Lately I've been enjoying stitching. I'm still stitching my sister's belated birthday present, because each time I get to feeling almost finished, I decide to embellish it further. This could continue for a while, however the more stitches the pillowcase collects, the firmer the fabric becomes and she may well feel like she's sleeping on a piece of cardboard. So I will stop soon.
But stitching provides me with such a nice rhythmic, solo pursuit.
As a mother it's rare these days that I get to do anything solo. So stitching is usually left to bed time, when I pore over my colours, selecting them with care, and then stitching. Sometimes I colour match incorrectly and spend the next evening carefully unpicking, but it's all part of it. And the truth is, sometimes those imperfections are part of the beauty of stitching.
My grandmother is an incredible stitcher. Sadly, she's almost blind, however I know each of my sisters and I cherish anything that has been hand-stitched by our Marsy. I constantly seek inspiration from her embroidery and can spend many minutes looking with amazement at her incredibly tiny stitches. I have this towel that she must have given to me at least ten years ago, which I've never used because it's too special. I know she'd want me to use it, but look at the work, no way Jose!
Who's your inspiration?