There is nothing common about you!

A little drawing inspired by the not so common sparrow, these days. I love there funny little song a chirp,chweet, chrrup and a chirrup. Beautiful!

a few stitches later

You start with one stitch then a few thousand later you have the beginnings of a new set of designs to be launched in August so here is a sneak peek. To see more visit my patchworkbutterfly facebook page or follow my world via twitter

dilly dally

I have just been out in the garden in the pouring rain, to pick the lavender. The flowers still think its summer even if we don't. Picking the lavender always reminds me of that little rhyme I learnt as a child, Lavender blue dilly dilly, the thing is we have always said dilly dally past on by me by my Great grandma. So its stuck!  I can remember being at her house one summer, bunching up the lavender, whilst watching the wrestling, eating bon bons, learning the rhyme what a heady mix.

Thursday's inbox, Friday's outbox. Hopefully!

Thursday's inbox looks like Everest, if I work hard keep my mind on the job rather than the many distractions ahead of me, I may just make it to the other side of Friday's outbox! All work makes me very dull.

a bit blue

My first hydrangea of the year has bloomed. I love them simply because my Nang (grandma) loves them so much and over the years her love for them has become infectious. I will always remember planting new ones with her as a child, adding along with the soil just the right amount of measured out rusty nails to achieve her perfect blue. She always throws in an extra one for luck. Her little garden now, is still full of them, all blue and very much enjoyed!

dreaming of sleep

I have long been fascinated at the point where sleep happens. That moment when reality slips away into another place, a place of sleep, that wonderful place where the dream-time happens. A place where you are whisked off into other worlds, where you stand at the top of high towers or the ever reoccurring dream where the tap starts dripping the river starts rising or the sea engulfs you, at the point where you might just drown, then you wake and realize it has been another night where you drowned in your dreams. Tell me, why is it that in those beautiful dreams, that you don't want to wake from, you wake at the crucial moment and the dream has gone and as hard as you might you cannot go back in to the book-marked place where you woke. I am not disclosing those dreams!

 I have sketchbooks full of people sleeping, friends, loves, people on streets, I am fascinated by the moment that we let go and sleep overtakes us and we are vulnerable and free to travel anywhere with anybody and do anything.

kiss me swiftly

I found this beautiful chair with the most horrible years and years of  brown varnish in a junk/treasure shop.  I have stripped it, painted it, re -upholstered it and hand stitched a design from one of my drawings. I am just finishing the last hand stitching bits, where all my pins are. Hopefully it will all turn out ok!