|
(Before you give me heck I know Shingles is a nasty medical issue!)
Hubby and I just returned from a visit to Ontario. My brother-in-law and his wife celebrated their 50th anniversary in grand style with all kinds of trips down memory lane through photos and stories. They have a lovely family and many friends, a testament to the kind of people they are. The trip was also to bury Gregg’s parent’s ashes and hold the memorial for his mom who passed away last October on her 100th birthday. We also interred the ashes of my sister-in-law’s mother Gladys in the same plot. Many stories ensued as everyone took turns recounting fun memories and tales of their lives; it was a lovely tribute, happy and bittersweet all in one. One tale about Gregg’s parents made me smile; the meeting and beginning of the love story between his father Jim and mother Wynn. Apparently Jim, an air force pilot met Wynn at a dance. Wynn and her friend liked to go to the air force dances, but only when it was officer night as they hoped to meet and perhaps snag a man of rank. The two met and danced the night away and at the end of the evening while a bit imbibed; he put her in a cab and only realized he hadn’t asked her last name the following day. I guess she’d made a big impression because he decided to dial every number in the phone book, starting with the A’s and asking if a Winnifred lived there. Being of Irish decent, he was touched by a bit of luck, because Wynn was an Achurch, the third listing in the book. How sweet and mega romantic is that! Perhaps if her last name had begun with Z, I might not writing this blog, but I’d like to think he would have forged ahead risking blisters from dialing the old rotary phone to the last number. Before I left Nova Scotia for our visit, we had a bus load of 25 rug hookers from the states. These gals covered a lot of territory on their pilgrimage to visit the Rug Hooking Museum of North America and every rug hooking shop along the way. They still managed to find inspiration in our store even though we were pretty much at the end of the line. I can imagine the multitude of wool and patterns stowed away on that bus! It’s going to be a very busy winter for those rug hookers! Our lives have been hectic lately. I like to keep busy but I’m worn a bit thin. We spent two weeks priming and painting cedar shingles, 30 bundles in total, first priming them dark grey and then the black topcoat for the apartment building we own. We’ve put it on the market but couldn’t let it go in a sad condition. The insides are immaculate but some of the shingles were brittle so we’ve hired carpenters to replace them. We tried to keep the cost down by doing some of the work ourselves but painting the shingles and hanging them to dry in our garage was laborious and tiring. Panicked for time, we painted till the wee hours of the morning so by the time we left for Ontario we weren’t speaking as the stress of it all had taken its toll and our tongues. We were so sleep deprived we didn’t really care; silence meant we didn’t have to form full sentences or linger in coherent thought. The time away recharged our batteries back to full strength, it was so relaxing there we almost hated to come back home. People keep asking if we are enjoying our boat and I hate to answer, “Not really” but it’s the way it is. She’s been left to bob up and down as there is only so much time to play. The electric winch gave up the ghost on our first sail and there’s been no time to fix it. Anyone that knows the Nonsuch is familiar with the ginormous sail that needs raising. It takes the two of us to pull it up by hand, Gregg at the mast pulling and me in the cockpit trying to steer the boat with my foot while taking up the slack. Gregg wants to take it all apart first to check and see if it only needs a cleaning before calling in the expert. This past weekend was the 2019 Nonsuch Rendezvous and we were going come hell or high water and although we got there late, we had a great time. Of course it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Our outhaul shackle pin snapped as we were about to cross the start line of the race which put a damper on the moment but there was a silver lining. That story will come later. Well that’s it for now more shingles wait!   This waWynn and Jim, young and in love. Below is Jim (right) in his captain seat of a 747 he flew for Air Canada. This was his last flight from Hawaii before he retired in 1981.   We are currently in the process of hand-dyeing and making Mini Skein, 6 Values for your rug hooking and punch needle shading projects. We've started with Skin Tone and Flesh Tone and Mossy Green but plan to do an assortment of beautiful colours. We've already received orders for Sunflowers and Rope so stay tuned.
Six - 6 Value Skeins, 2 ply 100% Wool, beautifully hand dyed for $25.95 a package. Beautiful beach colours in limited edition bundles. Only two each and once sold no more. Sapphire, Turquoise, Emerald, Kelly Green and Coral Each bundle contains: Two 1/4 yds of dyed wool, one light and one medium Two Mini Skeins of hand dyed yarn to coordinate, Dyed roving Scissor Bling with beads selected to match each bundle. $52.95/Bundle 
 LILIES by Tanya McNutt  butSpring and summer, aka the two growing seasons, seem to be riddled with a lot of death and destruction. I stood crestfallen before my gardens this morning, surveying the ruin after the deer had feasted on my prized plants. I wondered why I do this every year. Einstein said only a fool does the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome, so I guess I’m a class A fool. I suppose, each year, I hope for a different result but I’m forsaken time and time again. This year was a trifecta of misfortunes. I watched my hard work be destroyed in spring when the four legged apocalypse decimated my prized lily foliage, dining on the tender shoots as the leaves poked their heads out of the ground, chewing the slender leaves down to nubs. Sure the leaves continued to grow but were now pointless, literally and figuratively. What I love most about this graceful plant are the long and graceful leaves, the flowers are secondary. Speaking of flowers, a few nights ago, the deer descended the back hill and devoured hundreds of newly forming buds, leaving one or two per plant so I’ll know what colour and type of lily they would have been, a sample to show what I’ll be missing. Oh why am I kidding myself, it’s just a tease, they’ll be back in a few days to claim what’s left. For years my lilies were safe but now the deer have acquired a taste for them. The book says they eat bark and woodland foliage, since when did they crave something more exotic? On the path to my house, they passed a smorgasbord of delights to feast on, but no, the last stop on their journey before the road and the harbour is Chez Christine’s, All You Can Eat Salad Bar, so tell all your friends. I see they’ve started eating the flowers on my hostas too, which is okay as long as they leave the leaves alone, once again I like the variegated foliage more. I know its only a matter of time before I come out one morning and one of my giant four foot round hostas looking like it had a brush cut. I planted these back in the day when I was ignorant of what plants deer prefer so I live with the consequences and whine when it happens. Spring remained cold this year, or so it seemed. It took a while for winter to leave but as soon as the weather warmed enough to work outside I spent days on my knees removing last year’s dead matter and weeding the new growth already encircling my plants like armies converging on a castle. Our soil is super rich so weeds grow at a faster rate and dwarf the plants quickly, choking out and strangling their vitality, stunting their growth so they produce less flower heads. I worked hard and the gardens were pruned and preened of the interlopers and I thought I would wait a week before I lay down the weed cloth, newspaper and mulch, figuring I’d have one more go at the grass roots that are long and interwoven under the soil, tentacles that reach out and shoot up all over the dang place. But, the best laid plans and he who hesitates is lost was never truer because the rains came, and came and came some more. Each droplet a torrential weapon, beating the tender shoots now soggy and limp, into the ground. It rained as if an ark might appear over the horizon. Weeds love rain. They survive nicely without the sun, thrive actually with amazing speed, they shot up out of the dirt and dwarfed the plants around them in a matter of two weeks. There is grass over a foot higher than my peony bushes which stand at least three feet high. The grass and weeds came back bigger and better than before. It was disheartening watching from the kitchen window as my gardens were overran with the unwanted. Then the final scourge; the winds. Just as the plants recovered and grew after the weeks of rain, it blew like stink for days. Timed perfectly with the blooming peonies, irises and poppies, they smashed the delicate flower heads into the ground, the dirt fracturing and then rotting their delicate petals. All of their essence and beauty beaten into the earth, lying limp and helpless around me. I rescued some of the peonies for a small bouquet but the other flowers were too frail and damaged to revive. So why do I put in the effort when the rewards are snatched away time and again. Every year I shake my head and say I won’t do this again, but then I forget over winter and dream about all the beauty and colour that will bloom for my pleasure. I love flowers. I love pretty things. I especially love the smell of peonies so much so I have eight plants of varying colours to enjoy. If only I could. I could erect a fence to solve the deer problem but mother nature is a different story. I love her when she’s kind, respect her when she’s mean, and know it isn’t personal, but really, give us a break mother! The weather seems to be harsher and less predictable, perhaps it’s time to put my efforts into something more guaranteed like planting flowering shrubs that withstand weather better and don’t require as much attention as their fairer cousins the perennials….. LILIES by June Gorman Whynott  LILIES by ME   Waiting for Midnight being hooked by Christine Morse. It comes in various sizes.
Upsy Daisy Runner 
Canadian Floral
Fabulous Ewe  We also have 50 new Dyed Abrashed Wools posted on the website! |
 |  |
 |  |
 How Much Is That Doggie.. Bell Pull |  |  Our Happy Hooters Bell Pull - Daytime. The same pattern but so very different colour plans. Lovely! |
 Mahone Bay Three Churches Framed |  Designed by Charlene Scott, a whimsical Mahone Bay's Three Churches beautifully hooked. |
 |  |
Both of these iconic patterns are called Historic Lunenburg.
Two very different styles, both beautiful!
Two very different styles, both beautiful!
All Gulls, No Buoys, Sue Cunningham Design
 Designed and hooked by Yoshiho Nara, she has graciously offered this pattern to the studio. |  No Crib For His Bed |
This William Morris Orange Tree looks like a sculpted Persian rug, I can imagine running my hand across its velvety surface. Excellent! Beautiful colour plan.
This pattern is SHIRLEY, a whimsical Jacobean design from our collection. It was expertly hooked by KYOKO OKAMURA as a stitch sampler. Everything about it is truly amazing, from the special techniques in the Jacobean flowers, stems and leaves, to the hooked plaid border. Zoom in on some of these flowers to see the clever detailing. I really like the bit of hounds-tooth patterning in the flower in the upper left corner of the center design. She has done a basket weave for the center design background. Every square inch of this rug has been lovingly brought to life. Beautifully done Kyoho.
The Dye Guy has been dyeing like crazy. 80 plus yards have gone through the dye bath this week and more coming! The elves are working the evening shift as well! The shelves are looking plump!
 |  |
 |  |
 |  |
 |  |
 |  |
Friday April 19th : CLOSED
Saturday April 20th: 10-5pm
Sunday April 21st: CLOSED
Monday April 22nd: 12-5pm
Saturday April 20th: 10-5pm
Sunday April 21st: CLOSED
Monday April 22nd: 12-5pm
A couple of years ago I’d never heard of a Dorade box. Then we buy our first sailboat and we remove them and I find myself getting an education on refinishing tired teak. The wood was in pretty sad condition and I remember arguing that we needed to replace them with new, because the crumbling finish was exposing mold and the wood underneath looked dyer than the Sahara. Surely it had breathed its last breath and would fall apart in my hands.
But then I stripped them with the heat gun, cleaned them with a teak product and after only one coat of varnish, I had to tell hubby he was right. That doesn’t happen often, well not as often as it should, but he just smiled and reminded me that he had 50 years’ experience with boats and I barely had a couple of months under my belt….point taken.
So I stripped the boxes, the cockpit table, cockpit floor, cup holder, the wheel, the swim ladder steps and the handrails and made them look brand new. It was magic. Teak is hard and tough and amazing wood and working with it has bumped its way to the top of my list of things I like to do. It gleams of gratitude.
Twelve coats of Epiphane later, the boxes were installed and looked good as new and will last our lifetime with a light sand and recoat every couple of years. This year I hope to have canvas covers made for them to slow the sun damage and cut down on the work needed to keep them looking fresh. One disappointing thing I have learned, nothing lasts forever on a boat, maintenance is ongoing, the sun and salt guarantee it.
The deck under the boxes was a sad sight. Forty years of grime and hardened sealer took a while to remove. The sealant now dried and hard, had filled in the dips of the nonskid surface that would need a lot of gouging out with a small chisel. There were a few broken fingernails, scraped knuckles and a bit of cursing, the air a sickening shade of blue under the canvas cover. Our Nonsuch 33 has two boxes so that meant double the work but there is a deep satisfaction knowing these newly rejuvenated boxes sit on top of a pristine area. Call me crazy but I wish the boat had more teak items to refinish like a lovely combing top that I drool over on other boats, but hubby thinks I might change my mind over time so we could use less.
But then I stripped them with the heat gun, cleaned them with a teak product and after only one coat of varnish, I had to tell hubby he was right. That doesn’t happen often, well not as often as it should, but he just smiled and reminded me that he had 50 years’ experience with boats and I barely had a couple of months under my belt….point taken.
So I stripped the boxes, the cockpit table, cockpit floor, cup holder, the wheel, the swim ladder steps and the handrails and made them look brand new. It was magic. Teak is hard and tough and amazing wood and working with it has bumped its way to the top of my list of things I like to do. It gleams of gratitude.
Twelve coats of Epiphane later, the boxes were installed and looked good as new and will last our lifetime with a light sand and recoat every couple of years. This year I hope to have canvas covers made for them to slow the sun damage and cut down on the work needed to keep them looking fresh. One disappointing thing I have learned, nothing lasts forever on a boat, maintenance is ongoing, the sun and salt guarantee it.
The deck under the boxes was a sad sight. Forty years of grime and hardened sealer took a while to remove. The sealant now dried and hard, had filled in the dips of the nonskid surface that would need a lot of gouging out with a small chisel. There were a few broken fingernails, scraped knuckles and a bit of cursing, the air a sickening shade of blue under the canvas cover. Our Nonsuch 33 has two boxes so that meant double the work but there is a deep satisfaction knowing these newly rejuvenated boxes sit on top of a pristine area. Call me crazy but I wish the boat had more teak items to refinish like a lovely combing top that I drool over on other boats, but hubby thinks I might change my mind over time so we could use less.
   |    |
This year is the 40th anniversary of the Rug Hooking Guild of Nova Scotia. Forty years! Wow! This is a big deal peeps! Of course, rug hooking has been going on a lot longer than forty years, but organizing it into a guild and starting our rug school has really brought this craft into focus in our province. It brought us together and made us part of something bigger than a simple little past time, giving many the opportunity to explore and share this passion. Like a tiny seed the Guild has grown like a mighty, 40 year old oak.
Rug hooking has provided many with added purpose, something outside the day to day comings and goings, something creative and special. Ask any rug hooker that travels across North America and even further afield to take workshops, attend schools and congregate for hooking events, how this craft has enhanced their lives and you’ll be inundated with smiles and abundant tales.
Most of us will agree rug hooking has enriched our lives and for someone like me it’s been life altering. I’m immersed up to my chin with both feet planted in this business providing quality supplies, unique designs and wool to drool over. It has certainly added a dimension to my life that I would have never thought possible back in the day of 9 to 5, pushing a pencil in the office grind. Being able to explore my creative side in a profession that can’t really be classified as work, I thank my lucky stars every day that my circumstance has allowed this blessing to happen and continue. When I turn the key and walk through the door of my studio, I’m met with the most beautiful array of colour and this visual feast shapes a broad smile across my lips and a flutter in my heart. Truly, entering the door is like receiving a hug from a rainbow. I can hardly believe my good fortune and I pinch myself occasionally to make sure it’s real.
I’ve been thinking about a commemorative pattern to celebrate the four decades of the guild. I think about the rug hookers I’ve met, some have passed while others continue carrying the torch; some have been here from the start while newbies continue to join in. I’ve been hooking for 20 years, have been a guild member since day one, yet it seems only yesterday that I pulled my first loop.
Although when one thinks of rug hooking people come to mind, all the many friends we have made, teachers that had given their time and shared their knowledge, but we mustn’t forget the real hero behind our passion, the magnificent sheep. Whether you hook with wool yarn or wool fabric cut into strips, it is clearly the most desired medium for this art form. The blissful, peaceful sheep; heavenly creatures working behind the scenes, growing and providing us with the best, hard wearing, soft and abundant material to create our rugs.
So obviously my vision for the guild anniversary had to represent a sheep. It’s leaping through the number 40, perhaps being counted by a sleep deprived soul tossing and turning under the covers. I made the legs and feet primitive hooks, the most important tool of the craft and deserving of a mention. The background has fireworks, stars and steamers shooting out in all directions for this grand celebration of our guilds birthday.
I envisioned hit and miss for the four corners, an old style tradition to use up leftover worms. A simple design of the past that has been carried to modern day rugs, a style never aging, never losing its appeal. I wasn't able to create that in Photoshop, my skill level there is a mere one out of ten.
I hope you like this pattern and if you do, it can be yours. I am offering it as a paper design that is free with any purchase, either from shopping at the studio or mail order. Please remember to ask for it when placing an order as it won’t be automatically put in your parcel. This pattern is copyrighted and meant for a one time personal use only so please respect this. For those not interested in transferring it to backing on their own, we will be selling it made up on Linen as well.
If you hook this piece and send us a photo we will vote on the one we like best and there will be a reward of a $150.00 Gift Certificate to the studio to add whatever you desire to your stash. The cut-off for this contest will be June 30th, 2019 so that’s plenty of time to hook it. I’m not worried about numbers, if only one rug hooker sends a photo; well that’s a guaranteed prize! The size is 18” x 19. The paper pattern will be available until the end of April at which time the 40 will be removed from the design and we will sell the pattern on Linen. Who doesn't love to hook sheep! I look forward to seeing this design spring to life in full colour from the creative minds of our customers. Cheers!
I used Photoshop to tint the pattern in a soft and simple plan to show how delightful it might be once your wool colours it in. Cheers fellow rug hookers!
Rug hooking has provided many with added purpose, something outside the day to day comings and goings, something creative and special. Ask any rug hooker that travels across North America and even further afield to take workshops, attend schools and congregate for hooking events, how this craft has enhanced their lives and you’ll be inundated with smiles and abundant tales.
Most of us will agree rug hooking has enriched our lives and for someone like me it’s been life altering. I’m immersed up to my chin with both feet planted in this business providing quality supplies, unique designs and wool to drool over. It has certainly added a dimension to my life that I would have never thought possible back in the day of 9 to 5, pushing a pencil in the office grind. Being able to explore my creative side in a profession that can’t really be classified as work, I thank my lucky stars every day that my circumstance has allowed this blessing to happen and continue. When I turn the key and walk through the door of my studio, I’m met with the most beautiful array of colour and this visual feast shapes a broad smile across my lips and a flutter in my heart. Truly, entering the door is like receiving a hug from a rainbow. I can hardly believe my good fortune and I pinch myself occasionally to make sure it’s real.
I’ve been thinking about a commemorative pattern to celebrate the four decades of the guild. I think about the rug hookers I’ve met, some have passed while others continue carrying the torch; some have been here from the start while newbies continue to join in. I’ve been hooking for 20 years, have been a guild member since day one, yet it seems only yesterday that I pulled my first loop.
Although when one thinks of rug hooking people come to mind, all the many friends we have made, teachers that had given their time and shared their knowledge, but we mustn’t forget the real hero behind our passion, the magnificent sheep. Whether you hook with wool yarn or wool fabric cut into strips, it is clearly the most desired medium for this art form. The blissful, peaceful sheep; heavenly creatures working behind the scenes, growing and providing us with the best, hard wearing, soft and abundant material to create our rugs.
So obviously my vision for the guild anniversary had to represent a sheep. It’s leaping through the number 40, perhaps being counted by a sleep deprived soul tossing and turning under the covers. I made the legs and feet primitive hooks, the most important tool of the craft and deserving of a mention. The background has fireworks, stars and steamers shooting out in all directions for this grand celebration of our guilds birthday.
I envisioned hit and miss for the four corners, an old style tradition to use up leftover worms. A simple design of the past that has been carried to modern day rugs, a style never aging, never losing its appeal. I wasn't able to create that in Photoshop, my skill level there is a mere one out of ten.
I hope you like this pattern and if you do, it can be yours. I am offering it as a paper design that is free with any purchase, either from shopping at the studio or mail order. Please remember to ask for it when placing an order as it won’t be automatically put in your parcel. This pattern is copyrighted and meant for a one time personal use only so please respect this. For those not interested in transferring it to backing on their own, we will be selling it made up on Linen as well.
If you hook this piece and send us a photo we will vote on the one we like best and there will be a reward of a $150.00 Gift Certificate to the studio to add whatever you desire to your stash. The cut-off for this contest will be June 30th, 2019 so that’s plenty of time to hook it. I’m not worried about numbers, if only one rug hooker sends a photo; well that’s a guaranteed prize! The size is 18” x 19. The paper pattern will be available until the end of April at which time the 40 will be removed from the design and we will sell the pattern on Linen. Who doesn't love to hook sheep! I look forward to seeing this design spring to life in full colour from the creative minds of our customers. Cheers!
I used Photoshop to tint the pattern in a soft and simple plan to show how delightful it might be once your wool colours it in. Cheers fellow rug hookers!
I’m torn. Back in 2014 I designed this flying horse to commemorate the Year of the Horse in the Chinese calendar. The Horse is the seventh in the 12-year cycle of the Chinese zodiac sign. The Years of the Horse include 1918, 1930, 1942, 1954, 1966, 1978, 1990, 2002, 2014, 2026... The 12 Chinese horoscope animals are: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, Pig.
About 25 years ago, Hubby and I were visiting his parents in BC and spent a day wondering around China Town on the waterfront of Vancouver and came across this little gem in one of the many shops. He was always interested in the flying horse; feeling it was unique from all the other horse statues, art and stories in history so we purchased it. When I set about to design the pattern my first thought was the Flying Horse to represent this year in the Chinese calendar and even used our statue for the reference.
The Chinese characters in each corner stand for Happy New Year and felt they framed the horse perfectly. I thought running the animal through the 0 of 2014 would be clever and create a balanced picture. I like the design, but I’m not sure if I should remove the 2014 and characters and finish only the horse and swallow with the background and a border, perhaps making a pillow for our home study.
Although I love the look of this pattern I’m not sure if I want the already outdated year to be such a focal point and I’m not Chinese, so this symbolism means little to me. We are going to produce patterns with the horse only as I it will make a lovely rug. A photo of just the horse would probably be less off-putting to anyone purchasing the design, than having to ask what all the other stuff is for?
I can easily remove all the red and fill in the body and background but my dilemma is that I love the red influence, how it plays off the antique bronze green finish of the animal and that creamy beige background. I can’t only remove the year and leave the Chinese characters either because the horse is balanced on the date and if that is removed the horse is too far to the left and although I’m not a great fan of symmetry, this would be too lopsided even for me.
I want to finish the hooking but I’m stymied by indecision on which way to go forward because there are as many pros as cons for me. A week later after digging it out of storage, it’s become a stumbling block because I’ve promised myself to complete this project before I move ahead with another and I don’t want my frame being empty when there is so much I want to do. Just make a decision Christine and stick to it instead of pitching it back and forth like a ball. I usually know exactly what I want but for this case I could use a bit of help. What would you do? If I choose to erase the motifs in question I will set some red in the border, a line or two before the outside plaid I’ve selected to frame it.
A brief History of the Flying Horse Of Gansu
Eastern Han dynasty, 25 - 220 AD
Gansu Provincial Museum
This outstanding bronze horse has become an iconic emblem of China. Racing through the skies, it treads on a swallow (base of statue) that looks up in amazement. Unlike Pegasus, the Western flying horse, the wingless Han steed is meant to be understood metaphorically rather than literally; it represents an ideal horse that can gallop so fast that it seems to outrun the wind. The sculpture is perfectly balanced on only one hoof, to complete the illusion of flight.
The Five Elements of Horse is Fire (Huo), which symbolizes enthusiasm and energy. The animal gives people an impression of independence and integrity. Its spirit is recognized to be the Chinese people's ethos - making unremitting efforts to improve themselves with passion and diligence.
About 25 years ago, Hubby and I were visiting his parents in BC and spent a day wondering around China Town on the waterfront of Vancouver and came across this little gem in one of the many shops. He was always interested in the flying horse; feeling it was unique from all the other horse statues, art and stories in history so we purchased it. When I set about to design the pattern my first thought was the Flying Horse to represent this year in the Chinese calendar and even used our statue for the reference.
The Chinese characters in each corner stand for Happy New Year and felt they framed the horse perfectly. I thought running the animal through the 0 of 2014 would be clever and create a balanced picture. I like the design, but I’m not sure if I should remove the 2014 and characters and finish only the horse and swallow with the background and a border, perhaps making a pillow for our home study.
Although I love the look of this pattern I’m not sure if I want the already outdated year to be such a focal point and I’m not Chinese, so this symbolism means little to me. We are going to produce patterns with the horse only as I it will make a lovely rug. A photo of just the horse would probably be less off-putting to anyone purchasing the design, than having to ask what all the other stuff is for?
I can easily remove all the red and fill in the body and background but my dilemma is that I love the red influence, how it plays off the antique bronze green finish of the animal and that creamy beige background. I can’t only remove the year and leave the Chinese characters either because the horse is balanced on the date and if that is removed the horse is too far to the left and although I’m not a great fan of symmetry, this would be too lopsided even for me.
I want to finish the hooking but I’m stymied by indecision on which way to go forward because there are as many pros as cons for me. A week later after digging it out of storage, it’s become a stumbling block because I’ve promised myself to complete this project before I move ahead with another and I don’t want my frame being empty when there is so much I want to do. Just make a decision Christine and stick to it instead of pitching it back and forth like a ball. I usually know exactly what I want but for this case I could use a bit of help. What would you do? If I choose to erase the motifs in question I will set some red in the border, a line or two before the outside plaid I’ve selected to frame it.
A brief History of the Flying Horse Of Gansu
Eastern Han dynasty, 25 - 220 AD
Gansu Provincial Museum
This outstanding bronze horse has become an iconic emblem of China. Racing through the skies, it treads on a swallow (base of statue) that looks up in amazement. Unlike Pegasus, the Western flying horse, the wingless Han steed is meant to be understood metaphorically rather than literally; it represents an ideal horse that can gallop so fast that it seems to outrun the wind. The sculpture is perfectly balanced on only one hoof, to complete the illusion of flight.
The Five Elements of Horse is Fire (Huo), which symbolizes enthusiasm and energy. The animal gives people an impression of independence and integrity. Its spirit is recognized to be the Chinese people's ethos - making unremitting efforts to improve themselves with passion and diligence.
Maritime Made from Eastlink TV taped a video about our studio!
I awoke yesterday and realized it was March 20th, the day before the first full day of spring. Another year and the season has snuck up on me. Now spring is a great source of happiness and joy, but and there always seems to be a but, it signifies another year passing without finishing my Bunnies With Tulips rug. It’s been so long I can’t recall which year I started it and I could look back at previous blogs to find out, I have been hauling it out with optimism for some time, but I’m just going to move forward and do it!
Yesterday there were two hook-ins at the studio; the weekly afternoon one and the 3rd Wednesday of the month for the evening. I figured this was concentrated hooking time to finish the few loops needed to complete the rug, steam it and then go home for dinner. When I got back for the evening gathering, I zig-zagged stitched around the edge, cut it out and began adding the cording. I managed to whip one side before we said our goodbyes around 10:00 P.M. and then I went home determined to finish the job no matter how late the clock ground away.
It was going to be done for the first day of spring. I was up till 3:00 A.M. working at the speed of sound until my right arm felt a bit unhinged from tugging the yarn through the hole, but I don’t begrudge the yawning today at all. There’s the rug binding to be added but that can be done down the road but I’m notorious for not doing that job. I hate working with needles and prick myself silly and last evening as I sewed in the cording, I rammed the needle under the skin around my right thumb nail for a big ouchy. I don’t know why I’m so clumsy with sharp, pointy things but I spazz and injure myself every time.
So the rug is done and I am over the moon. I was inspired by a saying I saw on FB and copied to my page. The only thing standing between me and finishing this project are the three hundred others ones I want to start. So true! But is this really a viable excuse for procrastinating this long? So yesterday morning I dug out the wool to go with the rug and in the bag I discovered three other projects in various degrees of completion and I made a promise to them that I would do them before starting anything new. It’s time to put the horse before the cart. Shed all the weight of unfinished projects past to clear the way for future creativity. Inanimate objects seem to ferment guilt which clogs up my ability to embrace anything new without baggage.
There was a lovely flying horse I designed for the Year of the Horse in 2014 that’s niggling me next. I love the verdigris horse and the red Chinese letters for New Years. With only one or two evenings worth of work to be had I’ll mark another forgotten soul off my list. I’ll be so light and carefree after this purge of guilt from unfinished projects I might just feel unencumbered glee when starting the next riser.
Yesterday there were two hook-ins at the studio; the weekly afternoon one and the 3rd Wednesday of the month for the evening. I figured this was concentrated hooking time to finish the few loops needed to complete the rug, steam it and then go home for dinner. When I got back for the evening gathering, I zig-zagged stitched around the edge, cut it out and began adding the cording. I managed to whip one side before we said our goodbyes around 10:00 P.M. and then I went home determined to finish the job no matter how late the clock ground away.
It was going to be done for the first day of spring. I was up till 3:00 A.M. working at the speed of sound until my right arm felt a bit unhinged from tugging the yarn through the hole, but I don’t begrudge the yawning today at all. There’s the rug binding to be added but that can be done down the road but I’m notorious for not doing that job. I hate working with needles and prick myself silly and last evening as I sewed in the cording, I rammed the needle under the skin around my right thumb nail for a big ouchy. I don’t know why I’m so clumsy with sharp, pointy things but I spazz and injure myself every time.
So the rug is done and I am over the moon. I was inspired by a saying I saw on FB and copied to my page. The only thing standing between me and finishing this project are the three hundred others ones I want to start. So true! But is this really a viable excuse for procrastinating this long? So yesterday morning I dug out the wool to go with the rug and in the bag I discovered three other projects in various degrees of completion and I made a promise to them that I would do them before starting anything new. It’s time to put the horse before the cart. Shed all the weight of unfinished projects past to clear the way for future creativity. Inanimate objects seem to ferment guilt which clogs up my ability to embrace anything new without baggage.
There was a lovely flying horse I designed for the Year of the Horse in 2014 that’s niggling me next. I love the verdigris horse and the red Chinese letters for New Years. With only one or two evenings worth of work to be had I’ll mark another forgotten soul off my list. I’ll be so light and carefree after this purge of guilt from unfinished projects I might just feel unencumbered glee when starting the next riser.
 |  |
Although our yard is still packed with several feet of snow, the temperatures are all above zero this week; a sign that spring is around the corner. The driveway, already melted of all the white stuff, is actually a mud pit as the ground thawed; I got out my rubber boots, a positive sign of spring and better weather coming. Saturday the clocks went ahead an hour so the days are longer, good times are on their way.
Spring, my favourite season, always takes me back to my childhood. All my best memories evolved from springtime, a simpler age when my family was young and blissful. It was a season of newness and discovery and freedom from the heavy clothing and harsh winters that we suffered through. One of my favourite memories is of the classic pussy willow. I remember tickling the soft buds under my nose, teasing our cat with them, and we always had a vase full on the kitchen counter.
I think my generation was so fortunate to be nature walkers, taking strolls on Sunday with mom and dad to explore the wooded area behind our house. The smell of outdoors was intoxicating. Pine scented, it would tattoo itself on my nose and my clothes so I would carry it with me throughout the day.
There were so many treasures to be found and mysteries to unfold to intrigue an inquisitive kid like me. Spider webs spanning the paths glistened with morning dew. Beads of water shimmering like diamonds on the web, intoxicatingly beautiful; my five year old brain was mesmerized. I was a constant question back then, one leading directly into another like a string of pearls. I needed to know the why and the how of all things, what bird was singing, what is the name of that mushroom, does a fairy live under it? My questions probably disturbed my parent’s ears as well as the flora and fauna of the quiet woods. The wind in the swaying trees sounded like whispers overhead while the soft pine needle carpet felt like walking on clouds.
How I remember the May flowers with their delicate pink petals and their exquisite scent. If I close my eyes I can easily relive this delicate sweet perfume. Lady slippers, a dainty pink, so abundant and elegant, like ballerina shoes peppering the forest floor, so very many of them back then, so few of them now. So much beauty in nature, one only has to look to see her bounty
There are many versions of how the Pussy Willows got their name. One such story is this old Polish legend.
The story began many springtime’s ago with a mother cat crying at the bank of a river in which her kittens were drowning. The willows at the river's edge longed to help her, so they swept their long graceful branches into the waters to rescue the tiny kittens who had fallen into the river while chasing butterflies. The kittens gripped on tightly to their branches and were safely brought to shore. Each springtime since, goes the legend, the willow branches sprout tiny fur-like buds at their tips where the tiny kittens once clung.
There are other versions of the tale, although not as sweet and without a happy ending, so I chose this explanation as the one that best represents our darling pattern. The design was inspired by my mother-in-law who showed me an old drawing she’d found on a vintage post card. I embellished it more by adding the fun border to frame these sweet little kittens.
A kitten is the poster child for all things soft, fluffy and adorable and this pattern offers the option to make it all three as well. I have seen several versions of it hooked, each one telling the story perfectly. Sometimes the pussy willows are sculpted for extra texture and interest. I smile every time I see it and recently caught a glimpse of another version of this rug on Facebook, hooked and hanging at the show at Ross Farm.
Spring, my favourite season, always takes me back to my childhood. All my best memories evolved from springtime, a simpler age when my family was young and blissful. It was a season of newness and discovery and freedom from the heavy clothing and harsh winters that we suffered through. One of my favourite memories is of the classic pussy willow. I remember tickling the soft buds under my nose, teasing our cat with them, and we always had a vase full on the kitchen counter.
I think my generation was so fortunate to be nature walkers, taking strolls on Sunday with mom and dad to explore the wooded area behind our house. The smell of outdoors was intoxicating. Pine scented, it would tattoo itself on my nose and my clothes so I would carry it with me throughout the day.
There were so many treasures to be found and mysteries to unfold to intrigue an inquisitive kid like me. Spider webs spanning the paths glistened with morning dew. Beads of water shimmering like diamonds on the web, intoxicatingly beautiful; my five year old brain was mesmerized. I was a constant question back then, one leading directly into another like a string of pearls. I needed to know the why and the how of all things, what bird was singing, what is the name of that mushroom, does a fairy live under it? My questions probably disturbed my parent’s ears as well as the flora and fauna of the quiet woods. The wind in the swaying trees sounded like whispers overhead while the soft pine needle carpet felt like walking on clouds.
How I remember the May flowers with their delicate pink petals and their exquisite scent. If I close my eyes I can easily relive this delicate sweet perfume. Lady slippers, a dainty pink, so abundant and elegant, like ballerina shoes peppering the forest floor, so very many of them back then, so few of them now. So much beauty in nature, one only has to look to see her bounty
There are many versions of how the Pussy Willows got their name. One such story is this old Polish legend.
The story began many springtime’s ago with a mother cat crying at the bank of a river in which her kittens were drowning. The willows at the river's edge longed to help her, so they swept their long graceful branches into the waters to rescue the tiny kittens who had fallen into the river while chasing butterflies. The kittens gripped on tightly to their branches and were safely brought to shore. Each springtime since, goes the legend, the willow branches sprout tiny fur-like buds at their tips where the tiny kittens once clung.
There are other versions of the tale, although not as sweet and without a happy ending, so I chose this explanation as the one that best represents our darling pattern. The design was inspired by my mother-in-law who showed me an old drawing she’d found on a vintage post card. I embellished it more by adding the fun border to frame these sweet little kittens.
A kitten is the poster child for all things soft, fluffy and adorable and this pattern offers the option to make it all three as well. I have seen several versions of it hooked, each one telling the story perfectly. Sometimes the pussy willows are sculpted for extra texture and interest. I smile every time I see it and recently caught a glimpse of another version of this rug on Facebook, hooked and hanging at the show at Ross Farm.
 |  |
I’ve completed my ninth stair riser with six more to go. There will be 15 risers on this staircase to nautical heaven. This one is called Customize It so the rug hooker can add their family name, cottage name or their boat name to personalize the rug. I chose to add our boat name Catalyst II, Nonsuch 33.
The name you choose will be flanked by two stylized fish/sea monsters. I had a great deal of fun colour planning and hooking them with six values of red and some green highlights. I hooked it in a #3 strip for the detail and for small objects such as these, even with the smaller cuts the work went quickly. I love how they both look and feel like velvet.
When I started this business I designed a lot of Compass Rose patterns. I love anything nautical and some of the old maps I used as references had wonderfully stylized sea serpents and creatures around the periphery. Some of the oldest compass rose designs found were on these maps and I took our Red Sky At Night design from one that was dated in the early 1400’s. I love the compass rose, the epitome of nautical spirit.
I’ve very pleased with my latest riser and it takes its place proudly on the staircase. There are enough of them now to sew the backs and attach them with Velcro in a permanent position, if only I had a PA to follow me around and do my bidding. I love to hook but sewing, that nasty, blood thirsty needle, turns me off so I procrastinate until I can no longer justify putting it off and then let the swearing begin.
The next riser is my Sea Serpent and Shane has created a new green for me suitably named Sea Serpent Green. I visualize this green with yellow undertones paired with red and gold accents, but who knows what will transpire once I begin. I like to think I have a plan but once the loops are pulled my thinking can do a 180 shift so we will see what direction I take as far as accent colours go. I must say I am thrilled to begin, the possibilities for the colour placement are exciting.
The two vertical dashes on the right of our boat name is not a quotation mark so I made it look more like a roman numeral with a skinny antique red line on the top and the bottom. Our boat name is Catalyst ll. My hubby thought it might confuse someone and it did so I had to rectify it. Thanks for pointing this out peeps!
The name you choose will be flanked by two stylized fish/sea monsters. I had a great deal of fun colour planning and hooking them with six values of red and some green highlights. I hooked it in a #3 strip for the detail and for small objects such as these, even with the smaller cuts the work went quickly. I love how they both look and feel like velvet.
When I started this business I designed a lot of Compass Rose patterns. I love anything nautical and some of the old maps I used as references had wonderfully stylized sea serpents and creatures around the periphery. Some of the oldest compass rose designs found were on these maps and I took our Red Sky At Night design from one that was dated in the early 1400’s. I love the compass rose, the epitome of nautical spirit.
I’ve very pleased with my latest riser and it takes its place proudly on the staircase. There are enough of them now to sew the backs and attach them with Velcro in a permanent position, if only I had a PA to follow me around and do my bidding. I love to hook but sewing, that nasty, blood thirsty needle, turns me off so I procrastinate until I can no longer justify putting it off and then let the swearing begin.
The next riser is my Sea Serpent and Shane has created a new green for me suitably named Sea Serpent Green. I visualize this green with yellow undertones paired with red and gold accents, but who knows what will transpire once I begin. I like to think I have a plan but once the loops are pulled my thinking can do a 180 shift so we will see what direction I take as far as accent colours go. I must say I am thrilled to begin, the possibilities for the colour placement are exciting.
The two vertical dashes on the right of our boat name is not a quotation mark so I made it look more like a roman numeral with a skinny antique red line on the top and the bottom. Our boat name is Catalyst ll. My hubby thought it might confuse someone and it did so I had to rectify it. Thanks for pointing this out peeps!
By Guest Blogger Sharon Loeppky
Hi Christine. I'm back from my Indian adventure. I'm so glad that I decided to do the textile art while there - the Gujarati are definitely a people with an understanding of "handwork". Although most of the local people in the Kutch didn't speak much English they all wanted to connect with a stranger who also worked with fabric. So many of the woman wanted to either show me that they, too, knew how to hook, or they wanted to try it.
I'm sending you a few pics of some of the little pieces that I made (designs based on Google Earth screen shots of the region). I'm also including a few shots of your frame in India!
Hi Christine. I'm back from my Indian adventure. I'm so glad that I decided to do the textile art while there - the Gujarati are definitely a people with an understanding of "handwork". Although most of the local people in the Kutch didn't speak much English they all wanted to connect with a stranger who also worked with fabric. So many of the woman wanted to either show me that they, too, knew how to hook, or they wanted to try it.
I'm sending you a few pics of some of the little pieces that I made (designs based on Google Earth screen shots of the region). I'm also including a few shots of your frame in India!
 |  |
 |  |
We had a chimney fire last Thursday evening complete with a 911 call, two trucks with sirens blazing like the fire in our flue, screaming to a halt in front of our house. Luckily we didn’t experience any damage but it was frightening to see foot high flames shooting out of the top of the chimney against the backdrop of a night sky while acrid smoke permeated the house. The firemen checked the walls with a Thermal Imagine, looking for hot spots from the first floor to the attic, to make sure there wasn’t any fire smoldering behind the walls, waiting to explode and devour our home. They emptied the woodstove of the burning logs and then hung around until they were confident the drama was over and left us shaking and scratching our heads.
Two important details of note. The firemen told us there has been an unusual amount of calls for chimney fires this year. One fireman told us that he had his cleaned in December and a month later had a chimney fire. We had our Sweep guy do our annual cleanout in November, but when he came on Friday to clear out the charred remains, he took out five buckets full of blackened soot and buildup. He told us that twelve of his customers had fires this winter. He could only offer assumptions as to why, perhaps the wood isn’t seasoned enough and/or the cold temperatures are slowing the smoke and sparks from carrying up the chimney. He said because we live along the water there is more moisture in the air, probably a contributor to creosote accumulation. For whatever the reason or a combination of all, the conditions were ripe for a fire. Of course, outside chimneys are more susceptible to build-up due to not being insulated from the harsh temperatures cooling them, so they don’t burn as clean. Because of what we’ve been told and experienced, I’m suggesting those of you with chimneys, get a mirror and a flashlight to check out your flue, better to be safe than sorry.
As a solution, we are going to buy the equipment to clean our chimney once a month. Gows Home Hardware sells the brushes and the rods to do the job. A lot rests on being diligent, and this will be a small price to pay for peace of mind. We will also clean the inside stove pipes every two weeks instead of every month; it’s marked on the calendar now so we won’t forget or become complacent. I don’t want to see another fireman in my house unless he’s been invited for a social gathering but I’d like to give a big thank-you to the guys that came to our rescue, Mahone Bay’s finest!
The stress drove my blood sugar as high as Everest and later I didn't sleep well, my mind churning through the what ifs, as my mood stayed blacker than the thin sheet of ash that covered the snowy yard after the chimney erupted like a brick volcano.
Although I don't think we were in any immediate threat of losing everything, I still prepared for the worst, grabbing the pups and their coats, car keys, my rings, both laptop computers and the Baby Magic Doll that was staring at me from a shelf in the living room, her big beautiful eyes seemed to say, “don’t leave me behind!” I stood by the door and looked around and I thought what else should I grab, my mother-in-law's silver tea set? More jewelry? Some of the Blue & White dish collection from the obsessive amounts that hang on the walls and fill the cupboards? I stood dumb founded by indecision, not able to think of a single item I couldn’t live without. I figured I wouldn’t miss anything too terribly but I would mourn the inconvenience of the aftermath of a fire, the insurance claim, purchasing new clothes, finding a place to live in the interim and then a possible rebuild. I’ll bet dollars to donuts our next home wouldn’t look anything like the footprint of our current one.
We live in a moderate sized house filled to the brim with things. Surely we’ve accumulated something worth the trouble to tuck under our arm and flee! Nothing worth dying over obviously, but if time allowed surely I could have come up with something that might have made the loss of everything less of a hardship. I was more worried that I had a hole in the heel of my one sock, thinking great, that’s what I’ll have to live with until we can find some things to wear. I had on clean underwear, my mom would be proud that her constant nagging is still working. Luckily I was wearing my favourite bra, a good bra is worth its weight in gold, and as I looked down at the shirt that I was wearing I figured it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship to have to sleep in it, perhaps even in the car for the first homeless night.
So after the firemen left and the quiet engulfed me, I rewound and played the entire evening in my head, over and over to make sense of it all. I came away from the experience with an interesting view of my life, contemplating what is worthy and finding the list relatively small compared to the size of our possessions. Our homes, our nests and the stuff in them is our mark on this planet...our properties makes us unique and individual....setting us apart from the Jones. But, if none of it really matters why are we buying or building mammoth homes and purchasing stuff to fill them? Why is it so important to have things if we can live without it? Someone once told me “Your house might be nice, but if you ever get cancer it won’t mean a damn thing.” Well maybe it doesn’t mean that much now, if I can turn my back on it within a few heartbeats while making split second decisions on what survives and what doesn’t?
Obviously we give stuff too much credence, way too much effort, and throw too much money at it. Seriously, why couldn’t I have come to this realization in my youth when I was building our nest and dragging home stuff to fill the halls and rooms as if that’s what truly mattered? Starting over today, we’d be minimalists, parked in a bungalow with the bare necessities to exist comfortably. No dusting a bunch of items that serve little purpose but to look at, not having closets and cupboards filled with items that are forgotten; only being surrounding with things that matter. Once again, less seems to be more.
A house fire can start and develop into life threatening chaos in a matter of minutes but what would you save if you had two minutes to grab possessions? In this scenario, the family and pets are safe on the lawn and you have 120 seconds to rescue the things you can’t live without? What would they be? Something to think about.....
Two important details of note. The firemen told us there has been an unusual amount of calls for chimney fires this year. One fireman told us that he had his cleaned in December and a month later had a chimney fire. We had our Sweep guy do our annual cleanout in November, but when he came on Friday to clear out the charred remains, he took out five buckets full of blackened soot and buildup. He told us that twelve of his customers had fires this winter. He could only offer assumptions as to why, perhaps the wood isn’t seasoned enough and/or the cold temperatures are slowing the smoke and sparks from carrying up the chimney. He said because we live along the water there is more moisture in the air, probably a contributor to creosote accumulation. For whatever the reason or a combination of all, the conditions were ripe for a fire. Of course, outside chimneys are more susceptible to build-up due to not being insulated from the harsh temperatures cooling them, so they don’t burn as clean. Because of what we’ve been told and experienced, I’m suggesting those of you with chimneys, get a mirror and a flashlight to check out your flue, better to be safe than sorry.
As a solution, we are going to buy the equipment to clean our chimney once a month. Gows Home Hardware sells the brushes and the rods to do the job. A lot rests on being diligent, and this will be a small price to pay for peace of mind. We will also clean the inside stove pipes every two weeks instead of every month; it’s marked on the calendar now so we won’t forget or become complacent. I don’t want to see another fireman in my house unless he’s been invited for a social gathering but I’d like to give a big thank-you to the guys that came to our rescue, Mahone Bay’s finest!
The stress drove my blood sugar as high as Everest and later I didn't sleep well, my mind churning through the what ifs, as my mood stayed blacker than the thin sheet of ash that covered the snowy yard after the chimney erupted like a brick volcano.
Although I don't think we were in any immediate threat of losing everything, I still prepared for the worst, grabbing the pups and their coats, car keys, my rings, both laptop computers and the Baby Magic Doll that was staring at me from a shelf in the living room, her big beautiful eyes seemed to say, “don’t leave me behind!” I stood by the door and looked around and I thought what else should I grab, my mother-in-law's silver tea set? More jewelry? Some of the Blue & White dish collection from the obsessive amounts that hang on the walls and fill the cupboards? I stood dumb founded by indecision, not able to think of a single item I couldn’t live without. I figured I wouldn’t miss anything too terribly but I would mourn the inconvenience of the aftermath of a fire, the insurance claim, purchasing new clothes, finding a place to live in the interim and then a possible rebuild. I’ll bet dollars to donuts our next home wouldn’t look anything like the footprint of our current one.
We live in a moderate sized house filled to the brim with things. Surely we’ve accumulated something worth the trouble to tuck under our arm and flee! Nothing worth dying over obviously, but if time allowed surely I could have come up with something that might have made the loss of everything less of a hardship. I was more worried that I had a hole in the heel of my one sock, thinking great, that’s what I’ll have to live with until we can find some things to wear. I had on clean underwear, my mom would be proud that her constant nagging is still working. Luckily I was wearing my favourite bra, a good bra is worth its weight in gold, and as I looked down at the shirt that I was wearing I figured it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship to have to sleep in it, perhaps even in the car for the first homeless night.
So after the firemen left and the quiet engulfed me, I rewound and played the entire evening in my head, over and over to make sense of it all. I came away from the experience with an interesting view of my life, contemplating what is worthy and finding the list relatively small compared to the size of our possessions. Our homes, our nests and the stuff in them is our mark on this planet...our properties makes us unique and individual....setting us apart from the Jones. But, if none of it really matters why are we buying or building mammoth homes and purchasing stuff to fill them? Why is it so important to have things if we can live without it? Someone once told me “Your house might be nice, but if you ever get cancer it won’t mean a damn thing.” Well maybe it doesn’t mean that much now, if I can turn my back on it within a few heartbeats while making split second decisions on what survives and what doesn’t?
Obviously we give stuff too much credence, way too much effort, and throw too much money at it. Seriously, why couldn’t I have come to this realization in my youth when I was building our nest and dragging home stuff to fill the halls and rooms as if that’s what truly mattered? Starting over today, we’d be minimalists, parked in a bungalow with the bare necessities to exist comfortably. No dusting a bunch of items that serve little purpose but to look at, not having closets and cupboards filled with items that are forgotten; only being surrounding with things that matter. Once again, less seems to be more.
A house fire can start and develop into life threatening chaos in a matter of minutes but what would you save if you had two minutes to grab possessions? In this scenario, the family and pets are safe on the lawn and you have 120 seconds to rescue the things you can’t live without? What would they be? Something to think about.....
We don’t have to be Winnie the Pooh to recognize a Blustery day. One look out the window today and I was happy to stay inside until a doctor’s appointment forced me out into winter. It’s been colder lately with a wind-chill that stands behind its name all the way to my bones. Without proper attire, hat, scarf, mittens, long johns and a coat that would deflect bullets the dash between the house and the garage is like thousands of razor sharp knives piercing the skin. Living on the water has its perks; the beauty of nature and summer recreation showing from every window pane, but in the winter the north wind whips our property like a punishment.
Hubby and I had been sick for over two weeks. We’re definitely on the side of wellness, but it’s been a rough ride. The first week I had a cold, aches in the joints, headache and lethargy but nothing in the sinuses. After about a week of feeling useless, but on the mend, I left the house to shake a severe case of cabin fever and forage for provisions because this old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard was bare.
We went to the grocery store and filled the cart and much to my chagrin, the gal behind the cashier counter let loose a sneeze bomb right in my face. No covering her mouth with a hand or letting it land into the crook of her arm, or turning her head to the empty air behind her. No, she stood there and blew viral shrapnel in my face; I could feel the droplets of moisture hitting my skin, inhaling it up my wind tunnel of a nose. I took a bullet for sure, a direct hit to my immune system and it was a foreign agent, one not recognized and previously dealt with so I lacked a defense. Sure enough, two days later my nose became a leaking facet, fever set in and the headache was back with a vengeance. I groaned, sinking back into the sofa I’d only just extricated from my back.
I blame the sickness on bragging how I rarely get ill. We’d been out with friends for a delightful breakfast at the Gold Bean Café in Gold River and we were discussing flu shots, which I never get, and I said how I rarely get sick and looked for a piece of wood to knock on to seal the statement. All I could find was an Arborite table top, painted gyprock walls and upholstered seats. My hand hovered looking for some pine to tap, anything really, but there wasn’t even a tooth pick and it made me feel a little nervous. I’m not a superstitious person by any mean, but it’s a habit to knock on wood, just one of those things we do without thinking to cover the stupid things we say! I worried my boast would foil me, and sure enough, hubby got it first and because we share a house, passed it along to me as this year’s Valentine’s gift.
Today, I’m about 97% back to normal and I’m optimistic that I’ll make a full recovery in the next day or so, but I’ve learned my lesson and will watch my words and stop bragging, well actually after this two week load of crap I can’t say that I don't pick things up, a few years will have to pass without further incident before I'll dare to declare it again. . But, there’s always the but, if there should come a time that I stupidly suggest I’m a germ deflector, I’ll make darn sure there’s wood handy to back it up.
I’m not a great patient. I like my down time but only when it’s my choice, not forced against my will. Boredom is not my friend and when you feel less than perky, it’s really difficult to pursue a hobby, read or even watch TV. Hooking was out of the question, the constant dripping made me feel like I was being tapped for maple syrup but had no place to hang a tin. So I lay around moaning and feeling the full extent of my misery. The only exertion was pulling Kleenex from the box and of course the sneezing fits that could actually propel my body like being shot from a cannon. I had fits so violent Depends could have been helpful. I’m sure those with Stock in the Kleenex company saw a marked improvement in their portfolio. Box after box was emptied by the two of us. FYI - Hubby has a great way to dispose of the used tissues. Once a box is empty you put the used ones in it until it’s stuffed to bulging and then put it in the wood stove. These boxes ignite with a small explosion and burn like a gasoline soaked rag. Bye bye bacteria!
As the days dragged on and I started feeling a bit better I periodically stripped the top of our mahogany dining room table. I'm only redoing the top and it’s very laborious so I only did about a half hour at a time as not to run out of steam over the past week. I started out using a card scraper but found that sand paper did a much better job. The varnish I applied decades back was flaking off so the table top looked like it had psoriasis. I finished stripping it this evening and will apply a coat of stain and then perhaps oil it for easy upkeep but if I feel ambitious, I might put on high gloss Epiphane varnish for the French polish, Victorian look. We’ll see. I really love working with good quality wood, the grain and natural patina reminds me of teak and my boat....with it being so cold it seems a long ways away but I can dream....
Hubby and I had been sick for over two weeks. We’re definitely on the side of wellness, but it’s been a rough ride. The first week I had a cold, aches in the joints, headache and lethargy but nothing in the sinuses. After about a week of feeling useless, but on the mend, I left the house to shake a severe case of cabin fever and forage for provisions because this old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard was bare.
We went to the grocery store and filled the cart and much to my chagrin, the gal behind the cashier counter let loose a sneeze bomb right in my face. No covering her mouth with a hand or letting it land into the crook of her arm, or turning her head to the empty air behind her. No, she stood there and blew viral shrapnel in my face; I could feel the droplets of moisture hitting my skin, inhaling it up my wind tunnel of a nose. I took a bullet for sure, a direct hit to my immune system and it was a foreign agent, one not recognized and previously dealt with so I lacked a defense. Sure enough, two days later my nose became a leaking facet, fever set in and the headache was back with a vengeance. I groaned, sinking back into the sofa I’d only just extricated from my back.
I blame the sickness on bragging how I rarely get ill. We’d been out with friends for a delightful breakfast at the Gold Bean Café in Gold River and we were discussing flu shots, which I never get, and I said how I rarely get sick and looked for a piece of wood to knock on to seal the statement. All I could find was an Arborite table top, painted gyprock walls and upholstered seats. My hand hovered looking for some pine to tap, anything really, but there wasn’t even a tooth pick and it made me feel a little nervous. I’m not a superstitious person by any mean, but it’s a habit to knock on wood, just one of those things we do without thinking to cover the stupid things we say! I worried my boast would foil me, and sure enough, hubby got it first and because we share a house, passed it along to me as this year’s Valentine’s gift.
Today, I’m about 97% back to normal and I’m optimistic that I’ll make a full recovery in the next day or so, but I’ve learned my lesson and will watch my words and stop bragging, well actually after this two week load of crap I can’t say that I don't pick things up, a few years will have to pass without further incident before I'll dare to declare it again. . But, there’s always the but, if there should come a time that I stupidly suggest I’m a germ deflector, I’ll make darn sure there’s wood handy to back it up.
I’m not a great patient. I like my down time but only when it’s my choice, not forced against my will. Boredom is not my friend and when you feel less than perky, it’s really difficult to pursue a hobby, read or even watch TV. Hooking was out of the question, the constant dripping made me feel like I was being tapped for maple syrup but had no place to hang a tin. So I lay around moaning and feeling the full extent of my misery. The only exertion was pulling Kleenex from the box and of course the sneezing fits that could actually propel my body like being shot from a cannon. I had fits so violent Depends could have been helpful. I’m sure those with Stock in the Kleenex company saw a marked improvement in their portfolio. Box after box was emptied by the two of us. FYI - Hubby has a great way to dispose of the used tissues. Once a box is empty you put the used ones in it until it’s stuffed to bulging and then put it in the wood stove. These boxes ignite with a small explosion and burn like a gasoline soaked rag. Bye bye bacteria!
As the days dragged on and I started feeling a bit better I periodically stripped the top of our mahogany dining room table. I'm only redoing the top and it’s very laborious so I only did about a half hour at a time as not to run out of steam over the past week. I started out using a card scraper but found that sand paper did a much better job. The varnish I applied decades back was flaking off so the table top looked like it had psoriasis. I finished stripping it this evening and will apply a coat of stain and then perhaps oil it for easy upkeep but if I feel ambitious, I might put on high gloss Epiphane varnish for the French polish, Victorian look. We’ll see. I really love working with good quality wood, the grain and natural patina reminds me of teak and my boat....with it being so cold it seems a long ways away but I can dream....
There are folks out there that call me clever; some have gone so far as to tell me I’m brilliant, but I don’t know if I deserve such accolades. Sure I like to dabble in designs and be creative in my rug hooking, but am I a genius?
I’ve been known to land on a decent idea now and then, either accidentally or prompted by those around me who think more outside the box than I do. I’m pretty crammed into my own personal square, my arms and legs are contorted, folded in tightly around my torso with my head tilted hard to a shoulder so it doesn’t stick out and destroy any attempts to stay within the lines. I’m comfortable in my box and don’t see leaving it in the foreseeable future but I do occasionally entertain moments of inspiration where I amaze myself but other times I come away with a blown mind by someone else’s incredible vision. At those times my inner voice wails, “WHY didn’t I think of that!?”
The book I’m writing for “The ABC’s of Rug Hooking” inspired by the Alphabet I’m hooking was only supposed to be a fun, colourful poster until someone more insightful suggested it would make a lovely book. A lightbulb moment for me, why it never dawned on me is one of those mysteries I’ll take to my grave, or at least to the publisher. Ideas are always so darn easy once someone plants a seed. But for this scenario perhaps I am a genius; keeping people in my entourage who are smarter than me.
This morning is a perfect example. My hubby, my biggest supporter and fan, is a genius. The fact that he married me pretty much proves it, but I digress. I heard words come out of his mouth this morning and couldn’t believe it hadn’t dawned on me before. I mean, really, because it’s so bloody obvious I must be dull and dim-witted to miss it. It concerns the Nautical Riser project I’m working on that we were discussing as we were looking at the new pattern stretched across on my hooking frame. He says, “Why don’t you put rope across the top of the first riser and at the bottom of the last riser so it is a continuous link of rope that stops the eye from drifting off the landing.”
My eyes weren’t quite open at that point, I hadn’t had a coffee yet, but hearing this they flew open and I sat up from my whiny, I didn’t sleep much last night inclined sofa position, and cried “OMG, that’s a fabulous idea!”
So I will be designing an end and beginning pattern for my Nautical Riser collection. In the meantime I’ve started on my next installation, pattern number 9 with 7 more to go. This one is two stylized fish flanking the name and design of our boat. CATALYST II, Nonsuch 33. The center is left open for those who wish to add their family surname or boat name as I did, and I should add we would love to put on for those that buy the pattern. I have toyed with the colour plan but haven’t fully decided where the reds will be, it being the constant that runs throughout my hooked riser rugs.
I finished my Paddles yesterday and was very happy with the way they turned out. That little #3 line of Antique Red under each paddle makes it pop, as if they were hanging on a wall in the boat shed. I used a Blue Ombre (pictured above) for the background and cut it down the various shades from a soft blue to a brown, graduating them so the darker bits were on the bottom. I really like this one and it takes its place on the risers fitting in beautifully with its predecessors.
I have also bought Velcro strips to attach to the rugs to the wood riser. In the past they were stuck on with packing tape and kept falling down to trip anyone on walking up or down the stairs. Then we had a leak from the a rain a week or so ago and hubby thinks he has fixed the problem so after the next rain to be sure there’s no more water getting in, I’ll place them back on the stairs.
I’ve been known to land on a decent idea now and then, either accidentally or prompted by those around me who think more outside the box than I do. I’m pretty crammed into my own personal square, my arms and legs are contorted, folded in tightly around my torso with my head tilted hard to a shoulder so it doesn’t stick out and destroy any attempts to stay within the lines. I’m comfortable in my box and don’t see leaving it in the foreseeable future but I do occasionally entertain moments of inspiration where I amaze myself but other times I come away with a blown mind by someone else’s incredible vision. At those times my inner voice wails, “WHY didn’t I think of that!?”
The book I’m writing for “The ABC’s of Rug Hooking” inspired by the Alphabet I’m hooking was only supposed to be a fun, colourful poster until someone more insightful suggested it would make a lovely book. A lightbulb moment for me, why it never dawned on me is one of those mysteries I’ll take to my grave, or at least to the publisher. Ideas are always so darn easy once someone plants a seed. But for this scenario perhaps I am a genius; keeping people in my entourage who are smarter than me.
This morning is a perfect example. My hubby, my biggest supporter and fan, is a genius. The fact that he married me pretty much proves it, but I digress. I heard words come out of his mouth this morning and couldn’t believe it hadn’t dawned on me before. I mean, really, because it’s so bloody obvious I must be dull and dim-witted to miss it. It concerns the Nautical Riser project I’m working on that we were discussing as we were looking at the new pattern stretched across on my hooking frame. He says, “Why don’t you put rope across the top of the first riser and at the bottom of the last riser so it is a continuous link of rope that stops the eye from drifting off the landing.”
My eyes weren’t quite open at that point, I hadn’t had a coffee yet, but hearing this they flew open and I sat up from my whiny, I didn’t sleep much last night inclined sofa position, and cried “OMG, that’s a fabulous idea!”
So I will be designing an end and beginning pattern for my Nautical Riser collection. In the meantime I’ve started on my next installation, pattern number 9 with 7 more to go. This one is two stylized fish flanking the name and design of our boat. CATALYST II, Nonsuch 33. The center is left open for those who wish to add their family surname or boat name as I did, and I should add we would love to put on for those that buy the pattern. I have toyed with the colour plan but haven’t fully decided where the reds will be, it being the constant that runs throughout my hooked riser rugs.
I finished my Paddles yesterday and was very happy with the way they turned out. That little #3 line of Antique Red under each paddle makes it pop, as if they were hanging on a wall in the boat shed. I used a Blue Ombre (pictured above) for the background and cut it down the various shades from a soft blue to a brown, graduating them so the darker bits were on the bottom. I really like this one and it takes its place on the risers fitting in beautifully with its predecessors.
I have also bought Velcro strips to attach to the rugs to the wood riser. In the past they were stuck on with packing tape and kept falling down to trip anyone on walking up or down the stairs. Then we had a leak from the a rain a week or so ago and hubby thinks he has fixed the problem so after the next rain to be sure there’s no more water getting in, I’ll place them back on the stairs.
A good indication of a person’s character is how they make you feel even after they’ve left the building. I’m sure Elvis worked his magic, but for everyday folks, people who come in and out of our lives no matter how briefly, they can also leave a lingering impression.
It was never truer on Saturday at my first beginner class of 2019. These women were fun and talented and took to rug hooking like fish to water. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time than teaching the technique of rug hooking to a group of delightful women that wish to broaden their artistic talents and add another fiber art to their portfolio. I was suitably impressed with their efforts and enthusiasm.
But on this particular day there was something else afoot, working behind the scenes. I found myself in the presence of two exceptional women whose energy lit up the room and I believe if I was gifted at seeing auras, theirs would have blinded me.
It’s amazing how strangers can cause such an emotional reaction. I’m usually quite excited from teaching and come away from the experience elated, but these gals drove it up a notch to make me feel like I was walking on air. And call me crazy but after the class, I felt sad as they walked out the door. I know this must sound superduper, stalker type weird, but there was something about them that drew me in and sucked the 'poor me' right out of my being.
I know I’ve been in need of an emotional enema lately. I’ve been feeling lower than the sole of a shoe for most of 2018 and I’ve been working hard to get it to ankle height so far in 2019, and was feeling optimistic I’d make it to a knee or perhaps a thigh by summer. These infectious gals scraped me off the floor and took my mood to the top of my crown in one felled swoop. If only I could bottle their personal magnetism, I’d be snorting it daily and world peace would be plausible.
Anyway, I don’t want to drone on but I walked away from the shop in a bit of a question mark??? I recanted the conversations we had to hubby in the car on the way home until I’d hammered it flat and ran out of words to describe the positive energy that had zapped me. I’m never like this. I’m not a person who gets excited that easily, my feet are planted a foot deep and my personality is more of a flat liner than any kind of zigzagging arrhythmia.
You can learn a lot about a person in a short conversation and their positivity and optimism was absolutely contagious. Anyway, I felt compelled to share this, putting my mental competency on the line. It was just a weird and wonderful experience to be touched by strangers in such a way that it rewired my brain for the rest of the weekend.
It was never truer on Saturday at my first beginner class of 2019. These women were fun and talented and took to rug hooking like fish to water. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time than teaching the technique of rug hooking to a group of delightful women that wish to broaden their artistic talents and add another fiber art to their portfolio. I was suitably impressed with their efforts and enthusiasm.
But on this particular day there was something else afoot, working behind the scenes. I found myself in the presence of two exceptional women whose energy lit up the room and I believe if I was gifted at seeing auras, theirs would have blinded me.
It’s amazing how strangers can cause such an emotional reaction. I’m usually quite excited from teaching and come away from the experience elated, but these gals drove it up a notch to make me feel like I was walking on air. And call me crazy but after the class, I felt sad as they walked out the door. I know this must sound superduper, stalker type weird, but there was something about them that drew me in and sucked the 'poor me' right out of my being.
I know I’ve been in need of an emotional enema lately. I’ve been feeling lower than the sole of a shoe for most of 2018 and I’ve been working hard to get it to ankle height so far in 2019, and was feeling optimistic I’d make it to a knee or perhaps a thigh by summer. These infectious gals scraped me off the floor and took my mood to the top of my crown in one felled swoop. If only I could bottle their personal magnetism, I’d be snorting it daily and world peace would be plausible.
Anyway, I don’t want to drone on but I walked away from the shop in a bit of a question mark??? I recanted the conversations we had to hubby in the car on the way home until I’d hammered it flat and ran out of words to describe the positive energy that had zapped me. I’m never like this. I’m not a person who gets excited that easily, my feet are planted a foot deep and my personality is more of a flat liner than any kind of zigzagging arrhythmia.
You can learn a lot about a person in a short conversation and their positivity and optimism was absolutely contagious. Anyway, I felt compelled to share this, putting my mental competency on the line. It was just a weird and wonderful experience to be touched by strangers in such a way that it rewired my brain for the rest of the weekend.
When we bought our boat the topside teak was in bad need of a facelift. Naive and not knowing the price of teak, my first thought was full replacement, but my experienced husband assured me it would rejuvenate beautifully. Of course I thought he was joking, it looked like crap to me and he’s known to be cheap, I mean frugal, so I figured I’d be working for nothing. But I ended up being totally blown away at the amazing resilience of this incredible wood.
I tackled the handrails first. The finish was scratched and the wood suffered bare areas and the varnish had turned white as water had gotten in under it and in some areas black mold had moved in. They looked dry; as if they’d crumble in my hands and I wasn’t hopeful they would ever look anything but old. Gregg thought it best to remove them because we were experiencing several leaks below that we couldn’t pin point the source of; the sealer was missing in areas and what remained was dry and crumbly and looked suspect. Reinstalling them with new sealer would hopefully guarantee years of problem free maintenance suiting our mantra of “an ounce of prevention”. Also, the varnish needed to be on the underside of the handles for the finish to last longer. Any place water can get in will ruin the finish within a season and this was a job that should last a few years.
So we removed them. Unfortunately one had a hairline crack and snapped clean through so the first job was to glue it back together. Then Gregg was called away for work in Alberta and left me to refinish them, which I was very happy to do. I went to work with the heat gun removing all of the varnish. It was slow tedious work but I must say I enjoyed every minute of it. There’s something rewarding in seeing a transformation begin. The only drawback was the heat. At times not only had the humidity beaten down the garage door to stifle me, but the heat gun radiated enough warmth that I could have been a contender in a wet T-Shirt contest. Sorry, there’s no photo for that!
Funny how the rails look so small on the boat but in the garage they spanned the length of the six foot work bench and hung over both edges by several feet. They were curved and rounded which made them awkward to work with so I had to clamp them to the surface to stay in place while I melted the finish with the gun. At times I used a card scraper but I found the gun more effective especially with the rounded edges, used in conjunction with a small sized paint scraper it was the most effective tool I found to do the job.
There were grooves in the wood where the finish had settled and turned dark so I used the edge of the scraper to dig at them, the varnish was brittle and would flick out, I can still hear the little crunches as it cracked free. I fussed more than I needed too but I had plenty of time on my hands, with a month to go before Gregg got home so we could install them and launch the boat.
Once the sanding was complete I used Two Part Teak Cleaner, recommended by Doug at The Boat Locker in Lunenburg. It would bleach the wood, taking care of any mold that might have been lingering in the cracks. The first time I used it I couldn’t believe how Part One darkened the wood, and then when I rinsed it off and applied the Part Two, the wood looked fresh and clean. Another thorough rinse and then I let it dry. I laid them on their sides to apply the Epiphane Gloss to the bottom area that would mount to the boat. I put on eight coats to seal it.
Then I mounted both rails on 2 x 4 strips of wood using the existing screw holes, leaving a gap between the handle and the wood to varnish easily around the base. This allowed me to work on both sides at once making for quicker work. This was the fun part, watching the mirror shine build. I sanded between the coats, vacuumed and wiped them down with Epiphane thinner. The result was amazing. They looked like new rails off the factory floor. Hubby was right!
Gregg and I installed them, a tricky little job, me on top adding the sealer and holding them in place while Gregg was below with screws and the drill. It’s been three years now and they are looking a bit dull as the shine has been weathered but this year I plan to sand and put on two more coats to bring back the brilliance and they’ll be good to go for another few years. I also want to have covers made for them as the sun is brutal on the finish.
I tackled the handrails first. The finish was scratched and the wood suffered bare areas and the varnish had turned white as water had gotten in under it and in some areas black mold had moved in. They looked dry; as if they’d crumble in my hands and I wasn’t hopeful they would ever look anything but old. Gregg thought it best to remove them because we were experiencing several leaks below that we couldn’t pin point the source of; the sealer was missing in areas and what remained was dry and crumbly and looked suspect. Reinstalling them with new sealer would hopefully guarantee years of problem free maintenance suiting our mantra of “an ounce of prevention”. Also, the varnish needed to be on the underside of the handles for the finish to last longer. Any place water can get in will ruin the finish within a season and this was a job that should last a few years.
So we removed them. Unfortunately one had a hairline crack and snapped clean through so the first job was to glue it back together. Then Gregg was called away for work in Alberta and left me to refinish them, which I was very happy to do. I went to work with the heat gun removing all of the varnish. It was slow tedious work but I must say I enjoyed every minute of it. There’s something rewarding in seeing a transformation begin. The only drawback was the heat. At times not only had the humidity beaten down the garage door to stifle me, but the heat gun radiated enough warmth that I could have been a contender in a wet T-Shirt contest. Sorry, there’s no photo for that!
Funny how the rails look so small on the boat but in the garage they spanned the length of the six foot work bench and hung over both edges by several feet. They were curved and rounded which made them awkward to work with so I had to clamp them to the surface to stay in place while I melted the finish with the gun. At times I used a card scraper but I found the gun more effective especially with the rounded edges, used in conjunction with a small sized paint scraper it was the most effective tool I found to do the job.
There were grooves in the wood where the finish had settled and turned dark so I used the edge of the scraper to dig at them, the varnish was brittle and would flick out, I can still hear the little crunches as it cracked free. I fussed more than I needed too but I had plenty of time on my hands, with a month to go before Gregg got home so we could install them and launch the boat.
Once the sanding was complete I used Two Part Teak Cleaner, recommended by Doug at The Boat Locker in Lunenburg. It would bleach the wood, taking care of any mold that might have been lingering in the cracks. The first time I used it I couldn’t believe how Part One darkened the wood, and then when I rinsed it off and applied the Part Two, the wood looked fresh and clean. Another thorough rinse and then I let it dry. I laid them on their sides to apply the Epiphane Gloss to the bottom area that would mount to the boat. I put on eight coats to seal it.
Then I mounted both rails on 2 x 4 strips of wood using the existing screw holes, leaving a gap between the handle and the wood to varnish easily around the base. This allowed me to work on both sides at once making for quicker work. This was the fun part, watching the mirror shine build. I sanded between the coats, vacuumed and wiped them down with Epiphane thinner. The result was amazing. They looked like new rails off the factory floor. Hubby was right!
Gregg and I installed them, a tricky little job, me on top adding the sealer and holding them in place while Gregg was below with screws and the drill. It’s been three years now and they are looking a bit dull as the shine has been weathered but this year I plan to sand and put on two more coats to bring back the brilliance and they’ll be good to go for another few years. I also want to have covers made for them as the sun is brutal on the finish.
The broken area now glued and taped to hold. You can see how badly they need to be stripped and re-varnished.
Me with the gun and scraper.
 |  |
The miracle chemicals, but make sure you wear eye protection, a mask and gloves.
Left rail is bleached and finished, the right rail has been coated with Step One and waiting for a rinse.
The bow pulpit teak, wheel and handrails ready for installation.
Christine Little has been ranked #5 out of the 60 top rug hooking bloggers by Rug Hooking Magazine!
Max Anderson, Australia, recipient of my Nova Scotia Treasures rug. An award of excellence for promoting Canada through his writing.
RSS Feed
Archives
September 2020
August 2020
June 2020
May 2020
April 2020
March 2020
February 2020
December 2019
November 2019
October 2019
September 2019
August 2019
July 2019
May 2019
April 2019
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
December 2018
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
December 2017
November 2017
October 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016
May 2016
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
January 2015
December 2014
November 2014
October 2014
September 2014
August 2014
July 2014
June 2014
May 2014
April 2014
March 2014
February 2014
January 2014
December 2013
November 2013
October 2013
September 2013
August 2013
July 2013
June 2013
May 2013
April 2013
March 2013
February 2013
January 2013
December 2012
November 2012
October 2012
Gift Certificates are available for that special rug hooker in your life! Any denomination, no expiry date!
Categories
(Click on the categories for past blogs)
All
Announcements
Beginner Class
Christmas
Colour Planning
Contests
Copyright
Coupon
Customer Rugs
Cutter Servicing
Dyeing
Equipment
Featured Hooker
Giveaway Draw
Guest Blogger
Guest Blogger
Health & Fitness
Home & Heart
Hooked Rugs
Hooking Groups
Hook In Talk
Initially Yours
Jibber Jabber
Just A Bit Of Fun!
Life's Experiences
Life's Experiences
New Design
New Ideas
Pattern Of The Week
Patterns Hooked
Pets
Rants
Recipes
Rememberingfbe7326ff7
Rug Schools
Show & Tell
Show-tell
The Rant
Tips Technique
Tips Techniquef0cd117ab4
Visitors
Workshops
We have a pot to "Fiz" in!
