Quince and Quire

The Green Kingdom

Like many things on this earth, it looks best up close. The details spring to life. The greens reveal themselves.

 

And, as with so many things the seven-year-old likes to make, it was spontaneous. "Let's make a terrarium!" Before I could mention research, or necessary supplies, she was gathering up the potting soil and rummaging for an empty glass container. 

 

She uprooted her solo succulent; she collected mosses from our property; she pulled tiny cones from the nature shelf. She dumped in the dirt, and with gentle hands she patted in the plants. 

 

I know there are books that would tell us how we should have done a terrarium (we'll see how the various plants adapt to their new home). I know there are colored stones and glittering sand that we could have purchased. I know that we could have tried to make a more dynamic arrangement. But why? Why not embrace what we have, and see what it will become?

The world, in miniature. The forest, cupped in her hands. The magic of making beauty: of finding beauty in small places.

May views

Purple & blue

It seemed for so long that spring was never coming to our little corner of the world, but at last, we have proof. Snow glories and crocuses! Tiny, fleeting--but bits of color amidst the brown bracken and downed leaves of autumn.

 

My daughter and I were inspired to make this purple lady to celebrate. (Don't let the photo fool you; she is a mere 2 inches tall.) I'm starting to think purple is an April color. Might be time to review the color book of the seasons . . . 

The handmades

Before we get into a week of winter sky-inspired crafts, I wanted to show you a few little things that I made this Christmas for the kids. 

I wanted to avoid buying more, more, more. I thought about how I could extend the play value of things they already had and, when possible, use materials that I had on hand. Here's what I came up with. 

I made this dress from my own pattern for one of my daughter's favorite dolls. The fabric was left over from a quilt project. I was so happy to finally do tidy, tiny seams on the arms and neckline. I know the beads are a bit much, but when you're six, the more the better!

For that same doll, I made a little sleeping bag to keep cozy on cold winter nights. It has been very popular so far for having play dates at other dolls' houses. I put that big pleat in to make it easier to get the doll in and out. The diamond-print fabric is by Lecien. 

Little brother got a sleeping bag for his friends too, and I'm showing it to you in all its rumpled reality. He really likes it so I'm happy to find it crammed next to his pillow with a gnome tucked inside. I made three berths to accommodate the many small friends he likes to carry around. The handles are good for swinging the friends around as though they are on the ferris wheel, which is important in my son's world. My mom made that wee cat on the left back in the '80s. The map-print fabric is Japanese and came from an off cut of a different project. I had no pattern and made things up as I went and it turned out fine.

And then I made a little scarf for my son using upcycled plaid flannel pajamas. The seams on the pjs were worn out and frayed despite repeated mending, but the fabric itself was still sound and soft. I added some star print flannel and a band of red. 

The last project was one my daughter and I did together for our local friends. We grew herbs this summer, dried them, and packaged them in glass jars to give as gifts. My daughter was so proud of this long-term project! It was fun and easy and brought so many nice memories of our summer garden.

First

We harvested our first lettuce from the garden. It grew from last year's seed, unannounced and unplanned, as so many of the best things in life are. I pulled it from the ground and brought it inside to wash, but first had to admire its green beauty. As I lay it on the table, ants scampered from the dirt, small slugs waited on the veins, and down on one of those fine white roots balanced a tiny spider, as though on the high wire--swaying, bouncing, pivoting, swinging--perhaps wondering why the earth had moved from dark to light. 

Who knew there would be so much life on a single plant?

June!

Oh, the colors of June! I love them. I guess this means winter is really and truly over! 

I am hoping to be in this space a bit more frequently in the coming weeks. Thanks for staying with me--it's always nice to know you all are out there. 

Spring garden play mats

Here's something fun to share with you, after the rather gloomy post yesterday: spring garden play mats. I made them for a children's party at which there will be dancing. The friend who volunteered to lead the dance happens to be a classically trained ballerina, and so when she suggested that we needed props for a garden-themed choreography, I was happy to get to work. I was also inspired by the colors and stylized blooms in Kevin Henkes' new book, My Garden.

I made the mats at high speed and with no pattern--I literally sketched on the back of the fabric with chalk before cutting and sewing. (The mats are quite large; the laundry basket made a good template for cutting some of the round shapes.) It was the only way I could convince myself that it was no big deal to make eight of these in two nights. (The eighth mat, a pink tulip, isn't pictured here). I also panicked at the thought of turning corners inside out (why? I don't know) and so I chose an odd construction method, which was to sandwich the layers of fabric and batting and then sew around the edges with a zigzag stitch, leaving raw edges. I suppose I could trim the edges closer, like faux serging, or perhaps even bind them with bias tape, but for now I like the rough look. Most of all, I like that they are finished in time for the party. 

My kids love these: so far the mats have served as blankets, table cloths, hopscotch mats, capes, picnic mats, yoga mats and, of course, a giant garden. That's not bad for two nights of speedy sewing.

Ordinary magic

Happy Monday!
 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 

Frost harvest

We had our first hard frost this week. I went out in the gardens to find pumpkins not quite ripe on vines turned limp and pale. Hydrangea petals like bits of old wallpaper. The last poppy: still brilliant, head bowed. The stone rabbits unperturbed. A world of sodden stems, tattered ribbons, flattened globes. Peach, buff, brown, orange, pink: the last blush of cheeks, before the world goes cold.

Walnut ink success, part one

I made walnut ink this weekend. It was simple. I don't know what my problem was the first time. I think I got lazy and didn't research anything and therefore didn't cook the walnuts--that is the secret. You take the walnuts and toss them in a pot. Bring to a boil and simmer for eight hours or so.

Before you look at the walnut mush in the next photo, take a minute to see what pretty ink comes out of the husks, as seen in the photo above. 

After eight hours of simmering--four hours on Saturday, then four more on Sunday--this is what the formerly-green walnuts looked like. Yeah, they smelled funky too--kind of a mix between cloves, moldering furniture, and fruit. I took the pot outside when it seemed like the stew was done, and got ready to strain the ink from the husks and nuts.

I poured the liquid through cheesecloth in a strainer, and then composted the solids. Thus far, that is all that I have done to make ink. Other tutorials (I'll list them at the end) recommend another round of straining through a stocking, or adding vinegar, alcohol or gum arabic to the ink, which I have not done. 

I got about one cup of liquid from the nuts. I suppose I could have gotten another quarter cup or so if I really wanted to. In the measuring cup, it looked like murky soup. I expected it to make an opaque, dark line when I used it in my nibs.

It was actually a transparent, still-quite-watery ink, but I like the color. Here is a Q, just written with my Mitchell size 2 nib on a scrap of Fabriano paper.

I tried abstract shapes on Lana watercolor paper with a bit of gold gouache added in, using my hand-cut reed pen.

 

The scribbles that emerged from my Brause 66EF were, not surprisingly, darker, given that the nib comes to a fine point. 

There were some issues regulating the flow of ink out of the nib. I think if I simmer the ink again in order to distill it further, this will get easier. 

Here's a portrait of my poor Mitchell size 2 (oh, rusty and covered in walnut ink!) and my reed pen, still bearing glints of gold. 

The official summary of my methods:

1. Gathered up black walnuts from my yard.
2. Put them--whole--in a stainless steel pot and added water to cover the nuts.
3. Brought the nuts and water to a boil.
4. Simmered the walnuts on low, covered, for four hours. (Why four hours? That's how much time I had at home before our afternoon engagement).  Turned off the pot and let it sit overnight.
5. Simmered the walnuts for another four hours. Turned off the pot and let things cool. 
6. Took my pot, ladle, strainer, cheesecloth and glass measuring cup outside to avoid permanent stains inside my home.
7. Filtered walnut ink through the cheesecloth-lined strainer. 
8. Took the ink inside and started writing right away! The entire straining-of-ink, writing-of-letters and photographing-of-results section of this process took place in one hour, while the kids took a siesta. If my letters look rushed, they were!

Here are a few of the many tutorials on making walnut ink.You will notice there are many slight variations in their methods.

http://www.ehow.com/how_2101025_make-walnut-ink.html

http://home.insightbb.com/~denevell_books/making_walnut_ink.htm

http://quazen.com/recreation/crafts/how-to-make-walnut-ink/ 

http://www.magpienest.org/feathersofhope/131/walnut-ink

    

When I have time to do more experiments with my ink, I will show you the results! For the time being I am simply happy to have made art out of walnuts in my own yard! 

Equinox wreath

Making a wreath for the autumn equinox has been a tradition in my little family since we moved to this area several years ago. This morning my son and I went on a walk in our yard to find supplies. This should not be a difficult task, given that we have ten acres. Much of that acreage is wild and forested, though, so it takes a bit of creativity and a willingness to embrace, as it were, various noxious weeds and wilted flowers in one's wreath. Our baskets above have sumac, burdock, rose hips, and dried astilbe blossoms.

I started with a metal wreath frame, and affixed the sumac florets with wire. My young son was too intrigued with the wire clippers and the long sharp floral wire, so I soon abandoned those tools and began weaving the stems of each plant around the metal frame so that he could help me.

In addition to the sumac, burdock, rose hips and astilbe, I added grasses, asters, and a few leaves of dusty miller from the garden. Some of these things will remain preserved; some of them will wilt. The interaction of each element and the way in which it weathers on our front door are part of the appeal. 

I noticed other people have wreaths on their minds as well: see one in bloom here, and the intention to make one here. 

Time to wonder

I need to take a little break from this blog. It's summer, after all, and I find that I have much to catch up on. I hope that you all will join me again in August (and welcome, new readers who found me through Resurrection Fern!) after I have had a little time to . . .

. . . read my stacks of books . . . 

. . . admire the colors of my garden . . . 

. . . sew for new babies . . .

. . . wander the neighborhood in handmade shoes . . .

. . . learn from small hands . . . 

. . . and celebrate ten happy years since this photo was taken. 

See you next month! 

Tutorial: Meadow garden skirt

We had our first Outdoor Art Day of the summer at our place this week. (See a summary of last summer's art days here). Inspired by some of the outfits in this book, we decided to make things to wear out of flowers, herbs, leaves and weeds. 

Here was our first meadow garden skirt.

The boys liked meadow tunics.

If you would like to make your own meadow garden skirt or tunic, here's how. 

First, assemble your supplies. You'll need scissors, an embroidery needle, yarn (ribbon or twine would work well too), and of course, flowers, leaves, herbs, weeds, etc. We found that burdock leaves were sturdy and frilly, and that yarrow, nasturiums and marigolds all worked well for flowers. Dill flowers add a nice sculptural, modern note to your garment!

Leave a fairly long stem on all leaves and flowers, so you have something to work with. You can always trim them later. If any stems are delicate, you might also want floral wire.

Second, lay out the leaves you have selected according to how they will be strung onto the yarn. I layered a hosta leaf on top of each burdock leaf, and then alternated those with some long weedy leaf that I found in my meadow.

To string them on the yarn, pierce the stem with the embroidery needle. 

You have a couple options for attaching flowers. Some can simply be draped over the top of the yarn. Others can be wired on, with floral wire or a twist tie. Or you can pierce holes in the tops of the leaves with your embroidery needle and gently push the flower stem through--that's what I did for most of the flowers pictured above.

When you are satisfied with the arrangement and quantity of blooms, simply tie on the skirt (or tunic), and enjoy!

Garden tales

Today I am sharing with you a few of my favorite illustrated fiction titles about gardens and gardening. These books are written for children, but any adult who appreciates wonderful art and good writing will enjoy them. In fact, I have to say that one of the best things about becoming a parent five years ago--aside from being with my beloved babes--was the re-initiation into the world of picture books. What a fabulous invention! Our house is now overflowing with them, in several languages, in all conditions, old and new, fiction and non-fiction, poetry too (of course!). 

The Curious Garden is a newly-released title tells the story of Liam, a little boy who lives in a gritty city. The smokestacks puff black clouds; the landscape is grey and brick; nobody goes outside--except Liam. One day he discovers an errant patch of flowers upon an abandoned railway. He cares for the plants, becomes a devoted gardener, and soon, the garden migrates to every corner of the city--and so do other people. This wonderful tale of transformation is filled with vibrant, detailed paintings that have a nostalgic, stylized feel. Author-illustrator Peter Brown moves deftly between close-up, middle distance and broad views, letting readers enjoy the full scope of the garden's expansion. Attentive pre-readers will enjoy the parts of the narrative that are conveyed only in pictures.

Gerda Muller is well-known for her seasons board books, which were updated and re-released in the last few years. Muller has been making books forever, it seems; we have a French edition of the Three Little Pigs from 1964, which she illustrated. She reminds me a bit of the American authors and illustrators Alice and Martin Provensen in the scope and duration of her career. 

The Garden in the City follows the adventures of siblings Ben and Caroline, who have moved into a new home in the city with a large, neglected yard. Together with their parents, they plot out what plants they want to grow and then learn about soil, seeds, and species as they watch their garden flourish. The story mingles the fictional narrative with non-fiction sidebars that describe how to plant seedlings, how to make leaf crowns, how to press leaves, and so forth. The story follows the garden through the four seasons, and is filled with Muller's characteristically-detailed illustrations. (We have a companion book, Around the Oak, which has more adventures of Ben and Caroline).

The Gardener is the story of Lydia Grace, a young girl living in the midst of the Depression who is sent to live with her uncle in the city when things at home get desperate. The epistolary narrative presents Lydia's letters home to her mother, father and beloved grandmother, for whom she was named and with whom she shares a passion for gardening. Young Lydia Grace makes it her mission to cheer up her sad and sour-faced uncle by planting flowers, vegetables and herbs in every container she can find, in all nooks available, until her little corner of the world is a riot of green and growing things. 

The emotional heart of the story comes when she reveals the verdant garden that she secretly created on the roof of the building where she, her uncle, and friends Ed and Emma live and work. "I've tried to remember everything you ever taught me about beauty," she writes to her parents and grandmother as she describes getting ready to show the secret space to her uncle. Illustrator David Small has a deft and agile style that conveys much of the emotion of the story.

 

Linnea in Monet's Garden mingles gardening, art appreciation, history and geography. The fictional Linnea travels to Paris with her friend Mr. Bloom and learns about Monet's life, home, gardens and painting technique. Chatty and cheerful, LInnea's conversations with Mr. Bloom keep the book lively and interesting for kids, while the mix of drawings, photographs and reproductions of Monet's paintings offer a variety of intriguing visual media. Swedish author and illustrator Christina Bjork and Lena Anderson have collaborated on several Linnea books. 

In a Spring Garden is a classic; the copy pictured above is the one my father gave to me when I was a child. Published in 1965, the book features a selection of haiku by a number of Japanese poets, paired with collage-paintings by Ezra Jack Keats. (You probably know Keats best from The Snowy Day.) The verse in this book is gorgeous; brief, of course, and vivid, as all good haiku should be. Keats's simple, evocative illustrations use contrast, texture and silhouette to amplify the imagery of the verse.

This last book, Rosie Flo's Garden, is a bit off-topic--or rather, off-genre; it is a coloring book by British illustrator Roz Streeten. Streeten has created a series of the delightful Rosie Flo books, all of which feature clothing that is waiting for people to inhabit it. The garden edition of the series is just so much fun; fanciful dresses are suspended in front of lawn mowers, mingled with giant flower bulbs, cavorting amidst rabbits, and riding on the seesaw. I think I may have to keep this coloring book for myself!

 

For those of you who want non-fiction books about gardening with children, Sharon Lovejoy is a great author to start with. We also enjoy A Child's Garden. 

And finally, look who came to visit our herb garden (he seemed to prefer the gravel path to the herbs): a common whitetail skimmer (Plathemis lydia). As the name suggests, they are quite common, but I had never seen one before. This one is a male. His abdomen looked blue in the sunlight, though it looks white here. My daughter and I were delighted to learn about a new bug.

Let me know of any favorite garden tales you may have!

Catching up

You may have heard about the current rain situation in our region. The fickle, festive, itinerant rain; the rain that comes and goes and returns again, with moody sky and heavy brow and sudden fervor. We had a lot of that rain last week, right when my husband's family was visiting from their own notoriously rainy part of the world. It made for an interesting combination. And the puddle boots got a work out. 

We did get some blue sky and pink-tinged clouds.

The back yard--such as it is--decided that it is now located along the equator, and sprouted accordingly. 

The rain brought mossy friends for our chives.

The delphiniums relied on our smokehouse for a little support in all that rain.

We had enough sun for my intrepid family to go tr(ash)easure hunting on our property. Who needs a flea market when you've got 200 years of farm implements and kitchen utensils hidden on 10 acres, just waiting to be found again? The coffee pot above caused a lot of excitement; I think we'll have to plant something in it. 

My mother-in-law tutored me on the Kitchener stitch, so I am one step closer to being finished with this little project. I'll have details and more photos of the final, felted bag next week.

Tomorrow: walnut and quill!