I'm sorry for the long pause around here. Like many Americans this winter, I came down with a nasty case of the flu that has lingered into a bad cough that is still going away. I've still been able to do some sewing and crocheting (when you are stuck in bed, crochet is a nice change from reading all day), but I haven't been able to go out and photograph the things I've been working on. Especially the unseasonable spring dress I finished recently----I'm not sure when I'll get to photograph that one. But I sewed it because I wanted to remind myself that warmth and sunshine will come again, even if it will take some months to get there.
In the meantime, here is a peek at a recently finished skirt (worn with my homemade wool peplum jacket) until Mr Rat can take better pictures of it. He snapped this quick photo while I ventured outside long enough to feed our neighbor ducks. We were lucky enough to still be standing nearby with the camera out when our most elusive duck-neighbors, the mandarins, came through our yard. They have such beautiful feathers. Whenever I see them against the snow, I think of Japanese woodblock prints.
I hope you are all healthier than I am at the moment, and enjoying the beauty of winter (or summer, if you are in the southern hemisphere).
My most recent dress reminds me of Jane Eyre, both for its somber color and its whimsy. The pattern I used was McCall 4968, circa the 1970s. I sewed it in a very lovely grey wool worsted with a subtle herringbone weave that I found at the thrift store a few years ago and only recently had both the confidence that I could sew with it and the need for more warm wool clothing to push me forward into cutting it out and making it into a dress at last. This may be one of my more eccentric dresses, with its little flutter sleeves, but I like it: it is warm and comfortable, and the sleeves make it special.
The sewing process was pretty straightforward: I edge-stitched all the seams to help them lay flat and crisp. I also pinked the edges of the fabric on the inside since I plan to wash this dress very gently and the wool is very firmly woven and not prone to fraying. I stitched the darts down so they would stay flat, a detail I've noticed on some wool jackets at the thrift store. Since even thin wool is still thick in layers, I was careful to grade my seams and gathers where they met. To make sure I didn't get a rippled zipper, I interfaced the edges of zipper opening before I stitched the zipper in by hand. The only part of the sewing process that was particularly difficult was sewing the facings over the gathered sleeves and trimming the allowance, then flipping it to the inside and top-stitching the outside. I had to unpick my first attempt and try again, because it was hard to manage that many layers of wool in such a small area as the arm-hole and have a neat finish.
Mr Rat was kind enough to take some pictures of my new jumper dress on our Sunday morning walk to the local park with Gia. Other than a few red berries, there isn't a very wide range of colors in our world right now: mostly shades of grey and white, a little bit of dull green, lots of soft and faded yellow ochre, brown, and the bright blue of a winter sky. We're due for a big storm that is supposed to blow in tomorrow, so the world will have even less color the next time we go walking. I hope wherever you are, you are staying warm, and enjoying the post-holiday peace of January.
Berthe Morisot Pasie Sewing in the Garden oil on canvas 1882
by Hazel Hall
The wind is sewing with needles of rain.
With shining needles of rain
It stitches into the thin
Cloth of earth. In,
In, in, in.
Oh the wind has often sewed with me.
One, two, three.
Spring must have fine things
To wear like other springs.
Of silken green the grass must be
Embroidered. One and two and three.
Then every crocus must be made
So subtly as to seem afraid
Of lifting color from the ground;
And after crocuses the round
Heads of tulips, and all the fair
Intricate garb that Spring will wear.
The wind must sew with needles of rain,
With shining needles of rain,
Stitching into the thin
Cloth of earth, in,
In, in, in,
For all the springs of futurity.
One, two, three.
Mr and Mrs Rat
Mr and Mrs Rat like to sew