Ribbons, laces, bows, and crosses

Lately, I've found myself making quite a few Baptismal gowns. I've used several skills combined to make them special for the recipients, and their godparents. Many of my gowns have been smocked with rayon thread and delicate glass beads. Here and there have been a few red crosses, pin tucks and cuffed sleeves. 

While these are all wonderful techniques, I've always felt there was something more I could add; and maybe even something more masculine. Today I found the right supplies to try my hand at a new technique. Lace shaping. The results are so dramatic it looks like it took forever to place the lace and make it stay. The best part? This allows me to integrate another color or texture, whether with the lace, or behind. I'm a little excited, honestly. Here are a few pictures as an idea. 

 How sweet would it be for a boy, instead of the pin pleats in the center, to have a cross?  Or even have this lace shaping as the hem, of course with the cross in the center front. 

I've recently seen a blanket that I wish I'd designed. 

Matushka Anna Crawford is so creative! She has inspired me since we met. at one point, we contemplated finishing other people's projects they started, with a business " The Best of Intentions". That idea still has potential, since I'm still finishing other projects. 

Back to task. The bow looks very difficult, but with the right pins and a good surface, its done in a heartbeat. the only difficult problem is trimming out the bow without ruining the lace! 

so precious for a little girl! 

So, with all that in mind, I'm open for suggestions on crosses. I have a piece of pink batiste I intend to work on as a sample.  Who knows what that will become, but as my skill progresses, I'm sure this will find it's way into my gowns. I hope the owners enjoy the new designs as much as they have in the past. 

A Legacy of Love

If I write about my love of sewing and music,  I must tell you about the wonderful people in my life who helped me learn and polish my skills. This is my grandmother's house. I remember several holidays, most of them with snow up to the top step of the porch, where I sat watching her knit and spent hours in the back bedroom sifting through craft supplies older than I could have ever dreamed.

My best memory  of this was 1983. I was 9; my sister and I received a " color with yarn" kit from our Grandma. I think we had a fashion doll each, and there were always clothes, but my favorite was the neat pen with the bobbin on top that was supposed to "color" in yarn. In my family's fashion, we cleared off the table and prepared all components for our project. The " canvas" was a sturdy piece of glue-laden cardboard with a picture drawn in black. I think mine was a butterfly, and my sisters was a horse, but I could be wrong. We loaded our "pens" with our yarn, carefully removed the plastic protecting the precious glue from the rest of the world and began our creative work.

I worked diligently for hours, not knowing or caring when my sister gave up, my cousins left for their house, or my mother went to the kitchen to cook dinner. I was determined to color with yarn. By the time I was forced to stop, I had one section of one wing stuck, and I think I had an antennae done. That was it. Every time I tried to make the yarn stick, it would pop back off, and I would have to replace the whole section. I finally gave up on the "pen" and worked with my not-so-coordinated fingers. Finally I had to put my precious project back in its box, and pack it away for the trip back home.

Then there was the magical trips into Grandma's closets, and the craft room. Her sister had, at one point, owned a craft store, and perpetually sent us supplies too. My Grandma's supplies were all organized in the best room. Up the stairs where you would bump your head if you weren't careful, and just on the left the door opened into an overgrown closet, I'm told it was my uncle's room at one point. Anyway, there were strings of beads, in many different colors, hanging from nails in the wall, rows of spooled sequins, and boxes stacked from front to back filled with treasures- blank brooches waiting for someone to paint them, jewelry findings, and tiny Christmas tree decorations for the heirloom Christmas trees we all received on our wedding day.

My favorite spot was in Grandma's closet where the cabinets were. Strangely enough, in the dining room this closet hid out of season clothes, leftover cleaning and remodling supplies, and ..... Grandma's leftover yarn.  Grandma knitted for everyone; our family, her neighbors, and the nursing homes were all recipients of her hobby. Christmas usually held something she'd crafted, I still treasure  my sweater vest from the late 80's and the several scarves I received still provide warmth in the southern winters, as do the memories of playing in her yarn and knitting needles.

Even though I watched my Grandma knit many years, my skills were limited to crochet, a single hook method of making garments. Finally, in my 20's, I asked Gram to teach me to knit. To say she was overjoyed would have been an understatement. She sat with me for hours, with the same intensity I had when I sat at her dining room table trying to color with yarn, patiently showing me how to hold the needles, cast on, knit and purl. These lessons came with a disclaimer " My tension isn't the best, and you'll have to watch yours". Grandma knew I liked to crochet tightly, and in her efforts to help me learn correctly, she wanted an indication to support my new interest.

What seemed like miles of knitting yielded uneven rows, holes and dropped stitches, all the while being very tight on my needles. What was I to do except rip it out and start again?  Exactly what I did.

Years later, and a few months after my grandma's memorial, I have a ball of multi-colored baby yarn sitting beside me. This project is for a friend who will welcome their first child into the world very soon.  I can't think of a better way to share in my  Grandma's legacy than to continue her hobby and give to others as she did.

(Sewing) Up a Greek Without a Pattern

I can feel the eyebrows rising even now, before I'm through the first line. Especially from my gifted godfather, in the picture; he calls it " Spock-ing", as in Star Trek. so, with that in mind, I tread lightly and continue on.

A few years ago, a priest asked me if I could make a priest's every day robe for him ( otherwise known as a cassock or riasa). I felt confident enough in my  abilities to take on the assignment, if we could manage to find or create a pattern. Hours of seeking online led to nothing, and I was convinced I'd have to spend months at a monastery learning to make these specialized garments. One evening after church, the priest approached me with an armful of black cloth, asking "Can you do something with this?" and proceeded to put it on.

This wonderful garment had obviously seen years of service. Other than the holes everywhere, strained seams, and arms threatening to fall off any minute, there was a very large tear across the back that reminded me of old winter underwear, you know the kind- the dreaded long-johns that had a "back door"; but these were in black, and had no legs. I tried not to laugh thinking of all the work this cassock had seen, both physical and spiritual, but this was a " you had to be there" moment- the priest standing with several of the younger teens all around trying to hide their laughter too, became amusing. He joined in the laughing, creating stories about how the cassock came to its current state,

After collecting ourselves, priest included, he handed me the cassock, and we went on our way. The next few weeks led to me very carefully removing each piece, and taking mental note of the stitch direction, how the pieces fit together, and where the buttons and buttonholes should be placed. One very important morsel of information- cassocks are generally made of wool or a poly-cotton blend, depending on their area of origin. This one was wool, and as I disassembled it, I started coughing and sneezing. Wool deteriorates and also causes allergies. So there I was, trying to pray, take the " pattern cassock" apart, and looking like I was in my personal poppy field. I am still wondering how I managed!

Finally I found success obtaining my elusive pattern, as it were, and I continued on to find an acceptable fabric for this cassock. I found several, and one was acceptable. It was rather heavy for a cassock, but that's what he said he wanted, so we went with it. I took the fabric home, prepared it, and began placing the patern, ever so carefully because as I said, it was fragile. I'd already taken off more fabric and made more holes while I was in the deconstruction phase.

Fabric prepared, pattern laid out, and alterations made, I began cutting and constructing. It didn't take me long to find a challenging seam intersection. I thought for hours trying to remember how these seams looked when they came out, and finally, weeks later, the solution came to me. I quickly finished the garment, and took it to Father, only to take it home for alterations. I had taken my alteration supplies with me, expecting to have the typical " first garment" experience- one arm longer than the other, pockets lopsided, and nothing fitting. Luckily, that didn't happen.

Alterations complete, I returned it to Father to his satisfaction. He wore it several times, and then informed me it was perfect for an Alaskan winter with no topcoat. I hoped he wasn't telling us he was moving to Alaska.

That led to several cassock alterations and restorations, which were shared among family members. Most recently, I've encountered another challenging "donor cassock"- this time a Greek style with several stylized seams throughout. Again, I came to challenging seams, some sewn, and some personal, and found myself finishing the cassock more than a year later. When I delivered the cassock for the final fitting, I received word that the cassock was well liked by an onlooker, saying it looked much better than the previously owned cassocks, and draped well. Now that I've made the final alterations on that one, I hope it will be as liked as the previously owned ones.

The current project is yet another cassock, but I've noticed the challenging seams aren't nearly as difficult as they once were. In fact, my husband was very surprised I only took 4 days to complete the preparation and construction phase. Tomorrow, I'll put the cassock on its owner for the first time, and see how close to " right" I was with my alterations.

I wonder sometimes, if the challenging seams get easier because I've now constructed 4 cassocks ( a number that pales in comparison to the true professionals) or if there are members of " the great cloud of witnesses" Paul describes who have come to sew with me. In either case, Glory to God for the work all 4 new cassocks will complete, and the work the tattered cassock still performs.

Oh I almost forgot, my godfather in the picture is wearing cassock number 2.

Singing needles

I've finally done it. I've joined the blogger world, thanks to the encouragement of my husband, and a few other very influential people. I've been asked if I'll write here, or whether I'll have merely a form of amusement. At this point, I'm not sure. It will be a place to share works both written and sewn. We'll see what happens.

 Should I start rambling, someone stop me!