When Things Don’t Go To Plan

Most of the time I write about successful craft projects on this blog. Today I’m not doing that. Today, I’m going to talk about a recent near-total failure.

I had an idea for a lino print Yule card, which I hoped would be quick and simple given my lack of available time this autumn. Since I have decided not to show it, given how things last forever on the internet and can become separated from the explanatory text, I’ll simply say that it was a very cute snowman with stick arms, coal for eyes, mouth and buttons, a stripy scarf, a carrot for a nose, and a robin sitting on the top of his old-fashioned hat. Unfortunately it didn’t work. I attempted to wash and recut the lino four times to improve it, but after the fourth attempt still wasn’t satisfactory, I finally gave up and had to accept that my efforts were simply not good enough.

Most sewing projects can be rescued. I usually persevere until I have got items at least wearable, preferably loved and well fitting. Yes I have resewn pieces, and occasionally even recut small parts if I have sufficient fabric and know it will then fit right. But when something has to be cut, like lino, or wood, or glass, or even some sewing aspects, I can’t undo and try again.

So I had a choice – to start completely afresh, or give up and buy cards this year. Time was already tight, sooo tempting! Not only that, but as I felt the design was fundamentally flawed, I needed a completely new approach which is sometimes hard to do under pressure.

However, I have learned more from this one disaster than all the previous prints I have made, about the fundamental character of lino and what is or is not possible. For example, leaving only small areas of ink means it slips on the paper – fine on a rubber stamp, or even a woodblock in a fixed press, but not for basic hand printing. Second, lino curls, and so unless it is mounted on a block and the roller held absolutely level, the ink is always going to touch the edges as you roll around the curves. And cutting the blank edges off is no good for then picking the piece up cleanly to place on the paper!

After quite a bit of thought, I somehow came up with another design. It has proved hard to light a fire in our new woodland, because the damp has been relentless and it is too young for much dead wood yet; green sycamore doesn’t make great kindling! My mind brought together these two failures to create some Yule magic. One working a spell for the other, as it were. I ask myself, can two failures make a success? I’ll post the final result at Yule…

Edges

Edging is usually a low priority for me in the garden – but higher for my kind husband who does the grass cutting! The last time any borders got edged was probably when I put the pond in and turned most of the lawn into flowerbeds a few years ago. At the same time, some new paths were added which never had edges at all while they established themselves. Now it is time for me to decide which bits of grass count as path, and which have to be reclassified as weeds.

It is not a job I am particularly comfortable with. Easy enough physically: stand vertically, push the half moon into the soil with a foot, use foot to protect new edge and lever soil away, let soil fall higher into the flower bed, and repeat many times over. Then go back and weed all the bits of unwanted grass, dandelions, daisies, primulas, phlomis and everything else I have chopped out so that they may be composted and returned to the garden in due course. However, I find it strange looking out to see crisp, sharp edges. The boundaries between wild and mown strictly delineated. The flowers will spill over wherever they please later in the season, but for now they are contained within their spaces.

I consider how I am not a person who likes to compartmentalise my life. When I did, I was two people, neither of which were the complete ‘me’. I cannot divide myself like that. Nor do I always stay behind recognised boundaries. To be a witch is always crossing borders, physical or on other planes. Being not on the outside looking in, but frequently on the edges, almost part of things but with a foot in both worlds. I cannot shut nature out, it is part of me and I like to keep the boundaries blurred.

Animals, too, like transition zones. Wavy, soft edges give them a much greater choice of habitat as they combine the search for food with the need for some warming sun or protection from predators. These tend to be from mown to unmown areas, not from grass to flowers, but I worry that I have created an obstacle that they didn’t have before.

The alternative would of course be a wildflower meadow; grass covering the whole and growing between plants that are happy in that environment. Yet this still needs management to be successful and avoid a monoculture. Unless it is grazed, or cut yearly as hay meadows were, trees will eventually take over. And the wildlife supported would be far lower than the range currently found in my ‘cottage’ style garden.

I am reminded that the job of the gardener is to make these decisions. To decide for each plant where its boundaries should be and set limits. To create a design and hold it in my mind as a picture I want to make. So I carry on, following the natural shapes as far as I can.

Then I look down on my work from the upstairs window. While all the paths I simply re-edged are fine, I really don’t like the newly shaped path at all! What was I thinking? Finding my plans, I realise how far out some of my other edges are from what is drawn on paper. I wait for a day or two, hoping it will somehow look better; it doesn’t.

Two days later I have had time to work out what needs to be done. I find our long building rope, and lay it over the edges, moving it to where I think the path should go. I check again from upstairs, then find my edging moon again. Suddenly I am enjoying myself, being creative, making a shape that is graceful to look at and easy to walk (and to mow). Harmony restored. Even better, it has created extra space for flowers – which will flop over the grass in due course, returning the edges to their blurred state.

Getting the line of the path, and being covered with blossom at the same time.

Rudbeckia

Rudbeckia glass door

Rudbeckia glass door

I am feeling excited this week because my glass work bench has come out of storage and been re-erected for the first time since M was born. Even before I get a chance to use it, the very fact of its being there again gives me hope.

I love working with glass. Designing it, cutting the glass, fitting the lead around each piece, soldering, even cementing the panel to make it waterproof is a process I have come to enjoy doing and take my time over. Little has changed in the manufacture of a stained glass panel since Mediaeval times, as most of the tools are fairly basic. The richness of the colours in the glass still come from natural metal oxides, and even when not made by hand, it still sings when light comes through it.

My first task will be to draw out full size cartoons for our front door, as first mentioned back in April. I also have another door design and a window to draw out; these I should be able to do with M having her own pencil and paper set up next to me. Then early next year I will source supplies, put my order in and start cutting glass – for an hour a day when supervision is available!

Meanwhile here is a previous project I wanted to share. It was created for my neighbour, who after she had her Edwardian 4-panel doors stripped down, discovered that one of them had hardboard in the upper panels instead of wood. Apologies for the slightly flat image – I have some learning to do to get good pictures of glass!

I was also thinking about Rudbeckia flowers, known as Black Eyed Susan, because there are some still in flower in a garden where we walk regularly. They look stunning, the deep yellow feeling autumnal and yet at the same time happy. A last hurrah before brown, dead seedheads take over. Colour therapy at its best. Rudbeckia has the same healing properties as the distantly related purple coneflower, the Echinacea, yet is apparently more effective. It certainly grows stronger and healthier – Echinacea is to me one of the great gardening disappointments since it looks stunning in photos but experience has taught me that it doesn’t grow well around here. Even the books describe it as a short-lived perennial. But the Rudbeckia just grows and smiles.