HOMEFREE

HOMEFREE : PARADISE

(repost)

A long time ago I wrote a weekly column across thirteen years for a newspaper back in Ontario which resulted in 644 columns and a book with a selection of those HOMEFREE pieces called Adventures of a Homebody.

Here's one of those stories that does not appear in Homebody but was published in Homemaker's Magazine.

(Click on photo once  to enlarge:  you should be able to read it.)

 

Posted on June 16, 2015 at 02:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

 

A long time ago I wrote a weekly column across thirteen years for a newspaper back in Ontario which resulted in 644 columns and a book with a selection of those HOMEFREE pieces called Adventures of a Homebody.

Here's one of those stories that does not appear in Homebody but was published in Homemaker's Magazine.

(Click on photo once  to enlarge:  you should be able to read it.)

 

(repost)

A long time ago I wrote a weekly column across thirteen years for a newspaper back in Ontario which resulted in 644 columns and a book with a selection of those HOMEFREE pieces called Adventures of a Homebody.

Here's one of those stories that does not appear in Homebody but was published in Homemaker's Magazine.

(Click on photo once  to enlarge:  you should be able to read it.)

 

Grinning Robin: Painting. Stamp

re-post 

  Grinning Robin was painted back in 1991.  This Aubade got written a few years later.

At dawn yesterday the quite erratic song of a robin caused me to wonder and wander. There he (or she!) was at the very top of the tallest tree (the one my neighbour told me was a Christmas tree planted many years ago: I very much like knowing this history about that tree) and singing in distracted chunks.  The cause became apparent with a bit of observing on my part.  He was grooming!  A note or two and then raise a wing and pay attention to an armpit.  More song.  Preen breast feathers.  A note or two.  Shoulder got combed. It was an odd concert. Several finches were foraging in the foliage below the robin and maybe this 'audience' made some comment because Robin suddenly stopped, looked straight at the rising sun, gave two quick chirps - and flew away!

 Then, awhile later, I learned that you could have an image put on a stamp.  The Post Office had never been asked to have a personal painting put on a stamp before: I had to sign some extra forms but it happened.   

I am now wondering if anyone else has put their own art work on a stamp?

 

Posted on April 07, 2014 at 09:25 PM | Permalink

  Grinning Robin was painted back in 1991.  This Aubade got written a few years later.

At dawn yesterday the quite erratic song of a robin caused me to wonder and wander. There he (or she!) was at the very top of the tallest tree (the one my neighbour told me was a Christmas tree planted many years ago: I very much like knowing this history about that tree) and singing in distracted chunks.  The cause became apparent with a bit of observing on my part.  He was grooming!  A note or two and then raise a wing and pay attention to an armpit.  More song.  Preen breast feathers.  A note or two.  Shoulder got combed. It was an odd concert. Several finches were foraging in the foliage below the robin and maybe this 'audience' made some comment because Robin suddenly stopped, looked straight at the rising sun, gave two quick chirps - and flew away!

 Then, awhile later, I learned that you could have an image put on a stamp.  The Post Office had never been asked to have a personal painting put on a stamp before: I had to sign some extra forms but it happened.   

I am now wondering if anyone else has put their own art work on a stamp?

 

Plarn and Indoor/Outdoor Basket (handspun and baby camel hair)

re-post

I have been coming across the word  "plarn" in knitting blogs across several months but never in a context where it was explained until recently.*  Plarn.  Plastic yarn.  Of course!  I've been experimenting with plastic yarn - uh - plarn and searched out the dibs and dabs.  Some were rolls from Chinatown, some from the Dollar Store, the green roll was purchased at a garage sale from a man who said it was used in the florist trade, the yellow and red rolls were got at a church sale and the ladies had no idea of their use.  I can't say I am smitten by plarn. The cat hats (upper right corner - this one too big) and flowers (beside hat) and pot scrubbers are fine and fun.  But the green and the red plarn crochet very slowly on a plastic hook and I am all for slow knitting or crocheting (in the sense of evoking awareness) but this is more like crocheting with taffy!  A wooden hook is easier but there was not an "aha" moment, more a large shrug and the whole kit and kaboodle got dumped back into the WIP basket and then put into a bag and back on a shelf.  

*  A digression here.  It was on a blog that plarn was explained and I then realized that, in spite of having come across the word a number of times,  I had never investigated further as I would if a fellow knitter, in person, had mentioned it.  This got me thinking about the much of a muchness aspect of the Internet and how I tend to scoot around (at times - race!) because there is so much to read and look at and one thing leads to another (links!) and often I turn off the computer and feel - well, rather breathless.  A bit out of sorts, actually.  'Catching up' to the meaning of plarn has me wondering at trying to stroll more, not scoot.

Having plonked the plarn back in the basket my attention gladly caught and held on several handfuls of first spinning wool purchased ages ago from a woman at a garage sale who had mostly given up the fibre arts due to an increasing infirmity but who had kept her first attempts at spinning.  I gladly acquired these treasures and they have been waiting on expression beyond just being beautiful.  (She actually did see the beauty in them and I think she was pleased to pass them onto someone else who did too; most people see their first thick and thin efforts as "mistakes".)

I've been wanting to do some more Indoor/Outdoor  Vessels and while searching out some baby camel hair I knew was in my stash I came across these handfuls of first spinning.  A vessel began.
I love how the crochet stitch shows up the different thicknesses and results in such a play of texture.

The baby camel hair needed to have seven strands put together to get something that would work with the  handspun but the colours complemented and the softness of the camel wool gave a nice contrast to the firmness of the spun.  I needed it to stiffen up a bit for the top edge of the basket so on the last row I  dipped into three stitches and pulled the yarn through all three at once.




Here it is finished.  I didn't want to hide the base so one apple sufficed.  It could hold a glass bowl with tiny flowers floating in water in it.  Or just sit - holding sunshine and the wind.

It is likely destined for  an art show in June.

Posted on December 05, 2011 at 02:22 AM | Permalink

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I have been coming across the word  "plarn" in knitting blogs across several months but never in a context where it was explained until recently.*  Plarn.  Plastic yarn.  Of course!  I've been experimenting with plastic yarn - uh - plarn and searched out the dibs and dabs.  Some were rolls from Chinatown, some from the Dollar Store, the green roll was purchased at a garage sale from a man who said it was used in the florist trade, the yellow and red rolls were got at a church sale and the ladies had no idea of their use.  I can't say I am smitten by plarn. The cat hats (upper right corner - this one too big) and flowers (beside hat) and pot scrubbers are fine and fun.  But the green and the red plarn crochet very slowly on a plastic hook and I am all for slow knitting or crocheting (in the sense of evoking awareness) but this is more like crocheting with taffy!  A wooden hook is easier but there was not an "aha" moment, more a large shrug and the whole kit and kaboodle got dumped back into the WIP basket and then put into a bag and back on a shelf.  

*  A digression here.  It was on a blog that plarn was explained and I then realized that, in spite of having come across the word a number of times,  I had never investigated further as I would if a fellow knitter, in person, had mentioned it.  This got me thinking about the much of a muchness aspect of the Internet and how I tend to scoot around (at times - race!) because there is so much to read and look at and one thing leads to another (links!) and often I turn off the computer and feel - well, rather breathless.  A bit out of sorts, actually.  'Catching up' to the meaning of plarn has me wondering at trying to stroll more, not scoot.

Having plonked the plarn back in the basket my attention gladly caught and held on several handfuls of first spinning wool purchased ages ago from a woman at a garage sale who had mostly given up the fibre arts due to an increasing infirmity but who had kept her first attempts at spinning.  I gladly acquired these treasures and they have been waiting on expression beyond just being beautiful.  (She actually did see the beauty in them and I think she was pleased to pass them onto someone else who did too; most people see their first thick and thin efforts as "mistakes".)

I've been wanting to do some more Indoor/Outdoor  Vessels and while searching out some baby camel hair I knew was in my stash I came across these handfuls of first spinning.  A vessel began.
I love how the crochet stitch shows up the different thicknesses and results in such a play of texture.

The baby camel hair needed to have seven strands put together to get something that would work with the  handspun but the colours complemented and the softness of the camel wool gave a nice contrast to the firmness of the spun.  I needed it to stiffen up a bit for the top edge of the basket so on the last row I  dipped into three stitches and pulled the yarn through all three at once.




Here it is finished.  I didn't want to hide the base so one apple sufficed.  It could hold a glass bowl with tiny flowers floating in water in it.  Or just sit - holding sunshine and the wind.

It is likely destined for  an art show in June.

re-post

I have been coming across the word  "plarn" in knitting blogs across several months but never in a context where it was explained until recently.*  Plarn.  Plastic yarn.  Of course!  I've been experimenting with plastic yarn - uh - plarn and searched out the dibs and dabs.  Some were rolls from Chinatown, some from the Dollar Store, the green roll was purchased at a garage sale from a man who said it was used in the florist trade, the yellow and red rolls were got at a church sale and the ladies had no idea of their use.  I can't say I am smitten by plarn. The cat hats (upper right corner - this one too big) and flowers (beside hat) and pot scrubbers are fine and fun.  But the green and the red plarn crochet very slowly on a plastic hook and I am all for slow knitting or crocheting (in the sense of evoking awareness) but this is more like crocheting with taffy!  A wooden hook is easier but there was not an "aha" moment, more a large shrug and the whole kit and kaboodle got dumped back into the WIP basket and then put into a bag and back on a shelf.  

*  A digression here.  It was on a blog that plarn was explained and I then realized that, in spite of having come across the word a number of times,  I had never investigated further as I would if a fellow knitter, in person, had mentioned it.  This got me thinking about the much of a muchness aspect of the Internet and how I tend to scoot around (at times - race!) because there is so much to read and look at and one thing leads to another (links!) and often I turn off the computer and feel - well, rather breathless.  A bit out of sorts, actually.  'Catching up' to the meaning of plarn has me wondering at trying to stroll more, not scoot.

Having plonked the plarn back in the basket my attention gladly caught and held on several handfuls of first spinning wool purchased ages ago from a woman at a garage sale who had mostly given up the fibre arts due to an increasing infirmity but who had kept her first attempts at spinning.  I gladly acquired these treasures and they have been waiting on expression beyond just being beautiful.  (She actually did see the beauty in them and I think she was pleased to pass them onto someone else who did too; most people see their first thick and thin efforts as "mistakes".)

I've been wanting to do some more Indoor/Outdoor  Vessels and while searching out some baby camel hair I knew was in my stash I came across these handfuls of first spinning.  A vessel began.
I love how the crochet stitch shows up the different thicknesses and results in such a play of texture.

The baby camel hair needed to have seven strands put together to get something that would work with the  handspun but the colours complemented and the softness of the camel wool gave a nice contrast to the firmness of the spun.  I needed it to stiffen up a bit for the top edge of the basket so on the last row I  dipped into three stitches and pulled the yarn through all three at once.




Here it is finished.  I didn't want to hide the base so one apple sufficed.  It could hold a glass bowl with tiny flowers floating in water in it.  Or just sit - holding sunshine and the wind.

It is likely destined for  an art show in June.

A Village Experience Oak Bay Victoria BC Settling .....

(repost)

It's been seven  months since I moved to the Village.

When I first came to Victoria 23 years ago I had expected to be renting a house and garden in the Village, a happenstance occurrence:  I was not familiar at all with Victoria; but that did not happen.

So the boys and I rented and then owned houses and gardens in Fernwood.  

I love Fernwood and put down many roots.  

But Oak Bay Village has a library, parkettes,  sushi restaurants, grocery stores, banks, thrift stores, pharmacy,  galleries,  post office, city hall, police station, fire hall.

Fifteen years ago I joined the Monterey Senior Centre and every day I found myself in the Village for the 'club' with its activities .... and the village for its library, sushi restaurant  etc.  

It made sense to 'settle' in the Village and  I am presently  'perched' in a suite  'two blocks from the Village'.  The house and garden evolve.

From day one it felt right to be in the Village and the details of the "why so?"  have unfolded across the seven months:

I was two blocks from downtown in my hometown of St. Thomas, Ontario.  Two blocks from downtown where we had our children and owned our first home in Georgetown, Ontario.  Two blocks from the Beaches in Toronto, Ontario where we raised the boys and owned Hill Cottage. The Village ambience is familiar and is  my roots.

On my early morning walk I noticed the  beautifully carved pumpkins hanging from the lamp posts, wondered who had done them, and thought to check out the Oak Bay News for the information.

The merchants who were open had already swept the leaves from the sidewalk in front of their business.

I chatted with a woman abut the weather and the week or so of fog.  

People were carrying boxes of donations into the 'Club' for the Rummage Sale this weekend.

Yesterday a deer had walked across the Avenue on its daily stroll but that was earlier;  what am0unts to rush hour in the Village was happening and I imagine the deer have learned to avoid this.

The vine in front of the Italian deli has lost most of vibrant red leaves;  the bulbs that city workers planted in the seating area in front of pharmacy by the bus stop are waiting on spring;  the scent of bacon frying mingles with the sound I release walking through leaves in the gutter.

Two blocks and I am home.  Red house finches and chickadees are at the feeders, a junco strolls along the balcony railing as  a mass of bushtits swoop in to the suet.

Posted on October 22, 2013 at 10:26 AM | Permalink

 

It's been seven  months since I moved to the Village.

When I first came to Victoria 23 years ago I had expected to be renting a house and garden in the Village, a happenstance occurrence:  I was not familiar at all with Victoria; but that did not happen.

So the boys and I rented and then owned houses and gardens in Fernwood.  

I love Fernwood and put down many roots.  

But Oak Bay Village has a library, parkettes,  sushi restaurants, grocery stores, banks, thrift stores, pharmacy,  galleries,  post office, city hall, police station, fire hall.

Fifteen years ago I joined the Monterey Senior Centre and every day I found myself in the Village for the 'club' with its activities .... and the village for its library, sushi restaurant  etc.  

It made sense to 'settle' in the Village and  I am presently  'perched' in a suite  'two blocks from the Village'.  The house and garden evolve.

From day one it felt right to be in the Village and the details of the "why so?"  have unfolded across the seven months:

I was two blocks from downtown in my hometown of St. Thomas, Ontario.  Two blocks from downtown where we had our children and owned our first home in Georgetown, Ontario.  Two blocks from the Beaches in Toronto, Ontario where we raised the boys and owned Hill Cottage. The Village ambience is familiar and is  my roots.

On my early morning walk I noticed the  beautifully carved pumpkins hanging from the lamp posts, wondered who had done them, and thought to check out the Oak Bay News for the information.

The merchants who were open had already swept the leaves from the sidewalk in front of their business.

I chatted with a woman abut the weather and the week or so of fog.  

People were carrying boxes of donations into the 'Club' for the Rummage Sale this weekend.

Yesterday a deer had walked across the Avenue on its daily stroll but that was earlier;  what am0unts to rush hour in the Village was happening and I imagine the deer have learned to avoid this.

The vine in front of the Italian deli has lost most of vibrant red leaves;  the bulbs that city workers planted in the seating area in front of pharmacy by the bus stop are waiting on spring;  the scent of bacon frying mingles with the sound I release walking through leaves in the gutter.

Two blocks and I am home.  Red house finches and chickadees are at the feeders, a junco strolls along the balcony railing as  a mass of bushtits swoop in to the suet.

(repost)

It's been seven  months since I moved to the Village.

When I first came to Victoria 23 years ago I had expected to be renting a house and garden in the Village, a happenstance occurrence:  I was not familiar at all with Victoria; but that did not happen.

So the boys and I rented and then owned houses and gardens in Fernwood.  

I love Fernwood and put down many roots.  

But Oak Bay Village has a library, parkettes,  sushi restaurants, grocery stores, banks, thrift stores, pharmacy,  galleries,  post office, city hall, police station, fire hall.

Fifteen years ago I joined the Monterey Senior Centre and every day I found myself in the Village for the 'club' with its activities .... and the village for its library, sushi restaurant  etc.  

It made sense to 'settle' in the Village and  I am presently  'perched' in a suite  'two blocks from the Village'.  The house and garden evolve.

From day one it felt right to be in the Village and the details of the "why so?"  have unfolded across the seven months:

I was two blocks from downtown in my hometown of St. Thomas, Ontario.  Two blocks from downtown where we had our children and owned our first home in Georgetown, Ontario.  Two blocks from the Beaches in Toronto, Ontario where we raised the boys and owned Hill Cottage. The Village ambience is familiar and is  my roots.

On my early morning walk I noticed the  beautifully carved pumpkins hanging from the lamp posts, wondered who had done them, and thought to check out the Oak Bay News for the information.

The merchants who were open had already swept the leaves from the sidewalk in front of their business.

I chatted with a woman abut the weather and the week or so of fog.  

People were carrying boxes of donations into the 'Club' for the Rummage Sale this weekend.

Yesterday a deer had walked across the Avenue on its daily stroll but that was earlier;  what am0unts to rush hour in the Village was happening and I imagine the deer have learned to avoid this.

The vine in front of the Italian deli has lost most of vibrant red leaves;  the bulbs that city workers planted in the seating area in front of pharmacy by the bus stop are waiting on spring;  the scent of bacon frying mingles with the sound I release walking through leaves in the gutter.

Two blocks and I am home.  Red house finches and chickadees are at the feeders, a junco strolls along the balcony railing as  a mass of bushtits swoop in to the suet.

PLAYING WITH FIBRE: ORIGAMI DRESS/JUMPER

 

Inspired by Japanese paper folding, wondering how fabric would translate into  a garment,  led to this design.  Each one is different because it is the material, the depth of the first fold, the desired width of the item that govern subsequent folds.  There are only three cuts - neck, armholes.  And, except for the addition of sleeves, the sewing is a minimum,  mostly anchoring cloth to cloth.  Pockets occur, kickpleats, unique patterns.

This one is folded from an exquisite piece of Zimbabwe cloth.  A flower knit from bamboo holds the final drape.
The material has a satisfying stance between a soft drape and loosely housing the body;  yes, an example of clothing as architecture

Made from a medium-weight denim the garment definitely houses the body; the pocket is deep; edges are left free.

This was one of the earlier versions when I was scouting the linen racks in thrift stores for fabric to 'cheaply' experiment with and also provide the patina of age and use, and to take part in the adventure of reuse, renew, recycle.  An old cotton table cloth,  there was  fabric left after folding into the basic garment so I cut it off and turned it into sleeves and 'filled in' the kick pleat.  It serves as a lounging gown with a cozy drape.

Posted on October 08, 2007 at 05:30 AM | Permalink

 

Inspired by Japanese paper folding, wondering how fabric would translate into  a garment,  led to this design.  Each one is different because it is the material, the depth of the first fold, the desired width of the item that govern subsequent folds.  There are only three cuts - neck, armholes.  And, except for the addition of sleeves, the sewing is a minimum,  mostly anchoring cloth to cloth.  Pockets occur, kickpleats, unique patterns.

This one is folded from an exquisite piece of Zimbabwe cloth.  A flower knit from bamboo holds the final drape.
The material has a satisfying stance between a soft drape and loosely housing the body;  yes, an example of clothing as architecture

Made from a medium-weight denim the garment definitely houses the body; the pocket is deep; edges are left free.

This was one of the earlier versions when I was scouting the linen racks in thrift stores for fabric to 'cheaply' experiment with and also provide the patina of age and use, and to take part in the adventure of reuse, renew, recycle.  An old cotton table cloth,  there was  fabric left after folding into the basic garment so I cut it off and turned it into sleeves and 'filled in' the kick pleat.  It serves as a lounging gown with a cozy drape.

Inspired by Japanese paper folding, wondering how fabric would translate into  a garment,  led to this design.  Each one is different because it is the material, the depth of the first fold, the desired width of the item that govern subsequent folds.  There are only three cuts - neck, armholes.  And, except for the addition of sleeves, the sewing is a minimum,  mostly anchoring cloth to cloth.  Pockets occur, kickpleats, unique patterns.

This one is folded from an exquisite piece of Zimbabwe cloth.  A flower knit from bamboo holds the final drape.
The material has a satisfying stance between a soft drape and loosely housing the body;  yes, an example of clothing as architecture

Made from a medium-weight denim the garment definitely houses the body; the pocket is deep; edges are left free.

This was one of the earlier versions when I was scouting the linen racks in thrift stores for fabric to 'cheaply' experiment with and also provide the patina of age and use, and to take part in the adventure of reuse, renew, recycle.  An old cotton table cloth,  there was  fabric left after folding into the basic garment so I cut it off and turned it into sleeves and 'filled in' the kick pleat.  It serves as a lounging gown with a cozy drape.

Safety Pins

 

(click on photo to enlarge)

I imagine this is a very small sampling of the variations on safety pins - and what I use for closure or decoration on garments.  Many times  across a lifetime have I thought grateful thoughts for whoever invented them!

I don't know the purpose of the long one at the top with the bend along its length;  it says Tomado Holland on the head.  ??  It spans the breadth of a shawl very nicely with a weft effect.

The large and small one with a solid head are heavy and likely have some specified use, perhaps in industry. 

The curved ones are diaper pins, I am pretty sure.

Kilt pins are recognizable.

The long ones without circles at the ends also mystify me. 

The brass shower curtain ring slips easily through woven or knit or crochet fabric and acts as a closure as well as giving a loop on which to hang looped yarn from which the garment was made.

The stitch holders can be used likewise.

To the right of these is an interesting paper clip which 'pins' safely but not as handily.

If you can tolerate the damn red bouncing balls or know how to stop them this site tells about the inventor of the safety pin,  Walter Hunt.

Posted on December 29, 2009 at 01:01 AM | Permalink

(click on photo to enlarge)

I imagine this is a very small sampling of the variations on safety pins - and what I use for closure or decoration on garments.  Many times  across a lifetime have I thought grateful thoughts for whoever invented them!

I don't know the purpose of the long one at the top with the bend along its length;  it says Tomado Holland on the head.  ??  It spans the breadth of a shawl very nicely with a weft effect.

The large and small one with a solid head are heavy and likely have some specified use, perhaps in industry. 

The curved ones are diaper pins, I am pretty sure.

Kilt pins are recognizable.

The long ones without circles at the ends also mystify me. 

The brass shower curtain ring slips easily through woven or knit or crochet fabric and acts as a closure as well as giving a loop on which to hang looped yarn from which the garment was made.

The stitch holders can be used likewise.

To the right of these is an interesting paper clip which 'pins' safely but not as handily.

If you can tolerate the damn red bouncing balls or know how to stop them this site tells about the inventor of the safety pin,  Walter Hunt.

Art Deco Clock.............

 

If you come across a splendid old art deco clock that is working but not working in the way that you can depend upon to get you to the airport on time - which is likely why it was at the church rummage sale - then you can stop the time at some meaningful event like a birthday or anniversary or a time of day most meaningful and enjoy its new purpose.

Posted on December 28, 2009 at 01:01 AM | Permalink

If you come across a splendid old art deco clock that is working but not working in the way that you can depend upon to get you to the airport on time - which is likely why it was at the church rummage sale - then you can stop the time at some meaningful event like a birthday or anniversary or a time of day most meaningful and enjoy its new purpose.