I like rainy Sundays. The minute I hear the patter of rain against the window and sense the grayness of the morning light, I know I am in for a good day.
I linger over breakfast, taking time to fix something special — popovers, French toast or an omelet, with a pot of Constant Comment tea. As I eat, I think about the sewing project I will indulge in after I put my house to rights.
It’s never difficult to decide what to sew. All I have to do is cast my eye upon my stash of fabric, select what appeals to me and grab a pattern from those I have accumulated.
I find it easy to collect patterns. I buy them only when they are on sale for $1.99 or less, when I buy as many as five at a time. I tend to buy designs in the “classic” category, things that won’t be out of style next season or, indeed, ever. This includes dresses, coats, skirts, pants and shirts. I like to sew with patterns that are uncomplicated — I don’t like tabs, belt loops, cascading ruffles and garments made of too much draped material.
I have far too many patterns, and chances are I won’t use half of them, but I have learned not to throw any away — the minute I do, that will be the one I want two weeks later. I have, however, disposed of many patterns in the 45 years I have been sewing. I wish I hadn’t. I would like to look back through them, to have that kind of visual record of my sewing life.
I sew at the kitchen table where the light comes flooding in through four south-facing windows, an east window and the panes of the door, also facing south. I cut out patterns on the table where I just ate my breakfast, and it’s where I set up my sewing machine after the cutting is done.
On this Sunday morning, I sewed for an hour, perhaps a little more, and while engaged with stitch lengths, seam allowances and pinking shears, I thought about what I was going to cook when I got tired of sewing.
This particular Sunday was an especially rainy day — a hurricane was expected. I was elated. Wind, rain — bring it on, I thought gleefully. Well, the big storm didn’t happen, but a storm of cooking happened in my kitchen. I stirred up chicken soup, date bars and molasses oatmeal bread.
That day, I also finished making a pair of lined wool slacks in brown and black tweed. The fabric is vintage, probably from the 1960s, found at a yard sale in the summer.
I don’t know what it is about combining bread baking with seam stitching that makes me feel happy and productive in an effortless way. I am feeding and clothing myself. How self-sufficient is that?
But cooking and sewing have never been about self-sufficiency for me; they have been about the process of choosing — patterns, fabrics, buttons, recipes, flavorings, bowls, pans — the ingredients of personal creativity, of making something from scratch, by hand, of cooking a life, of stitching my days.
After I had good things rising in bowls or baking in the oven, I went back to the sewing machine to finish the small tasks of completing the slacks — hemming, sewing on hook-and-eye fasteners, and sewing a line of silk hand stitching along the edge of the inseam pockets.
Later, the bread got punched down and shaped into loaves. The date bars were removed from the oven and set to cool. The chicken soup bubbled on the back of the stove. My house filled up with the good smells of food cooking.
A section of the floor was littered with snippets of thread and fabric I whisked into a dustpan and tossed into the garbage can with a happy “There, by gorry” attitude.
True, there was a pile of dishes to wash, but even that was no chore. I like washing dishes. It’s nothing more than playing in the water. How fun is that? Quite a bit, actually.
Then came the satisfaction of looking around and seeing the fruits of my labor — well, not really labor.
It was a good way to spend a rainy day.
Snippets
— Local knitters will find a lineup of many knitting classes at Fiberphilia in Orono. Call 866-3423 for more information or visit www.fiberphilia.com.
— An item in the Sept. 20 issue of The Christian Science Monitor contained an article by Nathalie Rothschild who reported that guerrilla knitters in Stockholm, Sweden, were planning to decorate lampposts, park benches, trees and other public things with stuff they had knit, some of them containing political messages, an activity referred to as “knitting graffiti.”
— Fiber Maine-ia will take place 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 10, 9 a.m.-4 p.m. Sunday, Oct. 11, at the Memorial Union, University of Maine in Orono. Look for vendors, displays and exhibits of all things fiber. To learn how to be a vendor at the event, visit http://extension.umaine.edu/fibermaine-ia/conference.htm.
— The Page Farm and Home Museum at the University of Maine is seeking vendors for its Holiday Shoppe event set for Saturday, Dec. 5. For more information, call Patricia Henner at 581-4100.
— Librarian Christy Coombs is seeking those who would like to demonstrate their fiber arts skills at the Bangor Public Library’s annual Fiber Arts Exhibition to be held 9 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 10, at the library. For more information, call the library at 947-8336.
— Rug hooker Ken Carpenter has opened a store, Maine Hooked Rugs, in Brooklin. The store offers rugs hooked by Carpenter and other rug artists, hand-dyed wool and rug-hooking supplies. For more information, call 359-2822 or 359-9878.