As a beginner quilter, I proved that I get by with a little help from my friends.
I've got a new obsession: bullet journals. It's really a combination of old obsessions — list-making, planning, and books — all coming together in a different way. As with any new interest, I'm in the process of learning all about it. I'm reading blog posts, watching how-to videos, and examining images of other people's systems to... Continue Reading →
Two years ago, I bought some soft blue Corriedale wool with touches of yellow silk in it. The minute I saw it, I thought of fog or mist. My plan was to spin a gossamer thin yarn and make a lacy shawl with it. However, as a beginning spinner, I wasn't sure if I could... Continue Reading →
A decade ago, I belonged to the Ithaca Doll Club. As a beginning doll-maker, I had lots to learn, and the other members suggested I start by following someone else's directions. I was really more interested in making soft sculpture animals than people, so it's no surprise that my first doll was half woman, half... Continue Reading →
Every year around January, I get the itch to start an art journal. More than just a sketchbook, art journals often include writing and collage work. Maybe I'm just attracted to the format -- it's a book! -- or maybe I hear art journals calling because they are my next big art form. Whatever the... Continue Reading →
The fancy socks I started a month ago are almost done, but how to finish them has me stumped. I need to graft the toes closed, and I cannot get Kitchener stitch to work. Kitchener stitch is a way to join two rows of stitches that are still on the needles by creating a row of... Continue Reading →
I received a second-hand spinning wheel from a generous friend back at the beginning of March. This little wheel, a Victoria by Louët, is portable. It folds up into a carrying case, so it requires some assembly before you can use it. As a beginning spinner, I had only used a wheel once before I... Continue Reading →
The first time I ever spun yarn was at a heritage festival at the French Azilum in Wysox, PA. A woman dressed as a colonist handed me her spindle and helped me spin a few inches of blue roving. Then she broke it off, let it twist back onto itself, and handed me my scrap of... Continue Reading →