Rosy russet morn

  When I got up at cockcrow this morning, I stood at the top of the stairs and gazed in sleepy amazement at the rose tinted sunrise. The air was suffused with pink particles of light - 

I felt as though I were wearing rose coloured spectacles.

I grabbed my camera and started shooting through the window in my desperation to capture the rosy sheen.

I jabbered all about it over breakfast while Mr. Lane tried to concentrate on the latest news about the European debt crisis. 

When I got dressed I decided to camouflage myself without meaning to! 

I give you proof! 

Mr.Lane obliged with the following incriminating shots of me blending in with Autumns finest tawny pinks and cinnamon swirls. 

Now I must confess that I am not a great dried flower exponent but nonetheless I find myself strangely drawn to their crisp tawny faded edged beauty - it's that letting go of summer moment. I love to see seed pods in the frost and snow, especially the umbellifers - cow parsley and yarrow. I am cutting hydrangeas to dry for Christmas, loving the myriad soft colours blended on their heads.

Planning wreaths and garlands, wondering about cutting up leaves from books like funky junky art

 

 And so yes, as usual I am looking at the world through my rose colored specs and am more than happy with the view! I really must snap out of this flowery reverie and apply myself to choosing curtain fabric! I think I know what colour palette I might be in!

Still looking through these beauties I thought I would leave you with this gorgeous shot of the London Eye

   

 

My heartfelt thanks to all of you for your kind comments on the stitching, I am a little bowled over and so very grateful that you took the time to stop and tell me your thoughts, thank you x
 Have a lovely weekend wont you?
Sarah xXx

Stitched up

I have been bitten. 

It all started when Lynn at Sea Angels posted about a wonderful day spent at Jessie Chorley's embroidered story book workshop. As you know off I went - a novice, non-sewing lamb to the seamstress.

And then it happened - the bite I mean.

 Ever since I started my piece (snort! I could think of other names for my effort but as we are in polite society I shall refrain from using them!) I have been swept away with a tide of fulfilment and joy! I may not be very good but there is something marvelous about sitting down on Sunday afternoon and picking up some sewing!

By Jessie Chorley

by Caroline Zoob

I have long admired Caroline Zoob's exquisite embroidery and viewed it as so amazing I could never possibly aspire to achieve anything so gorgeous. I used to squirrel my pennies and visit Housepoints just off Northcote Road back in the London days.

by Cal Patch

Then I started to realise that I love applique! Isn't this header by wonderful?

And during my Etsy travels I discovered Funkyjunky Art. 

I am a real sucker for lovewarn fabrics and old books and fabrics

 Of course I know that many of you were already more than switched on to all this stitchery pokery, yes I am thinking of the lovely Viv at Hen's Teeth! But I am a very slow starter!

I have been discovering a whole new hidden world.

         

Wonderful Liberty fabrics displayed in embroidery hoops, genius and the wonderful work of Rosemary Milner LOVE IT!

 So anyway, no more delaying tactics - I hear you 

"Come on Lane girl - show us what you did!"

 A few footnotes : 

The background fabric is the fabric from my roman blinds in the Old Lane.

The window fabric is the satin from the bodice of my wedding dress

 (off-cuts! No I didn't cut up my wedding dress!)

The chimney fabric is a scrap of daisy chain from our kitchen when I was a child

The bunting includes some remnants from Mr.Lane's old shirts

The lace belonged to Ganny (Mr.Lane's Granny.)

I wrote the words from the poem Take the Long Road, the long road home onto paper and used them as my template for the bunting. They will never be seen but I will know they are there.

You get the idea - it all means something to me. So no matter how wobbly and unsure those stitches I smile at each scrap of fabric and all that they contain.

Still got loads to do but you get the idea?

Sarah

xXx

Let me take you by the hand.....

.....and lead you through the streets of London!

Yep! Yesterday I ventured up to the Smoke. 

I left the train at Charing Cross and stepped out into a crisp, crystal blue morning, here's what I saw. 

Only the very tip in sunlight.

Turning left I headed for Trafalgar Square and my favourite big cats.

A quick glance towards the spare plinth, the one where different artists are invited to create a temporary sculpture. (Such a brilliant idea.)

Oh that's fantastic! I step up for a closer look, "Mr.Lane will love this!" I say to myself - or maybe I said it aloud as a group of Japanese tourists glanced nervously at me?

Then I drop down onto the Mall

I marvel at the lovely ICA

And then turn right and look up at my most favourite steps in the whole of Londinium! A spot where Mr.Lane and I have strolled/raced/kissed many times over our years together.

I marvel too at Boris's bikes! 

They are such a great idea - Paris did it long ago and at last we have caught up. Nice that the turquoise and navy livery matches the high blue arc of sky.

Almost upon Jermyn Street, the Red Lion scene of several incidents involving too many sherberts, but that was a long time ago.....

At last reaching Piccadily and my destination

The Royal Academy of Arts to see....

DEGAS and the ballet.

Lat night I was so excited about seeing his work in the flesh I had Christmas Eve tummy and fidgeted about so much that Mr.Lane had to tell me to calm down!

And no, it did not disappoint. I just wanted to show a soupicon.

I adore his observation of all the costume details, velvet ribbons tied into bows at the nape of the neck. Silk wraps, flowers sewn onto tulle and threaded through their hair. Oh and the way he describes tulle is amazing. His clever composition, panoramic and ground breaking. The colours in his late paintings are extraordinary. 

I am no art critic I just loved it all in that way you do when you are physically thrilled by what you see.

Degas wrote a poem called The Dance Class, some of the phrases are so beautiful

" The ribbon of her steps twists and knots, Her body sinks and falls in the movement of a bird."

"And her satin feet like needles embroider patterns of pleasure. The springing girl wears out my poor eyes, straining to follow her."

And as I sat on the train winding out into ever greener landscape my mind wandered off too. I daydreamed about The Red Shoes and resolved to watch it again at the weekend. Moira Shearer plays an auburn haired prima ballerina torn between her love for a composer and her obsession with ballet.....Mr Degas would approve I think.

 And now I shall exit stage left!

xXx