Journal
Iris chrysographes
One of the things I love about gardening is the plants that tell stories - their own stories and those of friendships.
This amazing iris chrysographes came into bloom in my garden yesterday -
I was given the plant a few years ago by my friend Holly and I have been dividing the clumps, so that this year they are beginning to thread through other plants in the way I hoped.
Every time a plant blooms that I have been given by someone I think of them and their generosity and friendship. It is like a special reminder to pick up the phone, put a date in the diary, a connection between gardens and gardeners, a thread of beauty and care.
It was good timing - these iris grow wild along the river banks in Myanmar - one of the countries that I have been researching this week as my youngest daughter is considering it as a gap year destination for 2017-18.
It has diverted me from reading up about political unrest and unsafe vehicles to imagining visiting water meadows flecked with flowers.
Much better to concentrate on delights over danger.
Naturalising alliums.
Alliums dominate my garden at this time of year.
I used to grow them commercially - they were an easy crop, reliable, happy in rain, great vase life - and now those same bulbs, globes of saturated colour, have moved themselves into every corner of the garden.
It has made me re-think how they can be used.
The orchard here is right at the edge of the garden and you walk through it to get from the drive to the workshop.
It is a beautiful space - where we pitch out tents when we camp in the garden - flat grass that is allowed to grow long for much of the summer, fading out to the boundary where rambling roses climb up the ancient hawthorns that were once a hedge.
The orchard was planted where I used to grow raised beds of flowers - we took away the wooden bed edges and sowed grass seed, before planting out damson and greengage trees.
For the past 5 years ghostly rows of alliums have sprung up - remnants of the old planting - quite happy being mowed down late summer and competing with the grass.
It makes me think that an allium meadow would be possible - it would look fantastic with tall buttercups and dog daisies - wafting in the breeze - all resistant to heavy flattening rains.
I have been sketching alliums for the past couple of weeks - trying to capture their essence, their solidity along with their airiness.
I'm sure that some of the hundreds of drawings will make it onto a product at some point - but in the meantime there are pdfs in the Members area which can be downloaded for personal use.
Making Embroidered Pillowcases -
Making things for people I love is very important to me.
I love the process, sitting and quietly thinking of the person, the joy they bring to my life, happy times, sad times.
I also have a bit of a problem with works in progress - my creative eyes are too big for the time available, reproachful bags of half finished projects are stuffed into all my cupboards.
I remember, as a teenager, reading a magazine article about the actress Jane Seymour who - flying home from the States to visit her father who had been admitted to hospital - spent the flight embroidering a pillowcase for him.
A practical and emotional mix of meditation and concentration, hands busy, mind free to remember and feel.
A token of love and, in some ways equally important, a project that can be finished in a small amount of time.
Unlikely to join the rest of the unfinished things.
My eldest daughter is leaving for University in September - she has been living away from home for a couple of years so it isn't exactly flying the nest, but she will be further away.
I won't be able to text her to meet for a coffee, I shall have to book a train.
It gives me such joy to see her grow and thrive, to head out into the world and be independent.
It fills me with terror too - especially this week.
So I have been embroidering pillowcases for her - simple bright cacti and succulents, to fit with her collection of plants - my drawings transformed into thread - a reminder of home.
I suspect it is a in some ways a charm too - a physical embodiment of the loving thoughts that made it - a feeling that it will protect her in the new life that she is soaring into.
The instructions are below -
YOU NEED
- Cotton pillowcase
- Saral Wax Free Transfer Paper - Graphite
- Pencil
- Threads
- Needle
- Simple Line Drawing
Put your pillowcase on a flat surface and put a piece of Saral paper and the drawing on top, wherever you want the motif.
Trace round the drawing with a pencil - press firmly to transfer the design to the pillowcase.
Thread your needle with 2 strands of embroidery thread (the skiens have 6 threads twisted together so you need to split them in three), knot the end and start to follow the lines of the drawing using chain, back or stem stitch.
There are great how to videos on YouTube if you haven't embroidered before - these three stitches are very easy.
You can use an embroidery hoop for this - which will keep the design taut - but I never do. I just iron a little more firmly when I've finished.
When you have finished all the lines make sure the ends of the threads are secure, trim any long threads and iron on the back.
You can also write messages in the same way - just put a piece of paper on top of the Saral and write your message, then follow the line of your writing with thread.
My drawings of cacti are in the Members Area as downloadable PDFs and I also have a very limited number of packs available at cost to members with a square of Saral paper, 3 colours of thread, a needle and a print out of the cactus drawing.
All you would need is your own pillowcase.
Scannography
Last week, clearing out some old issues of Gardens Illustrated I came across a photo by Isabel Bannerman of a parrot tulip taken on a scanner.
It looked like it was fairly simple - and the ideal thing to try with our large gift boxes - so I decided to have a go.
First I picked some gorgeous orange parrot tulips and placed them onto the glass of our office scanner (this is an Epson Workforce printer - cheap as chips)
Then I put our largest size gift box over it (to be honest any box that doesn't let light in would work but it helps if it is the same size as the scanner bed)
Then I hit scan.
And the photo at the top was the result - I cropped out the edges but that is all.
So now, of course, I want to have a go at scanning everything.
My youngest daughter suggested that the cat might be up for it as it involves being in a box (this is a joke - please don't report me for animal cruelty)
It turns out that this is a well established photographic technique that had passed me by - you can check out this article if you want to have a go at anything more complicated.
Isabel Bannerman's amazing photographs are on show here till the end of the month
I would love to see your results.
A Room of One's Own - .
Over the past few months I have been feeling restless and rootless at work. I couldn't understand what the matter was - I love my job but I just couldn't settle to write or plan. Perhaps you recognise the feeling.
Then I realised it dated from a few months ago when we moved to hot desking, sitting wherever the work is and getting on with it.
That is efficient for day to day making and dispatching, for crunching through spreadsheets and answering email, but it turned out to not be good for anything creative, anything that needed a clear head.
In 1929 Virginia Woolf published "A Room of One's Own" which argued that without a dedicated room, creation is impossible. It made me think.
We are out of space in the workshop and I don't have a room in my home to convert into an office so first I tried working at the kitchen table.
I ate a lot of biscuits, I became easily distracted by unloaded dishwasher and unwashed dishes. I remembered why I had moved the business out of the house in the first place.
Then I thought that maybe what I needed wasn't a room, but a space - almost a sacred space - that was purely dedicated to creation. There isn't anyone else in the house during the day so, as long as I cleared things away, I could pick the best spot and make it my own.
I chose a corner of the sunroom - a rather neglected room that is mainly dogs and welly boots - and made my creation corner from a round table and a bedside chair. So far it is working.
My top tips for making space to create when you don't have a room.
1. Turn your back on household mess. If you can't see it, it can't bug you. I sit at a round table facing the garden.
2. Work out the minimum stuff you need in order to create - for me that is a notebook, a diary and a laptop, pens and a camera.
3. Dedicate the space. Make it like an altar, include a couple of things that make your heart sing. I have a bunch of sweet peas and a beeswax tea light by me as I type this. I particularly like tea lights as they smell wonderful and burn in about 4 hours which is a good writing session. Choose the prettiest water glass, the nicest jug.
4. Spend time setting out the space in the morning and clearing it up at the end of the day - think about where all your things can go when you finish - a box or a basket, a briefcase or bag. If it is set up when you start you are less likely to walk off leaving chaos. I have a simple rectangular cane basket that tucks under the table and sweep everything bar lap top, flowers and candle into it at night.
5.Put out drinks and snacks at the beginning of the session - if I don't do this I spend 50% of my time rootling around the fridge. I also find that if I have a big bottle of chilled water and a glass on the table by me I romp through my daily water.