Hydrangeas

So today is the day I started the quilt.

The last week has been taken up with work, (an audit that decided it was happening sooner rather than later), and I have been so tired each night that I didn't have the energy to do anything except pass out.  That's over now and although it was hectic it did teach me one thing.  I don't live to work, I work to live.
This morning I finally managed to cut the squares from the embroidery material and use my new fabric pencil to trace out the first designs.

I chose hydrangeas the other day and it has just dawned on me the significance of starting this one today.  Hydrangeas remind me of Dad and my Nana.  Yesterday was the anniversary of Dad's death, 18 years ago.  The word 'anniversary' always conjures up images of celebrations in my mind.  Dad's death is anything but worthy of celebrating.  I miss him terribly  - still, after all these years.  They say it gets easier as time goes by but I find that very hard to believe.

Next week Nana would have been 103.  Her birthday, May 12th, always fell on or near Mothers Day and so we would always have a double celebration.  Nana has been gone 9 years now too and I also miss her terribly too.  Nana was the most influential female figure in my life and also, my closest ally in everything I ever decided to do.

When I was a child, going to Nana's house was so exciting.  She had a large garden circling her house and it was always an adventure to go into it by myself and explore.  She could obviously see where I was from every vantage point, but to me, it seemed like I was out in the wilds, exploring territories unknown, finding treasures that I was just certain she had never seen before.  There were two parts of her garden that I particularly loved - her strawberry bed where I was allowed to sit and eat every strawberry I could find, and her back steps.

Her back steps were a pyramid shape, 4 steps going up to a landing, 4 steps going back down on the other side.  Right below the landing, along the length of the steps were the most vivid, biggest-in-the-entire-universe, blue hydrangeas.  They were magical flowers to me.  I didn't know of any other blue flowers and I always thought that she had magical powers to turn flowers blue when no-one else in the world could ever do that.

At home, our soil was totally different.  We had hydrangeas too but they were always pink.  When we moved house when I was 13, Mum planted more hydrangeas along the side of the garage and again, they were pink.  Mum eventually found out that if you changed the soil mix you could get blue flower heads on them, so, ever the inventive one, she set Dad to work, widdling on them every night.

I don't know what he ate but after quite a long time, it started to work and we had hydrangeas going from pink, to mauve, to blue.  I never wanted to spoil the thought that Nana was magical with her beautiful blue flowers, and the thought that she might have been out there emptying the chamber pot on them each night was just too much to bear, so I stuck with my fantasies for as long as I could.

I've now moved into the mountains and I have hydrangeas in my garden too, and they are blue.  This year they really don't know what season it is and they are still flowering now, in May.  Hydrangeas shouldn't flower now, they have their season around Xmas and then the heat of January burns them to a crisp.  Not this year, we've had such a long wet cold summer that they are still out there, albeit a bit straggly, but out there in various shades of blue, like the magical flower they are.

Starting the embroidery brought back those memories - the sights, the smells, in fact, I can even remember the feeling of the cold dampness of climbing up those back steps at Nana's house.

I followed Ann Sommerlad's direction and used 6 strands of thread.  I chose the new variegated mauve / blue thread I bought last week.  Ann suggested colonial or french knots for the stitch but  chose to do a 2 round bullion knot because I'm so used to doing them that it was just second nature.

 I'm glad I did because the stitches are raised on the fabric and it gives a real old world feel to it all.

There is something that I can remember as a little child but I can't quite reach back far enough into my brain to pull it out and explain it.  I remember running my fingers over something that was raised and thick like this and I know I thought it was beautiful.  It may have been a pillow, or an embroidered placemat or doily but I can't remember what it was.

Running my fingers over the small bit I have done on the hydrangeas gives me that same feeling again.  I hope this quilt lasts long enough for the grandkids to be able to feel that too and remember it in their adult lives.

So I've just popped in here to write all of this down before I forget it.

I'm sitting in my new back room looking out the window as I stitch and I'm seeing all the leaves turning into a real tapestry of colour in the backyard.

Very nice.
Very peaceful.

Very as Sunday should be.