I made this aluminum starfish at RISD when we were told to design a toy. I’d just returned from a weekend at Narragannsett, where I’d found a scattering of beached brown sea stars. Inspired by the way they clung to my hands (I’d never before felt one) and their bumpy texture, I immediatedly brainstormed a way to recreate one (or a scattering of them). And because I couldn’t get enough of the oily sharp smell of metalshop in winter, I HAD to make one out of aluminum. My favorite memories from school there are from this project.

And what a pang I felt when I looked up this morning to find Ford playing with it! He was whirring and buzzing it all over the house, pretending it was an omidriod robot, for HOURS. It was so rad. I almost cried.

This dress. I whipped it up last night on a sewing machine that I hardly deserve. As per the instruction in the pattern, it only took me eleven stitches and a half an hour, but that seemed like a lot of work at the time. And the belt isn’t really working, but it’s a good excuse to shop for a wider one.
I have a hundred reasons to avoid my sewing machine, but as much as I like lists, it would bore you to tears reading a list of whiney excuses. Know that, at the top of the list is: two boys under 5, under my feet, all day long. And right under that? Very little patience.

When Chas was somersaulting in utero, around seven months, I began to stew up a birth quilt for him. At the time, Ford had checked out a book from the library that I found terribly inspiring, Ducklings and Pollywogs by Lizzy Rockwell. The guache and watercolor illustrations were flat but the compositions rich in detail, and I’d find myself oggling the pages when I was on the phone, or sipping coffee. It was the theme that most intrigued me: paying reverence to a small pond throughout the year, noticing small changes, seasons. So I chose to use a pond theme for the quilt. One afternoon I tore the colors I loved out of old magazines, and after I had a collection, began to assemble them on a page in my sketchbook. After the arrangement seemed right, I picked up a glitter pen and made droplets fall upon the water, adding rings of vibrations through the pond, as if I was looking into the water during a rain. For more interest, I started drawing black eyes of frogs. I cut them out and pasted them onto the paper (I had made about twelve little compositions). After that, I was in love.

Of course, after selecting fabrics and playing with applique, I chose a composition based less on cryptic eyeballs peeking out of the water and more on the idea of lilypads, or pods, on the water. Something more evocative of how I felt as I sewed: healthy, whole, very pregnant.

I handpainted the watery background, staining the kitchen floor with aqua splatters. Scraps of pond colors littered the hallway floor, beneath the table where I worked. Natural specimens lined the window above my sewing machine: reeds, willow blossoms, seed pods and empty chrysalises. With my machine, I sewed ripples in the water fabric with gossamer thread, sandwiching soft layers and different textures of cotton. I tied the quilt with different shades of green, like the aquatic plants that slide between my toes when I wade.

Chas noticed the circles one day, very young, and smiled, running his finger along the seam of a circle. I was so pleased.

And I like the way it turned out, myself.

I would love to have a fancy hardwood barn and dollhouse for the kids to play with. But they are expensive! I think I made a smart decision to recycle some boxes from Costco, fashion a good working barn from them and gesso it for the kids. One morning soon, we’ll get around to “decorating” it. Until then, it’s been getting good use as it is.

Since I can’t have my own Hanoverian gelding, I bought a pretty one at Target. It’s a Schleich and I named it Claus. When the boys ask me to play, I tap it across the rug in a meditative half pass left, then right, then I a collected canter around the rug’s perimeter. Chas will pick up a heifer and follow my little program. Ford picks up the Velociraptor and shrieks, thrusting it through the upstairs doorway, attacking the little brown rabbit.

And there you have it: the farm play “corner,” which actually is sitting atop Chas’ birth quilt, atop the chaise in the living room. But we carry it all over, sometimes outside. See more corners here.

There’s an open door before you
Shed last year’s skin before you go
A gift, upon the hearth below

Postcards, from a swap that Christina organized.

I enjoyed making this doll for Chas, who was referring to it as “Dee Dee” before dismissing it to the floor and moving on to deconstructing an old Blackberry device. Ford has since grown attached to it. I myself have been carrying it around the house also, and when I’m least aware I find myself twirling the little cap between my fingers and daydreaming about making more for the new babies in 2006 (what do you think, Elisa? A sophisticated pink velour for Claire? 🙂

If you ask Ford what he wants to be when he grows up, these days he will enthusiastically tell you that he wants to be “a daddy.” If you could see him escorting Chas through the line at the burrito shop, or sharing his cereal with him in the back seat of the car, or hear him translate Chas’ babble when I’m most desperately trying to understand what he’s saying, his choice would make perfect sense. Ford is very sensitive to human expressions and needs, and he loves to help and to understand how people work. I think he’ll be an outstanding dad someday. If I could only get him to remember to feed the Betta. Too late! Bird died yesterday, but it wasn’t starvation. I was tending to that. He had some sort of growth that prompted me to warn Ford (yesterday! whew) that the fish may not live the rest of the week. Bye, Bird. Thanks for contributing 4 months of exotic flare to our dining room, and for freaking out about the Le Creuset Flameware (it was just a pot!) We will miss you.

Trippy, huh? Bright red is a hard color for me to photograph. All the iPhoto tools in the world can’t help this out. I’d take a better picture than this silly one if I hadn’t already given this to my mom. It’s her Holiday Celebapron. More here.

I don’t pretend this is a craft blog, but to mark my time on this planet I have to log the hours I spent making these little wee people into the wee hours preceding Christmas. Behold, Ivy Elizabeth Walker, cloaked in the safe color of mustard and in the forbidden woods with her bag of magic rocks! (Reference to the movie “The Village”)

And here are a grandmother and her grandchildren, open for interpretation; I’ve been using them to play Hansel and Grethel:

And lastly, Grandma fairy, made in the likeness of my mother-in-law (and who she forgot to take back home with her):

Ford doesn’t want to wear this adorable hat made in Noro Kureyon chunky, a pattern from Hello Yarn. It was so easy and quick to knit that I’m going to make more. The pom poms seemed excessive, especially for a boy. Maybe a braided tassle might be fun?