Picnic

Sewed my heart out last week getting ready for Picnic.


& it was so worth it. Not only did i happily sell a bunch I was visited by many frIends from near & far. So grateful to be a part of the picnic festival this year!


My side of the "booth"



Martha & I


Heathers amazing folding vintage hat. Seriously folds like a fan and slips in your purse. Loved it!


Ida Pearl modeling a bonnet.


Chris favorite vintage bicycle.

All in a row

We are soaking up the last bits of August. Picnic, beaches, bike rides....oh my.
This morning I find myself in the park, yawning as I push swings. Gearing myself up for a bike ride home. Reminding myself its only 10am. It might be the case that summer is wearing me out.

Back Porch Studio

I set up on the back porch this afternoon to get down to some sewing. I have a craft faire this weekend & I am short on stock. It was so pleasant to be outside, watching the kids play whilst doing my work. Nothing sweeter!

My new-to-me machine keeps unfolding its grandeur. New tricks & tweaks are showing me how beautiful it handles. I have found a gem for sure. & I do believe I will keep stumbling upon them the more I experiment.

For those curious it's a Nelco LaBelle Xonic, Made in Japan.

Hero

We set out early,
Milo found a yard sale in the neighborhood
And we all went.

Among many fun things they had
A bread machine, stellar art supplies & books
I stumbled on a sewing machine

You see,
My machine,
I have treasured.
A gift from Pat, whose no longer
With us
& being sentimental & all
The machine is important to me.
I learned to sew,
& create like I have never done.

But the machine has
Been worse for the wear,
The handle for the presser foot recently broke
And every time I sew
I am jabbed in the fingers by jagged metal.

Its crossed my mind
Perhaps a new one?

& low
There was one.
Undervalued by its owner
I got it for a song....
& with a bit of tweaking
By my hero above....
I was sewing by the evening.
How sweat it is.....

Afternoon Office

Backyard Harvest

Mint, pole beans, pepper, squash, broccoli, oh my!




Wounded butterfly on Milo's pole beans

Anger, part one

He melted down on the beach
Literally his mind steaming,
Face blotched and red,
Smoke pouring from the holes he bore in me with his eyes.

Each crash of the waves echoed
His smashing of rocks & boards on the sand.

He was letting me know, I don't like it. Not.at.all.

It was the beach. A new one to us. He hadn't realized when we left, we were headed elsewhere.

We paid the price, he & I
Doing an angry opera on the beach
Flaming mad at one another,
We scowled and screamed,

He climbed the rocks
Swinging a bit if rope like a whip
Letting his exhausting anger go

I let mine wash away through my feet,
Pour out of me like a sieve

I finally found him
Lying on the trunk
Of a tree, gazing out at the
ocean,
I wrapped my arms around him and the trunk, told him we could leave now.

Defeated, he consented.