Crochet at Play by Kat Goldin (I actually crocheted a thing!)

Long-term readers of my blog will know that crochet skills have all but eluded me. FOR FIVE YEARS. Val Celia and Gina valiantly attempted to teach me whilst stuffing me full of cake once. I'm afraid that I had such a bad case of addled baby brain and Littlest, being very little indeed at the time, needed such regular jiggling to put her to sleep/feeding with mushed carrot/tiny person ablutions that I failed to grasp the loopy code and my crochet flowers looked as though they'd contracted blight. Then came the Making Winter project. Crochet was on the list of good things to do in winter that Mrs Thriftyhousehold and I compiled We organised a workshop with Joanne of NotsoGranny and lo! -we made a coaster each. Success (ish). Then Mrs ThriftyH went on to the giddy and impressive heights of a cushion crocheted in string. Meanwhile any skills I'd gained seemed to evaporate through shameful neglect. My coaster lay in a basket-of-partially-finished-handmade-things and taunted me.

Fast forward 18 months and both Joanne and Kat Goldin made mind-bogglingly wonderful accessories for the Red Nose Day Dolls. Secretly I wanted a grown-up sized crochet owl hat and ballet outfit. Shortly afterwards I received a lovely email from Kat asking me to be part of the blog tour to celebrate publication of her book, Crochet at Play. I was honoured but secretly a little horrified. How could I break it to Kat about the gargantuan crochet fail? Surely I would be letting her down if I didn't make a thing. I hurriedly organised a refresher session at Joanne's house.

 First ever successful (slightly wonky) crochet in the round and first ever puff stitch.

Then a surprising thing happened. The hours of peering grumpily at online tutorials, instructions dimly remembered from the cake and crochet day, the partially-finished coaster and the unadulterated desire to learn all seemed to combine. I chose a pattern, the flower and bud cowl, and with Joanne's patient guidance it began to take shape (albeit a teeny one for monkey). Buoyed by my slightly wonky success I rashly bought some swoon-inducing Manos silk blend and began to hook a cowl for Littlest. It did not look like a tangly birds nest. It had puff stitches that look like little buds. Joy!

It was satisfying and soothing to make and the colours made my eyes very happy. I finished it (I wove in the ends and everything!) It was seized upon with glee and is often worn as a Bruce-Springsteen-style headband whilst doing busy four-year-old things.

What can I say about Kat's book? The premise of the pattern collection is crochet for dressing up, for playing in and to stimulate childrens' imaginations. There's a sleepy octopus to have naps with, a black-eyed Susan throw to snuggle under, witches' hats and a little wolf cardigan. The hedgehog mittens are to die for as is the little mermaid tail snuggle cocoon.  The images are seriously smile-inducing and make me wish I were five again. The photographer? Kat herself. The technical editor? Joanne of Notsogranny (they're quite a crochet team - have a peep at the The Crochet Project pattern lookbook). 

It's an utterly joyful book and my desire to make something from its pages was the final kick up the crafty bum that I needed to crack this crochet business.

Stop motion animation by Kat Molesworth

The final revelation is that it felt good to do the loopy thing with my hook. What's more I had some cowl envy so I scaled up Kat's pattern and made a flower and bud cowl for myself. Oh yes. I wore it to the car boot sale yesterday where it kept out the chill. It felt so snuggly and soft that I didn't take it off until bedtime. I crocheted a garment (a very small one)! It is a crafty miracle. Thankyou Kat and Joanne and Gina and Val and Celia. Your persistence has finally paid off. 

Right. I fancy some simple crochet wristwarmers next. Can anyone recommend a good pattern?

The Shadow Year - honesty seedpod necklace

I'm always honoured when I receive a commission request. No matter what the design or occasion might be it's a good feeling to be able to make something that might have some meaning for the recipient. A few months ago Hannah Richell contacted me enquiring about the honesty (lunaria) seedpod necklace I first made in the Autumn of 2011 as part of my Nature Table Series. She told me that she had written a novel in which honesty and in particular a necklace in the form of an honesty seedpod played a pivotal role and that she was interested in commissioning this design to coincide with its publication.

Hannah writes: I stumbled upon Emma’s ‘Silver Pebble’ jewellery designs while developing the idea of an ‘honesty necklace’ within the novel. I wanted one of my characters to give a gift to another character and the idea of a silver seed head pendant struck me as perfect. It was amazing: a quick Google search instantly brought up an etsy photo of an almost identical necklace to the one I had imagines in my mind's eye.

I felt connected to Emma and her work on several different levels and, unable to stop thinking about the silver honesty necklace on etsy, I knew I had nothing to lose in asking Emma if she would take on a special commission for me.

Honesty seedpods remind me of my Grandfather's garden. I would pick them in the late summer and separate the thin papery layers to release the tiny penny-like seeds. My daughters love to collect seeds,  especially the littlest, and she discovered honesty herself last autumn. She asked specifically to be taken up to a spot on the path leading to our village wood where we had discovered some that had self-seeded. I kept finding the seeds in her pockets.

They have nostalgic associations for Hannah too: I loved the idea of featuring lunaria in the story because half of my novel is set in the early 1980s and for me, it’s always been a plant steeped in childhood nostalgia. I can still remember my mum’s dried flower arrangements dotted around our house in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, vases filled with stems of silver honesty seed heads that shimmered and rustled as you passed by. I can hear the papery crackle of them under my fingertips, and recall how they would split, or crumble like ash if you pressed too hard. They were so delicate and fragile, like iridescent paper moons. To my mind honesty just seemed to fit with the era I was writing about.

It also married up neatly with a key theme of the novel, for buried at the heart of The Shadow Year – a tale about a group of friends who decide to drop out for a year and try to live self-sufficiently in a remote, abandoned cottage – lay the idea of truth and lies, and the deceits we sometimes tell ourselves and each other to justify our less honorable actions.

I made two honesty necklaces for Hannah, each with three seeds. I do love the design of these seedpods, especially the little lines (funicles) that connect the seeds to the edge of the pod. They are satisfying to make. Very excitingly one of the necklaces has been part of a giveaway organised by Hannah's Australian publishers. You can read more about the premise of Hannah's novel and her story-telling process on her blog.

Note: I have long been a fan of Richard and Judy's bookclub so I was excited to find out that Hannah's first book, Secrets of the Tides, had been selected for their book club last summer (the interview with Hannah begins 1 minute in). It was so good to put a face to the lovely emails that had flown back and forth between us. I ordered a copy of Secrets of the Tides and became so engrossed in it over the Easter holidays that I read it in just a day or so. It's engrossing and an excellent read.

Spring Nature Trail

One day last week Littlest came home from school and announced that she wanted to 'go and find nature things'. I've written a post over on Sarah Raven's blog, Garlic and Sapphire about what we found.

Seaham seaglass

Candlish Bottleworks and glass foundry was built on the cliffs at Seaham, County Durham, and began producing glass in 1853. It made almost every colour imaginable for medicine and poison bottles, vases and homewares and everyday drinks bottles. Reds, blues, yellows and even opaque glass were made in its furnaces.

Candlish bottleworks, Seaham

At the end of each day the excess molten glass and any broken pieces were thrown over the cliffs into the sea. The beach below has one of the highest percentages of seaglass of any beach in the world. This information alone is enough cause paroxysms of excitement and pilgrimages to Co. Durham for most crafters but add the fact that the factory closed in 1921 and therefore the majority of the seaglass pebbles are at least 90 years old and there is danger of overload. This glass is precious stuff, yet you can simply drive to Seaham and pick it up.

Last summer I made a pilgrimage from Nana's house in N Yorkshire. The siren call of the treasure was just too strong to resist. Heavens to Betsy - such treasure. Here's just a little of what I found:

Swoon. See that blue piece near the top right? It has stripes. It's called 'end of day' glass, formed when different colours of glass were used to make different products during a single day, then the accumulated stripey glass was chucked into the sea.

I go into a slightly meditative state when I'm beachcombing. I can forget everything and just focus on the search for treasure. Those two hours or so spent on Seaham beach were good.

Using this seaglass to make jewellery is thrilling. I love the thought of the ninety or more years the glass has been in the sea, the thousands of times it has tumbled over pebbles and been washed against the beach. I like to think of the poison bottle or vase that batch of glass may have been used to make and the year in which is may have been made. The colours are wonderful and I especially love the subtle aqua shades and vivid blues. Combining the smooth glass pebbles with shells, mother of pearl buttons from the 1930s and facetted fluorite makes little collections of tiny treasures similar to the ones the girls and I collect on Southwold beach.

I made a necklace using Seaham seaglass for Lucy of Attic24 in our seaside-themed swap last year. The arrival of the wonderful warm Spring sunshine and a request for two seaside-themed commssions made me dig out my the rest of my drilled stash and *ahem* order a little more from Paula who collects and drills her Seaham beach finds.
     

A small collection of necklaces that I have made using this wonderful antique glass is in my Etsy shop.

Note: there are still spaces available on my Beginner's silver clay workshop on Saturday 22nd June.

Spring notebook

Spring has finally arrived, around a month late. The delay in the emergence of Spring flowers has meant that it's even more of a joy to see them now that it's here. Trees and plants that would normally flower in sequence are suddenly blooming all at once which is the upside to having endured snow in April.

Another benefit of the delay in the seasons is that daffodils are still flowering and in some cases only just emerging. This is lucky- I'm working on a commission for a little daffodil necklace at the moment - I needed to make some sketches. 

The tiny spots of colour in the garden have multiplied a little in the last week or so. They have been like a teeny version of the Splash of Colour project for me - very, very cheering.

A glimpse of the first swallow always gives me an embarrassingly enormous thrill. I admit to peering at the skies from around the 10th April in the hope of seeing one. Perhaps appropriately it was Twitter that alerted me to their imminent arrival. Someone in my timeline announced that they'd spotted twelve of them flying in from the sea on the coast of Norfolk. I saw my first one on Tuesday. It was such a heartening sight. Quite tricky to draw though - they're blimmin' fast.

Whilst we were on holiday in Suffolk two weeks ago the wind was so cold and biting on Aldeburgh beach that a friend and I could only manage to stand it for a minute or two. Our eyebrows were numb afterwards. I think the most welcome difference in recent days has been the gentle warmth and, joy of joys, the sunlight.

When the little ones returned from school yesterday they scampered about with windmills and bubble wands and picked daisies. I snapped this with my iPhone and hadn't realised until afterwards that I'd captured these snakey bubbles as they formed.

It's hard to express the enormous soaring relief at being outside without the need for scarves and mittens. Thank goodness Spring is here.

Fossils and a fountain pen

Late last summer I agreed to take on a project drawing fossils at The Sedgwick Museum. I sketch my designs before I begin working with silver clay and admittedly I have made pen and ink drawings of the dog a few times but until this point I hadn't really view myself as an illustrator. I don't even have GCSE art. I was incredibly honoured and, if I'm honest, a little daunted by the idea of making accurate drawings of ammonites.

This museum, part of Cambridge University, is like an enormous cabinet of curiosities. There are 1.5 million fossils in its collection, from stromatolites, the very earliest traces of life captured in rock to a gargantuan fossil spider as big as a bull mastiff. (Megarachne - what a fantastic name). There's an ichthyosaur found by Mary Anning and this is the welcoming party waiting near the entrance to greet every visitor:

Yikes.

I love how the collections are laid out - similar to how I imagine Victorian collectors would display their finds, only at the Sedgwick some of ammonites are as big as dinner plates and in display cabinets set into the floor there are entire plesiosaurs and, ahem, collections of sizeable dinosaur coprolites. Members of the public are encouraged to bring fossils they may have found to museums for identification. My task was to draw key specimens from ten categories of fossils from the Sedgwick collection as a visual aid to the classification of finds brought in by museum visitors. No pressure then.

Specimens were selected for me and placed into special handling boxes. I drew them with my fountain pen (note inky fingers) in a quiet collections room surrounded by boxes and drawers filled with fossils. 

Perhaps my favourite group of specimens was the sea urchins and sand dollars (Echinoids) shown below. I adore the design and shapes of these fossils, their five lines of symmetry and star-like markings. I was particularly taken with the species of seaurchin in the centre of the image below, with its bulbous clubs used to fend off predators. I reminded me of Dave Grohl at his drumkit.

This illustration project was an absolute joy. It was a privilege to spend time with the museum staff and I admit to spending a fair amount of time simply communing with the contents of the cabinets. 

This ammonite is bigger than my head

Both the process of drawing itself and the quietness of the museum were intensely relaxing - rather welcome, especially during the frenetic period just before Christmas. Working on this project was most definitely a good thing and it made me realise that I can actually draw. I'm making sketches as part of my Spring notebook at the moment. The fossil illustration project has made me a little more confident with my pen.

Note: I have listed several new workshop dates recently, including:

Beading workshop 8th June (2 spaces available)

Beginners' silver clay workshop 22nd June (4 spaces available). Drop me a line here.

One a day

My recent daffodil post was wishful thinking- the season seems very very reluctant to change. This week Littlest has had another bout of 'flu-like illness and after complaining of a very sore neck we made a hasty visit to the doctor. With enormous relief we discovered that all was relatively well and that calpol and rest were all that was needed. I can hardly express how grateful I was when the doctor told me how last year's wet summer has meant that there have been three peaks of 'flu this season rather than the usual one, especially in young children. It hasn't been my imagination: in terms of Calpol consumption this winter really has been rather grim.

In recent days I realised that I needed a strategy to prevent me from succumbing to calpol cabin fever and possible where-is-the-blimmin'-Spring gloom. I remembered this post by Julie about one small creative endeavour per day. She chose to make a square of beautiful crochet towards a blanket, almost as a daily meditation and to fend off any lurking glass half empty-style thoughts. I didn't have a large project in mind but I'm resolving to take a creative half hour or so for myself per day if possible.

This afternoon Littlest rallied a little and she was even able to help me with my first project. I have been dreaming of a quick biscuit version of this divine cake and thought that an almond and cherry biscuit recipe given to me by a friend might have scope for tinkering. My first attempt was far too wet and spread too much - I needed more dry ingredients to counter the lemon juice. This afternoon, though, my alterations were a success. These biscuits aren't quite as lemony as Nigella's wonderful cake as life's too short to drizzle individual biscuits with lemon syrup, but the flower-shaped madeleine pan, the crunch of the polenta, the slight tang, the chewy centre and Eldest's joy at scoffing two as soon as she came in from school has shown me that Julie is definitely onto something. I just have to think up a small plan for tomorrow.

There's a chocolate version too - it's been popular at my workshops.

Lemon polenta biscuits

Cream together 6 oz sugar (I used golden caster) and 3 oz softened butter. 

Add 4 oz ground almonds, 1.5 oz plain flour (gluten free works just as well), 1.5 oz polenta, zest of a lemon, juice of half a lemon and 1 egg, lightly whisked. 

Mix together thoroughly

Divide between the recesses of a madeleine pan or space walnut-sized portions onto a parchment-covered baking tin

Bake at 160 (fan oven) for 12-15 minutes or until golden around the outside.

Woof several with a cuppa

Chewy chocolate biscuits

Cream together 6 oz sugar (I used golden caster) and 3 oz softened butter. 

Add 4 oz ground almonds, 1.5 oz cocoa powder,0.5 oz flour (gluten free works just as well) and 1 egg, lightly whisked.
Mix together thoroughly

Place walnut-sized portions onto a parchment-covered baking tin 

Bake at 160 (fan oven) for 12-15 minutes or until very slightly darker around the outside.

Scoff several as a small antidote to the overly long winter