Sewing the seeds of love.

Today is Reflections Day at Sew Grateful. The most recent influences on my sewing have without doubt been the joyous, determined and skilled inhabitants of my Blogloving feed. English Eccentric, Continental Chic, US Coolness, Australian ease and effortless goddam style oozes from every blogging corner of the planet. Reading my blog feed is my daily awe and inspiration, and that’s without paying credit to the remarkable knitters, crocheters and artists in the same feed. You all rock, and I’m grateful to each and every one of you.
Yet, the post that I felt I should really post here has already been written, a year ago. It doesn’t mention any of the brilliant sewing bloggers as I was yet to find many of them, but does consider those who started me in sewing and who kept the embers glowing when I didn’t have a machine. I hope you enjoy it.

Good purl gone bad

In the eye of the getting-ready hurricane this morning I grabbed Small Girl’s mittens on a string to find that the button attaching one of them was falling off. Seconds later I had thread, needle and scissors and was sewing it back on while my tea brewed. If only the rest of my life could be this organised.

I grew up with sewing as one of the basic home skills. It wasn’t something that needed to be done well or with massive aspirations to improve, just something that was learned and done like walking to school or eating breakfast. One of my earliest memories is sitting in a sunny lawned back garden rather grumpily attempting to mend a ripped dolly after my mother told me that she was busy but would thread a needle so that I could fix it myself. Babysitters would turn up with cut out pieces of…

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