Catcher in the Rye*

I thought there was a limit, but apparently there's not.  Sewings skills can be used just about everywhere.

Bones, just the bare bones

My sister was lamenting the demise of the grass catcher for her push mower. She brought it over so I could commiserate with her.  Maybe a short memorial service would be appropriate, a prayer or something. My heart wasn't into sympathy or mourning, and I pulled the rest of the disintegrated fabric from the catcher skeleton. Horrors!  Now it was just bare, naked bones, and I'd shown and paid no respect at all.




The next day remorse set in, and the image of warming up my sewing machine loomed large.  Since I was headed out on an errand that took me right next to the fabric store, picking up the parts for this project was simple.

and ready to mow

Brand renewed

So with a sewing machine, a drill, a hammer, pliers, 1/2 yard of fabric (only this came from the fabric store), thread and a couple yards of wire, new life--a new "body"--was breathed back into the grass catcher.  Just never can tell what will be part of the Things I get to do today.  Be prepared.

*It was not really in the "Rye."  But "Catcher in the Sewing Room" doesn't have the same ring or name recognition.

Unzipped

I'd been putting it off.  A retired seamstress/dressmaker, I know what kind of fabrics give me pleasure in the handling and process of constructing a garment.  Supple, natural fibers that press nicely and release the fragrance of their origins delight me immensely.  Greenhouse fabric is woven plastic, stiff, unmoving except to slide around, and one would not ever press it.  The Things I get to do today must include having Handy Andy dressmaker  build one Big Mama Dress.

Vertical Garden* retrofit with shelves

Last fall one of the Vertical Garden frames I had built was modified to spend part of its yearly cycle as a greenhouse (see "Zippers and Studs" October 15, 2011).  The shelves are spaced for maximum solar benefit and, when the plant-baby season is over, can be removed to  allow growning-up plants a strong support.

"Fabric" 12' wide and 50' long--don't need that much

But the greenhouse comes first.  Out with the plans.  Remeasure the structure and check against plans. Unroll the fabric.  Measure.  Cut fronts (center and sides), sides and top/back. Install the zippers.  Cut vents.  No words are available to describe the sewing process except that it was way too close to a wrestling match.  No blood and no final bell, but I won--pinned that sucker to the mat (sewing machine) and ended up with the enclosing part of the greenhouse--though there was little satisfaction in the process.

How to get this over her "head"
Where is her head?

Amazingly, the "dress" fit the oddly built dame in the garden.

All snuggled up

All farmers know the basic rule "Make hay while the sun shines."  Get the structure up, then fill all the containers  with seeds eager to sprout and sing in the sunshine.

Unzipped to welcome the sun

Unzipped, the front rolled up, the south side provides a perfect setting for seed song.

Recycled lettuce tubs to be filled
with potting soil and seeds

*Vertical Gardening by Allen Fell, Rodale Press.

Pesky Pocket Parts

One button on.  One button under someone's dining table.
Pocket flaps in their usual, unsightly position.

I liked them so much I bought four pair. The price was excellent and, I must admit, contributed to my enthusiasm. But right off, there was trouble.  These nice cord jeans had non-functional back pockets.








Back pockets make a style statement. But Handy Andy, a.k.a. Practical Pat, wants to use the back pockets.  It there's a flap in the way--not so good.  If the flap is buttoned down, we're in for big trouble.  That's probably why the buttons started popping off.  A dining chair with an interesting back grabbed the first one.  Later as I passed through a tight doorway, another button went for a spin.  Finally, as a guest at Christmas dinner I sat down to the sound of a snap and a whir as another pocket button swirled across the floor. Everyone at the table wanted to help find it.  I was muttering "just get lost."

Off they come!

But finally the most useful project of the Things I get to do today was to remove  the rest of the flaps and buttons from that shipment of pants.  What I really learned from this experience is that while the flaps may have annoyed me and made the pockets useless, the buttons were hazardous as they scraped chairs and snared strands yarn on the inside of my sweaters.  Next time I'll settle in right away to remedy the situation--no waiting until damage is done.  By then there will be new blog material for recycled pocket flaps.

Flaps for sale

It took pliers and wire cutters to remove
the rest of the sweater-snagger buttons! 

Pot of Honey

Success is sweet, especially after a long effort.  Thirty years qualifies.  It wasn't hard work all those years--more like on-again, off-again with years of inattention in between.  But one day a person looks at a project and has to say, "What was I thinking to start this?  And how much more time do I want to put into it, if any?  And if I stop now, what happens to this that I've finished?"  Good questions.

I'm a big Winnie the Pooh fan.  In the 1970's I was in bliss with a yearly series of Pooh calendars published with all the marvelously charming Ernest H. Shephard decorations (no Disney for me).  I became inspired to make a quilt, the thought being to embroider a map of Hundred Acre Wood and 12 scenes from the Pooh books circling it.  I started stitching with the individual scenes--black thread on ivory broadcloth--to look just like the books.  Now some 30 years later, ten of the small pictures are done (three completed in the last two months).  When I looked at the huge map, I could feel my heart drain away--another 30 years?  I no longer wanted a quilt.  But what would I do with these ten dear sketches in black embroidery.  Sell them on ebay?  Frame them?  Ugh.


Then the thought came. The images would be used to decorate aprons.  The aprons could go as gifts to close friends and family who love Winnie the Pooh.  My mind's eye saw the exact fabric for the completed project.  The fabric store would have it.

Brown, black, cream yielded 3
handsome aprons

The process was anything but straightforward.  I wanted a bold stripe in black and ivory.   A store that claims to have a world-class selection had one yard (2 aprons) of what I needed.  Second best was a busier brown, black and cream (3 aprons).

Cute, but not going to work

Then there were several unsuccessful purchases.  I simply could not move forward with the remaining five.  When I sew, it is for my own pleasure only.  If I don't like the fabric or workmanship, it's a dead fish in any case (don't ask me the precise definition of that phrase).



Next trip yielded several yards of unbleached muslin.  Horrible--don't even need a picture of that.  Enough already!  Time to bite the thimble and drive to the far, far side of town to a real giant--Fabric Depot.  I could picture the exact yardage draped all over the store.

What I discovered was that polka dots are in this year.  Stripes are not.  But I needed only one bolt with about 3 yards on it--surely in the store with "the nation's largest fabric selection," one and a half acres of bolts to choose from, my stripe could be found. Right now one of the Things I get to do today is crisscross the length and width of the store several times, just hanging loose, waiting for the my fabric to jump out.  I was three threads away from picking out another disaster when I drifted off to the far corner where a stripe in bold black and white (not ivory) finally flagged me down.  Only a moment's hesitation before I knew I could take edge off that bright white.  Minutes later I was driving home with enough yardage to complete the final 5 aprons and a package of ecru dye.

One of the embroidered quilt "squares" 

Pooh visiting Piglet's house at the base of a big tree.

 Tonight I'm wrapping the completed aprons. It's funny that once I would no longer settle for inferior design and fabric, everything fell into place and it became a pleasure to do.  The nearly ancient project is finished with more-than-respectable results.  Thank's, Pooh, for the Adventure in which this grown up finds the honey pot and says it's time for a little something.  Sweet!