thinking – eternal magpie

One of the things I’ve been thinking about recently is my hats, and where they’re going.

Before Christmas, they were really well-received at a local craft fair. Even the feedback from people who made sure to tell us that they were definitely not going to buy a hat was overwhelmingly positive! Buoyed by this result, after Christmas I signed myself up to go to a wedding fair, and made some more “weddingy” hats to display.

I was really pleased with the designs I’d come up with, but it quickly transpired that they weren’t going to be anywhere near as well received as the cloches. Time to think again.

I think what I’d overlooked, in the mad rush to make plenty of stock for Christmas and the wedding fair, was that these hats were always supposed to be a means to an end – a stepping stone to learn the skills, so I could then move on to a different kind of hat. I became so bogged down in what I thought I could sell, that I forgot all about what I had originally been trying to create.

I’ve learnt a lot from the hats I’ve made so far, and I’ve really enjoyed working with organic cotton lace and beautiful wool felt. These headbands, for example, will definitely be staying around. I’ve also realised that the reason I’ve been so quiet on the blog for so long is that I simply don’t feel comfortable writing a post whose sole purpose is to try and sell you something. Which, to be honest, is all I’ve been trying to do for the past year. I mean, yes, of course I need to sell the hats once I’ve made them, otherwise I’m just filling my work room with stuff! But I’d much rather share a thought or explain a process than just try to sell a hat.

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What I’d originally intended to make was a series of freeform hats like this, from handmade felt. I also wanted to use handmade felt to make traditionally-formed hats, such as my favourite cloche shape shown above. Unfortunately, the fibromyalgia’s been so bad this year that I haven’t had the strength required to make the quality and thickness of felt necessary for this type of hat. However, at the Christmas craft fair I did have quite a long chat with a local felting expert who was quite critical of my pieces (at my request), and gave me quite a few tips for techniques and tools that I might find helpful.

I have to admit that I have absolutely loved almost every single hat that I’ve made so far. The learning curve has been an enjoyable one, and the materials are extremely satisfying to work with. Just for now though, it’s time to take a little break, have a little think, and work out what to do next.

My mind’s been full of bees, lately.

Busy. Buzzy. Noisy. Distracted.

The only thing for it was to go for a walk.

I borrowed Paul’s little Lumix camera, and made my way down to Oldpond Copse, the piece of woodland next to our old house. I’ve missed coming here.

It’s not far away – just a 15 minute walk from the new place – but that seems a lot, compared with being able to step out of the old house and be in a little field almost immediately. We do have a huge garden now, but that’s nowhere close to being the sanctuary I need it to be. We have a park too, but it’s small and surrounded by houses. I knew I missed the lake, but I hadn’t quite realised how much I needed this little patch of trees.

This is where we had our engagement photos taken. I think the photographer was a bit surprised when we took him to a gap in the hedge and led him down the steps, but the photos he took that day are the nicest ones we have. (Nicer than the wedding photos, even.)

I love the way that you can really feel alone here. Despite the dog-walkers, local walking club, “Erlegh Elfins” kindergarten, fishermen at the lake, and the countless other people that use this space, it’s a really good spot to go for thinking. Listening. Watching the birds and the squirrels. Getting to know the trees. Really looking, to see how it’s changed since you were last there.

The little stream was slow and shallow today. I was able to climb across it to capture this little feather. All of an inch deep, the water could barely be bothered to move.

I love all of the different elements in this one, all mixed up together. The earth underneath the water. The sky reflected below the feather. Everything slow, and gentle.

Even though I know that these steps lead up to a sports field, the light at the top always seems to make them feel magical. As though you could climb up, and come out in a different place every time. I can’t remember what the sign says, probably something about keeping your dog on a lead (which nobody does), or not riding your bike through the woodland. I like to think it says “Narnia” or “Wall” or maybe “Keep Out”, depending on who’s looking at it.

This was the only fungus I managed to capture in focus, but there were plenty of them around. There was a huge great chicken of the woods, sadly trampled underfoot, and lots of things I didn’t recognise – including this. It looks so beautiful on the trunk of this dead silver birch tree, as though it couldn’t possibly have grown anywhere but here.

The lake was busy with people today, so I didn’t stop for long. Just long enough to notice the fluffiest feather I think I’ve ever seen.

On my way back through the Real World, I noticed a stunning garden filled to bursting with dahlias – an absolute shock of colour in an otherwise nowhere street. I popped into the local shop on the way past (soon to be usurped by a horrible new Tesco that’s taking up residence in what used to be the local pub), and bought a knitting magazine full of potential Christmas gifts. I think that might take up the rest of my day now. A bit of laundry, a bit of cleaning, and a lot of knitting, to try and keep my head in the space that the copse has cleared for it.

Tag: thinking

Thinking about hats

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Walk in the woods.

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