from it all … not much is known about her time here.  But her book “The Man on the Headland” provides an enchanting description of this place and its local “hermit” Ernie Metcalfe.

Despite my many, many trips to the southern tip as a child, we never ventured north, so the delights of Kylie’s Beach, the Diamond Head Walk, the Mermaid Walk, and the many picturesque cliffs, coves and inlets of this part of the park are unknown to me.  I intend to remedy this at the next opportunity!

But Crowdy Head – it is part of my childhood dreams and memories.  The hot and sticky drive, always accompanied by the incessant and fierce drone of cicadas, from Nanny and Poppy’s to the beach – that always seemed suuuuuuch a long way (only 7km actually!).  The beautiful little waves that were always perfect for my sister and I with our boogie boards  The wee fishing harbour where Poppy’s friends kept their trawlers.  The co-op where we’d buy freshly caught prawns for lunch.  The squat white lighthouse, that I imagined holidaying in and keeping an eye out for smugglers, just like Famous Five.

close into shore all the way to the edge the paddler the pebbles little lighthouse from the fence towards harrington swirly down below looking up looking back to the bay keepers cottage

(the site of the lighthouse keeper’s cottage – the Crowdy Head lighthouse was demanned in 1928, very early, so unlike most of its lighthouse cousins, there is no keeper’s cottage for holiday makers to stay – such a shame – the views are magnificent!)

pretty edges

When we last visited here (four years ago) it was looking very neglected and dingy – I stood here with Julian, dismayed and almost disbelieving, declaring that the REAL lighthouse must have been pulled down, such a sorry sight stood before me.  But this visit, the little lighthouse is looking splendid!  Thank goodness the Taree Shire Council saw fit to restore her to her former glory.  I especially loved this little insignia – painted by someone with a steady and quirky hand.

VR 1879

It’s charming naivete reminded me of a wonderful picture book Abby and I enjoyed when she was little.

loud emily waving her parents off title page

Don’t you think!  Oh I do have such a romantic and sentimental spot in my heart for the ocean and all the good bits that go along with it.

Hope you enjoyed your weekend adventure to Crowdy Bay!  I did.


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little stitches in the cool of the eve Fri, 07 Feb 2014 10:22:24 +0000 Lily This was to be a post about one of the quilt tops I’ve stitched this week.  Alas, the last two days have been so terribly hot, that stitching on both quilts slowed down to a crawl … pressing seams became truly horrible … and neither are quite finished!  Ah well.

red cross quilt blowing for ironing rotary cutter sna scraps a corner

Thankfully, by 4pm, a cool change came through.  We threw open the windows – (Our poor little double brick house, being well insulated it does well at staying cool for ages but then, after several days of heat wave temperatures, those double bricks just hold that heat and radiate warmth – shame we can’t get the bricks to store it up and then dole it out over winter) – declared it too hot for cooking, visited a local Japanese cafe for supper, and then, with the sun finally slipping down behind the neighbours roof, the back garden became deliciously cool and I headed outdoors.  With a big glass of creamy cold milk and my favourite project basket – little cross stitches.

basket of yarn the collection cart and sheep ready for little hands

I am working on adaptations of some of my cross stitch patterns – breaking them apart and making little cross stitched figures for small hands to hold and play stories with.  This one is the Wee Shepherd.  I’ve added a few accessories – a small cart with the sheeps’ hay, there’s a bucket of water in progress, a red lean-to for the sheep to shelter in, and plans for a mama, her spinning wheel, and the guard alpaca.

They’re stitched on a lovely, slightly coarse brown aida, with the halo of the Appleton’s crewel wool providing a sweet nubbliness to the texture.  I want them to stand up – so they can be moved into position like little puppets – so I added a gusset as well as a backing, stuffed them with pure wool roving and added rice to the bottom for a bit of standing oomph.  Works well!


This caravan – my dream caravan! – is part of a new set – a family camping at the beach – with surboard, fishing gear, kangaroo, wallaby, wombat, and the family of course.  Whilst I’m stitching, all sorts of stories tumble about my head … and then I become truly carried away and think up new scenes and characters.  I just can’t stitch fast enough to keep up with it all!  Ah well … like the unfinished quilt tops, there’ll be time eventually.

scissors leaves above heat damaged soft new ones stitching

I noticed this evening – with great pleasure – that our poor old oak – who so hated the hot weather last month that she shed half her leaves! – is recovering in style.  She’s put out a whole new batch of soft, tender green leaves.  So beautiful.  Looking up into her full branches, I simply cannot imagine that in a several short weeks, she will be losing them completely and will then stand bare til September.

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clara and nellie Thu, 06 Feb 2014 09:59:39 +0000 Lily crocheted edgings

Perhaps you noticed the “”110 Crocheted Edgings” book on my tray the other day?  It belonged to my other Nanny (that is, not the one who is married to dear old Grandad, but my father’s mother). Mum passed it on to me a few years back now.  It was in this bundle of goodies …

the bundle


… that appeared during the great wool tidy up.  Oh yes!  The number of treasures that were unearthed during those days of wool untangling and winding made the tedium of it all well worth while!

This is only a small bundle of books, pamphlets and loose notes – collected and written by both my Nanny – Clara, and her mum –  Nellie. Nanny adored her mother and I remember her home being stuffed to the brim with all sorts of books, linen, clothes, fabric, furniture (including the piano her mother taught on), and bric-a-brac that had been her mum’s.  Her mum died when Nanny was only a young mother herself – I have a letter that Nanny wrote her Mum just after the birth of my dad and just before Nanny Nellie died – I have tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat just thinking about it – it was so touching and vulnerable.  She must have missed her mum terrible.  Very soon after her dad remarried a woman with two daughters who, whilst happy to move into the family home, did not want most of Nellie’s belongings – so Nanny promptly removed them, carefully stored them, and spent the next 40 years carting them about.  I clearly inherited her genes – I’m dreadfully sentimental and cannot bear to throw anything out – as our jam-packed garage, shed, sewing shed, and Julian will testify.

stitch guide edgings

The crocheted edgings book is particularly lovely.  Even Julian thinks that page above with its illustrated stitches is quite a prize.  And I’m finding the little book especially useful for my crocheted face flannels.  I stumbled upon these via the talented Kristin at her lovely blog Cozy Made Things and just knew, as soon as I saw them, that they were my cup of tea.

in front of me

So, whilst in Brisbane, I slipped off one afternoon to visit my old favourite fabric shopping haunt – The Quilters’ and Embroiderers’ Store with Karen and Leah – and bought several fat quarters.  That was a mistake.  Clearly a fat quarter is much too big to be a useful face flannel.  But a quarter of a fat quarter is a little miserly.  So I ended up cutting a square – 13 x 13 inches – from each of the fat quarters which left quite a bit of waste.  Ugh.  If I’d just bought 35 cm I’d have had two face flannels for a little more than the price of one fat quarter – and still a bit of leftover that could go in the scrap bag for a future scrappy flannel quilt.  And that would have worked very nicely because Mum, Auntie Anne and Nanny have all claimed the first round of face flannels I’ve made!  I may need to indulge in a little mail ordering – ohh look at that, they have 616 to choose from – and I won’t be making the same mistake next time.

start with blanket stitch number 26 done corner

Now I’m not sure whether Kristen doubled hers.  I didn’t – Mum wondered whether I should, but it would have made it very bulky and they would take ages to dry.  So,  I simply overlocked the edges, then ironed 1 inch hems on each side with mitred corners.  Then, using my 4 ply Paton’s cotton crochet yarn, I blanket stitched around the edge.  This makes for a super easy first round of crochet.  For this flannel, I used edging number 26!

I will add here – Nanny Clara would be alarmed at the use of such thick cotton.  She used crochet hooks that were so fine, I cannot even SEE the hook.  As for her crochet thread – it’s almost the weight of regular sewing thread!  Extraordinary.  Also – her local haberdashery had a very fine service to offer their crochet customers – a machine that you ran your fabric through and it evenly perforated a quarter inch in from the edge – which allowed for very elegant work indeed.  When I was in Taree recently – their home town – Mum and I did look for this shop – but it had gone.  Funny that.

Just writing “edging number 26″ makes me think of a rather crazy but awfully fun idea.  Another book I inherited from Nanny Clara included delicate pieces of lawn that she had practiced different sewing techniques on – different seams, hems, collars, inserts etc.  One of the pieces had several horizontal folds in it which she had finished in a variety of ways.  Can you imagine a lovely big piece of cotton/linen (don’t want plain linen, it’s too stretchy) that I iron neat horizontal folds into – and stitch them, like big pinch pleats.  The I could “divide” the piece of fabric into five even columns, and crochet each of the 110 edgings, so that it becomes a sampler!  Then I could back it, bind the edges and hang it on the wall.  Oh my goodness!  I’m so excited at the thought, I’m twitching.  It would be so beautiful.  I would do them in a selection of soft, gentle, antiquey colours.  Nothing bright.  It would have “old world charm” :-) Oh my goodness!  I’ll have to run up the road to Darn Cheap again tomorrow!  ’Cause you know, I was thinking, that’s a lot of face flannels to use all 110 edgings.

Mind you, I am planning to crochet around the edge of my latest quilt.  In red.  I think it will look fetching – we’ll have to see ;-)

Now the rest of the post is taken up with photos of my favourite pages from the bundle … there are so many wonderful projects in here that I will be occupied for the rest of my life.  Take a peek …

weldon's practical crochet

:: this is treasure of a book – so much goodness inside

ardeen's cotton advertisements

:: the advertisements are just brilliant.  And I love the advice “to just write to us” should you need anything.  Can’t you imagine ladies sitting down at their writing desks after breakfast and elegantly penning a quick note to the wool store in time for the morning mail.  Goodness, the wool would probably be delivered the very next day.

useful doyleys

:: I love that these are “useful” (others were handsome – not that Julian thought so) and that they’re spelt D’Oyleys.  Intriguing – I shall have to look that up.

two pretty shawls

:: I love this picture – their hair, the chairs, the properness of it all.

little girl

:: oh my goodness – this little girl – isn’t she a darling and so cosy!  She most likely couldn’t hear anything either.

wendy the waaaf

:: I don’t know about you, but I definitely want a Wendy the WAAAF!!!  Truly, I shall make her – and she shall sit on my dresser.


:: I’ve not heard of stiletto work, let alone tried it – have you?

the coronation

:: a memento from the coronation of our current Elizabeth.  Shows all the places the processioned passed.  So sweet.

beauty tips

:: I was a bit puzzled by a whole bundle of “beauty tips” – both Nanny Clara and Nanny Nellie were so against this kind of frippery – they were good Presbyterian women who did not have time for fancies – they would have thought it positively outrageous that a good moral woman had TIME to fret about wrinkles.

the other side

:: then I realised that on the back of each carefully saved beauty page, was a crochet pattern.  Aha.

black book

:: Nanny Nellie’s cook book – her writing is so curly and ornate I can barely read some of it …

jam drops and bible cake

… but Jam Drops and Bible Cake sound good.


:: Nanny Clara’s recipes.  I love that people wrote down recipes and saved them.  Yet another thing we’ve lost – what with our plethora of lavishly produced cookbooks and internet recipe sites.  I keep meaning to start keeping hand written copies of our favourite recipes – but never seem to find them time.

So there you go – a wee glimpse of a face flannel – I’d better take some photos of the rest before they’re all parcelled up and sent away.  And a little wander through the past.

You see, I HAVE to carefully keep all of my things so that women, three or four generations from now, will sort through my boxes of funny old things with a laugh of delight and awe. :-)


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the wool from a parched and golden land Wed, 05 Feb 2014 10:09:33 +0000 Lily  

joining Ginny’s Yarnalong over at smallthings!

gunning wool looking into it

This soft, ropey wool was sheared off a sheep from Gunning, NSW who was just this colour.  Her owners sent the wool down to Bendigo – 600km away and in a different state – to be washed, carded and spun.  Then it back it came to Gunning – a tiny little town on the Old Hume Highway in the Southern tablelands – where just 487 people live.  I bought it – in one huge hank – from a small craft store that has opened in what was once Gunning’s Courthouse.

Like many of the small towns nestled amongst these hot, crackly-dry hills, Gunning was one of many thriving communities that provided services to the prosperous Merino wool farmers.  But it’s been a long time since Australia “rode on the sheeps’ back”, so profitable for the country was Australia’s wool production.  Since then there’s been too many heartbreaking droughts – locals I spoke to in these parts assured me that they’d just COME OUT of drought – much to their relief.  Goodness, I’d hate to have seen it any drier – what was left of the grass crunched under my feet.  In the second half of the 20th century the wool price fell through the floor and has never recovered, from a high of $37 per kilo in the early 1950s, to $3.20 per kilo in 2002. And in the 1990s the vast majority of Australia’s wool processing centres went from being the lifeblood of their towns’ economic and social wellbeing to empty ruins, often perched by dry riverbeds and disused, crumbling railway lines.  It’s a sad, sad tale.


:: a view to the dry hills from the highest spot in Gundagai – even in its parched state, it has such beauty

old railway line

:: the old Gundagai Railtrack – would have transported untold kilos of wool from here to nearby processing centres

derelict wool shed

:: the Gundagai WoolShed, on a beautiful bend of Morley’s Creek, tucked under the railway line – empty and derelict

slab and tin

:: tin and slab settler’s cottage, Gunning

post office

:: for Grandad – the Gunning Post Office

golden hill empty fields post ruined church

:: the ruins of St. Mary’s, destroyed by fire in the 1980s

goulburn sheep

taree sheep

:: many of the grand old buildings in Australia’s country towns are decorated with sheep – a tribute to their significance in days past – the colourful tiled art deco sheep is from Goulburn, the sandstone sheep above is from Taree

However, one small farm in Gunning, is holding on – thriving I hope! – and offering their wool for sale at local markets – colours straight from the sheep’s backs.  (You won’t believe this, but I have LOST the card that came with my wool – I shall ring somewhere in Gunning tomorrow, find out the details and post them here!).  They have 5 ply, 8 ply, 10 ply and 12 ply, in colours from very cool creams through to dark ashy browns.  They also sell roving for felting, and beautiful hand knit jumpers from those sized for babes all the way to adults.  It was all so lovely it took me ages to choose.  Eventually I chose this dusty, earthy tone because it looks so like the landscape from which it came.  The bumpy little sheep who wear this colour are so utterly camouflaged in the fields, you can barely make them out!  Mum and I drove by many a field where we weren’t sure whether they were sheep or rocks until they moved!

cowl little bumpy stitches packed in bag

As is the magic of Ravelry, I entered my wool’s dimensions and came up with a lovely cowl pattern that would use most of my wool – Louise Zass-Bangham’s Ice Storm Cowl. That seems to be a terribly inappropriate title for a knit made from wool that came from a land so dry, don’t you think?  But the sharp, bumpy chevrons of Louise’s design, reminded me of the hills of sharply jagged grass that the sheep of the Southern Tablelands are hidden amongst.   It’s knitting up beautifully – and it is easy to fall into the rhythm of the pattern – I was even able to manage it whilst following the subtitles of a German film!

Book wise – with the start of the new school year, there’s been much reading here in Bootville.  Abby is studying literature for her final two years of highschool – I’m so thrilled and she has such a lovely booklist – many of which I have both studied and taught – and is also encouraged to explore complementary titles.  Her first unit for this semester is dominated by the World War I poet Wilfrid Owen – so I’ve suggested All is Quiet on the Western Front – similar themes to Owen but from a German perspective.  She’s reading a few chapters every night – we have a dedicated 1/2 hour to reading together each evening – and is finding it a lot more interesting than she originally thought.

all quiet on the western front

After Wilfred Owen, her class will be studying Great Gatsby so for reading aloud, we’re sharing some of Fitzgerald’s short stories – my favourite is Berenice Bobs Her Hair – oh such a good ending!  I was struck afresh the other night at how pertinent his writing is regarding the bizarre social rituals we both twist ourselves into and frantically try to extricate ourselves from – more so when we are young – no matter the decade.  This sentence especially struck me … “At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide.”  Being much closer to 45 than 18, this made me chuckle, so vivid was my memory of being a righteous 18 year old standing on that hill wondering why my parents were so blind.

berenice bobs her hair

And, whilst Abby sits engrossed in the horror of an unjust war, I’ve been reading a dear little book I picked up at the annual Bega Book Fair –  Little Pear by Eleanor Frances Lattimore.  She lived with her family in Shanghai, before World War I, where her father taught English at a Chinese University.  They are such sweet stories (with simple but lovely illustrations), and remind me of Shirley Hughes’s stories of Alfie (which are hands down my favourite children’s picture books) – a very real and natural little boy with an enthusiasm and curiosity for everything that is going on around him, coupled with a desire to be a valuable and trusted part of the family he loves – with a cultural twist that is respectful and enchanting. You can tell Ms. Lattimore writes with such fondness.  I’m so glad I found it.

little pear

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