Good therapy

I can’t remember the last time I stitched, but fortunately my fingers haven’t forgotten what to do.

P’s 3rd Birthday is coming up, so Don and I decided to refurbish the doll house that his dad made for our girls 30-some years ago …

It was one of granddaughter Logan’s favorite playthings in her preschool days and we had much fun picking out new furnishings for her. One decade later, they still look like new …

Over the past several years, our three grandsons called the dollhouse a “barn,” given its rustic red coloring. But this past Christmas our girls opined that it was looking a tad bit outdated compared to this nifty dollhouse remodel in Young House Love.

So noted. We put our heads together and came up with a similar monochromatic color scheme. Yesterday Don painted the roof slate gray and we ordered some light gray paint for the exterior.

Today we turned our eyes to the furniture, deciding on a soft ballet pink for the the bedroom. While Don painted, I stitched a miniature quilt to match the coverlet I made for Parker’s big-girl bed last year …

I think she’ll see the resemblance …

and I’m pretty sure she’ll recognize the new family, too …

Stitching a prayer

I asked crown princess Parker if she would like a hand stitched into the back of her coverlet … Nana’s hand to hold her close. And “Yes,” she said, yes she would.

So I stitched and thought. I used to call it “walking a prayer” … letting my mind wander as I combed along the edge of the sea … letting thoughts come and go, come and go …

Today, though, I stitched a prayer … each stitch a step … and as Deb’s magical threads made their way through muslin backing and gauze lining, the colors rolled up before my eyes … blue and green and grey they be, colors of the ancient sea … over and over and over …

Until each stitch became a part of a line … and the line became a part of me …

I thought how each stitch might be a letter, each letter a part of a word, each word a part of a thought …

And still I stitched … my needle juddering side to side, leaving a trail of stitches in its wake, ofttimes eschewing the preordained path …

and I wondered, “Judder? Is that really a word?” … and “Yes, yes it is,” replied m-w.com … but where did it come from and how did I know it?

So many thoughts rolled through my mind … and music Wave on Wave … Jude’s thoughts of waves becoming my own …

Until at last the line petered out … and I wondered, “is that right … does one’s little finger really stand away like that?”

And Ellis replied …

Yes, yes it does.

– – – – – – –

Coda: I’m still very new to quilting, so it remains to be seen how the cloth will respond to having split backstitching on the a-side going into the middle and more split backstitching on the b-side going into the middle …

Of course, every so often a stray stitch makes its way through from one side to the other …

Likely as it was meant to …

Edge-y

P’s coverlet made it safely through the washer and dryer. Now a carefully saved bit of Deb Lacativa’s dyed thread is finishing it off …

As Grace suggested, and as Jude has often counseled, the stitched words are buried in the double-gauze middle so they don’t show on the front …

The edge is composed of softly fringed layers, the better to soothe P to sleep in her new big girl bed.

And really, it’s not done done. I will continue to embellish front and back …

Playing off the motifs from Parker’s outgrown baby clothes …

or stitching secret words on the back … whatever they may be.

P.S. The post title also refers to our current state of limbo as we hope a possible offer on our house comes through in time to secure a contract on a house we hope to move to.