Nesting

While some upper respiratory meany pants wreaks havoc here at Mole Manor, I've been nestled into a deep corner of the couch with tissues and tea pot within easy reach. With the Sunday NPR lineup for company yesterday, I hand stitched this pot holder / trivet. It consists of reclaimed cotton denim sandwiched around a square of felted wool from an old sweater. I attempted to machine stitch the self-bound edge, but halfway through something snagged and made a mess of it along the remaining two edges. I left it as is and simply camouflaged the mess with backstitching.

When I first learned embroidery as a child, I took great care (and pride) in making perfect stitches. Lately, more and more, I have come to prefer imperfection. I find the fallible marks that distinguish handmade from machine mass-production charming. I like it when the hand of the maker, whether it be mine or someone else's, is evident in the final product. There's appeal in humble and simple hand stitching. Each stitch is special in that it embodies care, marks time, and contains intent.