A belated Brag ...



I just want to brag a bit about this gorgeous scarf which my daughter gave to me for Christmas. I had spotted it at mmhandwovens (an Etsy shop) and I was smitten. I immediately asked to have it placed on hold, but after some discussion with Adeline, the aforementioned daughter, I decided I was being too extravagant and regretfully chose not to buy it after all. Little did I realize that my darling offspring was actually scheming to buy it for me. It is just the best present ever, especially with its backstory, and it is the most excruciatingly beautiful piece of weaving ever! 

The scarf was handwoven by Margery Meyers Haber, of silk and wool. Margery spins and dyes the yarn herself, creating colors that have a wonderful, subtle glow. The weaving is extraordinarily fine, with a heavenly drape. And oh, my, the plied fringes she makes are twisted by hand, a minimum of 100 times each! Every time I wrap this wondrous scarf about my neck, I am connected to two beautiful women: my daughter, Adeline, who I love beyond the reach of words to describe; and this wonderful artist-weaver, Margery, who I hope to meet one day. 

Speaking of gifts ...




I belong to the Surface Design Association, an excellent organization which strives "to inspire creativity, encourage innovation and advocate for artistic excellence as the global leader in textile-inspired art and design." The Connecticut chapter is particularly active and that is due in large part to our leader, Ellen Schiffman. As a way of thanking her for all she does, the members, led by Pam Lacey and Missy Stevens, created a fantastic book, each page of which was a 12" x 12" piece of fiber art. My contribution was the little blue nine-patch, above. 




It was my final piece of textile art completed in the year 2015.



I haven't had a drink, yet I'm weaving


I signed up for Just Considering Weave with Jude Hill (Spirit Cloth). My first attempt was with pale teal and white threads. It took only a few rows before I realized it looked mostly white and very boring.

So, I switched to a more colorful palette. For my warp thread, I chose a nice raspberry red. For the weft, I used a variegated thread, which almost feels like cheating, because it makes it so easy to weave a pattern. 

Colorful is good at this time of year ... like my geraniums. My geraniums, by the way, allow me to pretend I have a green thumb. If it weren't for virtually maintenance-free plants, I'd have to admit the truth that gardening is but one of many Martha Stewart-esque talents which I lack.

I never look at geraniums without being reminded of a favorite childhood poem, written by A.A. Milne, author of the Winnie-the-Pooh series of books. I enjoy this poem even more as an adult. 


There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he’d a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
“Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say ‘Ninety-nine’ while I look at your chest….
Don’t you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?”

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he’d said “Ninety-nine”) that he’d tried and he’d tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
“What the patient requires is a change,” and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
“Now these,” he remarked, “give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).”

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
“And now,” said the Doctor, “we’ll soon have you right.”

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
“I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).”

The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
“How very effective,” he said, as he shook
The thermometer, “all these chrysanthemums look!”

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
“How lovely,” he thought, “to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)”

The Doctor said, “Tut! It’s another attack!”
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, “How sweet your chrysanthemums are!”

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
“I’ll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!”

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, “There’s nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!”

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.


Winnie-the-Pooh belonged to Christopher Robin, of course. I had my own bear. Here I am with my dog and my bear, circa 1952. 

My bear is still with me, in 2014. There are some things one doesn't give up.