Wednesday, December 22, 2010
I confess, I wasn’t feeling Christmassy. An accumulated decade of European Christmases has spoiled me with the smells of mulled wine and clementines and roasting chestnuts. My first white Christmas, my first-ever experience of snow, was spent with a gorgeous Dutch pal and I can still remember the sound of it: such a breathtaking quiet. An early morning still, splintered by squeals of pure, exhilarated, snowballed delight.
Yesterday, I was one of those first determined souls at a shopping centre purchasing Christmassy music and since then, Bing and Doris and Frank and the Myrtleandeunice’s have been serenading the long-suffering neighbours, singing about white Christmases in far off lands.
The Middle explained to the youngest, the story of the birth of Jesus, while all three kids selected fabrics for their Christmas stockings. The youngest was so inspired by the Middle’s story, she was prompted to use fabric pens to draw a crowd of people at the cinema.
By the time we’d belted out Good King Wenceslas, this Mum had decided she’d bitten off more than she could sew but hung in there through dodgy machine tension and three broken needles and considered putting a real sewing machine on her Christmas list. Then decided, actually, she really just wants to knit.
All three stockings were prompted and loosely based on Denyse Schmidt’s free pattern. They were easy peasy to throw together but with three barracking kids, I was keen to finish. The quality of workmanship is, frankly, appalling. At one point I was standing up and sewing in order to achieve simultaneous bias binding production. Yep, you read that correctly. Only once have I achieved a more impressive multi-tasking feat, back in the days of breastfeeding.
This morning I woke to this sort of scene.
Turns out the quilted stockings make a wonderful half alternative to a pair of slippers.
And don’t you just love it when you gift a pressie that is so, so right? Don’t you just love it when you receive one? It’s tricky to photograph, but it’s one of Kirst’s brilliant baubles. Mine contains a tiny screenprinting squeegee made from felt. The ink is red, there are printed ‘t’s. He he he.
I’m off to mull some wine, to wrap a few pressies, to sing with Bing, plot our part of a feast, go take a peek at some Christmas lights and grin at the countdowns and excitement. I’m going to inhale it all and love that a Christmas downunder means family and backyard cricket and summer evenings and barbecues and the sound of cicadas. Because that’s what I missed when I lived in wintry Europe.
To all you lovelies who pop by for a visit, to those of you who let me know what you think, who make me laugh (and sometimes weep), to the kindred spirits who so unexpectedly have become my friends – to all of you – I wish you a safe holiday season, filled with every kind of joy and fabulous.