This takes every morsel of my concentration and determination, every ounce of my courage and fortitude. When it comes to that branch of the domestic arts and sciences that has to do with fashion, fabric, needles and thread, I have little more than rudimentary skills and even less desire. But I do have a sewing machine, a 25+ year old Kenmore that was bought when money was scarce and babies needed flannelette blankets, clothing repairs and rooms needed rod-pocket curtains. If it’s a straight line with a straight stitch I can usually accomplish it, but only after spending a minimum of 30 minutes making friends with machine again, figuring out how to load a bobbin and place it in the bobbin case, prepare the needle and top thread, then picking up the bobbin thread. Phew! And my palms begin to sweat just hoisting the machine out of the closet.
After putting off the task as long as possible the day comes when I must tackle the sewing job and today is the day. Actually yesterday was the day, but the thread I pulled from my late mother-in-law’s sewing box was so old – I think it was one she brought here when she came to Canada in 1953 – that once set up in the machine it broke every few inches of stitching. So off I went to the shops this morning to buy new thread. Now I’m ready, again. The pant legs are pressed and hems pinned, the bobbin is in place and I’ve managed to thread the top needle – only swearing twice – and now the top and bottom threads stretch out behind the gleaming needle. My clammy hands flutter over the stretchy fabric while my right foot hovers over the presser foot…
Shhhhhh…April is sewing.
What? You want pictures?! Oh I think not! Well not about sewing anyway.
Here’s a few from this weekend’s celebration of a true master of the art of living – my Aunt Elaine who turned 90 on Saturday.
|Some of Aunt Elaine's Watercolours|
©2014 April Hoeller