I have a friend who has made several beautiful reverse applique t shirts with lovely images of plants or insects. Then she made a couple with the Extinction Rebellion logo (a circle representing the earth with an hourglass shape in the centre that symbolises time running out and the urgency of action). I loved them! When she said she would offer it as a crafternoon project I decided to try and give it a go–I guess that was an indication she thought it wasn’t too difficult, where previously I assumed I would not be able to do this.
The hard part for me was getting the image right. In the end, it was cereal box stencil to the rescue.
T shirt from the op shop with a little image on it that I thought could vanish in the process.
I tacked another piece of old t shirt under it and then had a go!
And–result! I made two! And gave them away at a working group meeting to people who will use and appreciate them.
Some time ago I made a Very Hungry Caterpillar shirt, while under the delusion that I am twice my usual size. Or something. Anyway, the fit was appalling, so that even I was not prepared to wear it much. So there came a day when I pulled it apart and cut out a different shirt from the pieces, with a bit of creative piecing together in places. And the shirt was reborn as Lotta Jansdotter’s Esme Shirt.
And the back… and now we wait to see if this one gets more wear!
I have tried a few pincushions thinking I’d like to go beyond the commercial ones I own. This one has been so long in the making I’ve lost track of its antecedents on the internets–there is no longer anything like it at sewandso.com.uk. I even completed the embroidery on the top ages ago and apparently squibbed (that is, acted on my cowardice) at the sewing it together stage.
Then my sweetheart requested a very specific cushion and it occurred to me that it was about the size and shape of this rather large pincushion–and so a second item came to be. Two layers of a t shirt that was waiting to become part of a quilt batting. I’m happy that part of the image has lived to see another life!
I’ve also had some fun ripping apart business clothing I will no longer need. It came from the op shop and is a bit far gone to go back there and expect to be sold again. Rather than have it enter waste or rag streams, I’ve converted it to component parts and begun transforming it into bags, beginning with drawstring bags…
Another pair of frankensocks begins! It had been so long since I dyed this yarn that I was looking for undyed yarn and realised I had already dyed it. On the bottom, handspun Southdown. I am pretty happy with this spinning. High twist, true three ply, quite even (well, maybe just for me). On the top, a high twist 100% commercial merino sock yarn bought in a Ravelry destash.
I decided on a long leg and calf shaping for the boot-loving, extensive walking awesome woman for whom these socks are destined. They went with us on a trip to our first same sex wedding, in the north of the state. Oh my, what a dry state we are in. Always, but especially this year, the driest one of the betrothed can remember in her more than fifty years in this place.
Here they are finished, with the difference in colour between the yarns clearly visible. And here are some details…
These slippers (Felted clogs by Bev Galeskas, may her memory be a blessing) have been waiting around for quite a while. Composed of handspun dyed in all shade of blue, mostly handspun and indigo dyed but some unnatural blues too… I grafted the top to the sole one day while travelling and found I did not have the required third needle. Out came my chopstick! The plastic-avoiding cutlery pouch my fairy-goddess-son made me comes with chopsticks rather than a knife and fork, with backup knitting needles as a further advantage!
Here they are prior to felting with my size 10 feet for comparison.
And here they are after felting and prior to delivery to friends who run
a permaculture farm where slippers I’ve knit are apparently in constant
Well. A field, it certainly is not. But today I decided to hitch up my bicycle trailer and guerilla plant further from home. A couple of kilometres away, actually… a place by the tram line I sometimes run past and where there has been nothing but weeds growing for years.
I managed to get two bucket loads of plants in the trailer by putting the ground covers on the bottom layer and adding tools to keep the top bucket from crushing them.
One bed was empty except for the remains of weeds. I reassembled the edging on the bed where it had fallen or been pulled apart and began. I planted three acacia paradoxa seedlings in the bed beside it (also a pretty sad sight but with some native plantings still alive). I was feeling pretty pessimistic about their chances in life and questioning my decision to plant somewhere where I haven’t done as much observation as usual when a gentleman walked up and asked if I was planting. I wasn’t sure of the alternative interpretations at this stage, but soon we were chatting about what I was planting and his past in Trees for Life. I have grown for Trees for Life too, so we chatted on.
He said he’d do some weed management! He thought he could add some stakes! He’d considered planting native grasses in this area. He lived nearby. He used to have that same trailer (we had both bought them from the chap who used to make them himself, in the 1980s). The chances of these seedlings making it to any size at all have just risen immensely!
So–in went seaberry saltbush (rhagodia). I lost some water going over bumps and when bike and trailer were travelling at different speeds downhill, but most of it was still in the watering cans to give the new plantings a drink.
I also planted ruby saltbush… and picked up rubbish. In fact, I made several stops on the way home. I do find cups, plastic lids for cups and bottles, straws and such but a staggering amount of cable ties and gaffer tape too, and today I found those plastic soy sauce fish in two different locations. Go figure. Hoping next time I run past these little plants will be bigger!
Finally we are getting autumn leaves and not leaves that have fallen in the dry heat of summer, so I’ve been out collecting them from the gutters and byways.
Collecting ruby saltbush seeds…
Bladder saltbush seeds, now being collected from third generation guerilla plantings.
In my wanderings I found these around the bike path–it looks to me like another rebel for life has decided to commemorate the plants that died over summer. This one was between the railway and the street.
I started the day with a run, and on the way home picked up a plastic bag. A charity has delivered them all round the neighbourhood, requesting they be filled with second hand clothing. Many have made their way onto the street empty, however–so I stopped this one going down a drain and half filled it with rubbish in only a few blocks. I know litter picking isn’t romantic, but I hate all the rubbish and it does give me satisfaction to remove some of it. A certain would-be politician who is spending some of his many millions trying to buy his way into office is currently contributing more handbills than he should to the litter stream (we are a week out from a federal election). But also lots of straws, single use cups and lids, free newspapers in their horrible plastic bags, and bottle caps.
Far better than litter picking is planting though! This time, prostrate wattles, Indigofera Australis, scrambling saltbush and a silver leafed saltbush.
Out into the street (in a hurry I guess, the photo is all wobbly!)
Some became understorey in an area where almost all the Department of Public Transport and Infrastructure plantings died. Others I planted in an area where council has installed a watering system, and recent works on the gas main in our street resulted in loss of more plants…
I picked up some more rubbish! And then home again. On my way home a chap asked me whether I was in training for some kind of event. What kind of event???!! I couldn’t help wondering, but I think he was just nonplussed by my hauling a wheelbarrow around the place, so I didn’t ask.
I just want to brag for a moment. My beloved discovered during the first rains that the transparent panel in our garden shed roof is now full of holes. I suspect the fact it is on the possum super highway through our backyard at night has hastened the holes. Well. I replaced it all by myself (with a drill bit from a friend and some help from someone with a bigger car getting the new panel home). So here you have the view of the broken panel from the ladder; the view of my neighbour’s bamboo patch from inside the shed with the panel removed; and the ladder view of the finished job. Far from perfect but perfectly functional. I feel proud! I even texted my Dad to tell him since he has taught me a lot and surely was responsible for the gift of that power drill in the first image in the 1990s, bless him.