There's been a flurry of spring sewing around here, and it isn't just me. All hands are on deck in the studio these days as the whirlwind of cutting, measuring, pinning and stitching is done by one and all. Sometimes resulting in finished things, but usually heavy on the cutting, measuring, pinning and stretching. It's all about the process, of course.
My Adelaide has recently reached the comfort level (mine and hers both) where she can do a bit of sewing entirely on her own. I have two sewing machines and a "studio" of sorts set up for the kids in the barn...but of course she prefers my studio and my machine. I don't blame her - I love that machine too. (Unfortunately, she doesn't share my love of a tidy workspace. Hmn. Maybe that comes with age?)
I love my kid's sewing - always perfectly suited to their needs and oh so very functional. Cat collars, cat leashes, and cat capes were all the rage this winter. Then there was a flurry of "pocket" sewing, whereby she made a stack of pockets to be pinned onto clothing which had none of their own. Functional fashion. Yes!
Most recently, she's been volunteering for the morning animal chore shift. One day, after watching her pracariously juggle the cup of grain for the sheep in one hand and a bucket of food for the chicken in the other, all while trying to wrangle the gate open....I saw her frustration at what she could carry at one time. There was a foot stomp with arms folded over her chest, followed by a march directly to the sewing machine. She came skipping out a short while later with this treasure on her shoulder. A grain bag, she announced. So that she had her hands free to do her work.
How's a Mama to stop herself from overflowing with pride? (I didn't even try.)
But I did follow her with a camera while she put it to use one afternoon recently. First stop was to the freshest pasture-clearing brush pile for a bit of poplar for her sheep. Did you know that poplar is a natural dewormer for sheep? We've just learned that. Can you identify a poplar? I can't, consistently anyway. She can, naturally. (Why stop the gushing pride now, I say.)
When a small trail of grain began following her, she realized her bag had a small leak coming from one of the corners. "Psh!" she laughed, "Backstitching!" remembering that she had forgotten to do just that. She scoured the ground for an appropriately sized stick to 'stuff' in the hole and walked on, bag 'fixed'.
Oh, these babies of mine. It is such an honor to watch them grow.