Last year, I bought five silk worms at a school fair and raised them into moths. Later, when I was wondering what to expect next, I had quite a conversation with a delightful woman in the Button Bar in the Adelaide Arcade, as you do. I can’t remember how we got from the tea cosy she was knitting to silk worms, but somehow we did. She told me to expect the eggs that resulted from a dalliance between a couple of my moths to hatch in September. I remember thinking about this on 1 September. Then on Friday 13 September I realised I had taken no action and sprinted down the hall to check on them and lo! There were tiny black creatures wiggling around! I made an immediate mercy dash to the nearest mulberry tree. Can you make the hatchlings out?
The hatchlings are the tiny black lines. Those spots on the cardboard are eggs. Today I conservatively estimate I have 50 silkworm hatchlings, and I have started working on finding some of them new homes.
Meanwhile, I have been on a bag jag… sewing loads more bags and taming [some of] my scrap collection. I decided to photograph a lining in progress on the weekend, because what is more thrilling than a lining?
Well, one of our chooks seemed to think so. She could tell whatever was happening on the table was worth looking into, so she flew up immediately to check into it. Regrettably, this was not an edible thrill from her point of view.
Thrills come in very disparate packages, all depending on perspective… or so it seems to me! Audrey finds earwigs a lot more thrilling than I do.
Meanwhile, I have taken the nettle stems back out of the retting bath (which this time certainly did go to the garden–) and set them out in the rain to rinse. Since so much of my crafting takes place in crevices of time and is ordered by whim rather than a linear plan, I hope you’re managing to follow all these emerging themes …