When I was in grade school we learned how to write a Haiku, and I still remember that assignment like it was yesterday. The teacher taught us about syllables by clapping her hands as she pronounced each syllable in a word. We all joined in reading aloud and clapping together. Then we wrote a Haiku printed in our best penmanship and made a special cover out of colored construction paper that was decorated with blobs of paint blown across the paper with a straw. Remember doing that? This resulted in not only getting dizzy, but being sprayed with paint by your nearest classmate. Usually it was a boy doing the spraying, as they could never contain themselves while brandishing such delightful weapons as straws and paint. I remember my cover paper was pink, and my paint blobs and sprays looked like tree branches filled with blossoms. My mom saved it, and I was quite proud.
I loved that assignment because it combined the mechanics of writing, with art and creativity (Thank you Mrs. Rhiehorst, wherever you are.) It's what I like about quilting and crocheting too. You follow a pattern, measure, and count stitches (mechanics), and choose colors and textures with fabric or yarn and embellish a pattern to make it your own (art and creativity).
Anyway, I have no idea where I'm going with this, but I can tell already that this shawl is going to be pretty, especially if I block the haiku out of it. Maybe I'll give it to my mom. She'll be so proud.
The roses are from my yard, I can't seem to cut them fast enough. The fabric was a sale purchase at Joann's, justified by the 5 projects I made this year out of my scrap bin (two more are in the works).
The quilt blocks are going to be a family gift. So far the plan is to make 64 blocks, resulting in a wall hanging about 45x45, to be hung in my living room. When we all get together this Thanksgiving, everyone will sign their name on a block. Each time we add a new family member through marriage or birth, they sign a block. Like a family tree quilt! Then, maybe the quilt can "travel" to different homes of family members, stay for the year, then get passed along to someone different every Thanksgiving. I told my daughter, that when I'm gone, someone has to keep the quilt "alive" until all the blocks are filled up.
She said that when I go, she goes, like an Egyptian tomb kind of thing. I laughed and said just don't bury the quilt.