Snippers

Lucky me. I got to attend a sweater-altering workshop with Sharon Kallis. She showed us how to work with real wool sweaters that have shrunk and/or been damaged. Sharon calls these sweaters "snippers."

Lucky Us. It was somebody's birthday and we got to eat cake.


I tried to work with this rainbow scarf, and ended up using it as a layer underneath some cut work.


Sharon is a pro at this. Look at her cute little shrug.


Here we are, the nutty sweater ladies! This week and next Sharon is giving the same workshop and it is free. Contact the Coal Harbor Community Centre for details.

Radio Silence

These photos were taken November 10th as I walked to picked Ullie up from school. That morning, I had attended the Remembrance Day assembly, which was very moving. The principal explained the basic Canadian Remembrance day traditions--singing the anthem while facing the flag, two minutes of silence to remember the dead, the reading of "On Flander's Fields", and the playing of "Taps" on the bugle. Every child and teacher in the school wore a poppy, some of them hand-made.

So when I asked Ullie to stop for the two minutes of silence on Nov. 11, he knew just what to do and why. He was having a playdate with a friend and ironically, they were playing a game called World of Warcraft. I stopped too. I stood downstairs and listened to the radio silence on CBC 1. I was struck at how CBC radio unites us as a country. Even though it was a rebroadcast because of the differences in the time zones, I felt connected to the other provinces where similar ceremonies were happening in towns and cities all accross Canada. In that silence, I thought of the sheer number of war victims around the world and the people in Afghanistan who are suffering right now.

Simple traditions. Even the kindergarten class learns about "what the poppies say." It's good to learn about what silence says as well.

A Seedy Tea Party

This Sunday Sharon Kallis, artist in residence at the Coal Harbor Community Centre held a women's intergenerational tea party. It was incredibly beautiful and inspiring. We ate scones and cookies and created an ephemeral table cloth out of seeds, leaves, and petals from the neighborhood. Check out Sharon's photos here.

November Dusk

I did some delicate puttering in the garden today--picking the last of the scarlet runner beans, and propping up the radish pods in hopes that the sun will come out to dry them. It has been raining solid for a few days, so we enjoy any short respites we get. I brought in a few fennel seed umbrels that were ripe and sopping wet. The marigolds are too sodden to reclaim.

The light fades too fast. I thought I must go in and get my camera and the next thing you know there's barely enough light to take the photos. Dusk is a challenge to capture in photographs, but it's a good project to work on in November.

Remember, Remember

The fourth of November. I knew it would be a historical day if Obama won, and as it happens he did. I'm one of the many people who shed quiet tears of joy. There's a lot of remembering going on at this time of the year-- All Soul's Day, All Saint's Day, The Gunpowder Plot, Rememberance Day, and my dad's birthday. I sent him off a package the other day with some photos, articles about UBC Farm and a silly disguise that's meant to make in look like Inspector Poirot. He was doubtful that the United States was ready to elect Obama. I'm glad he was proven wrong. It's wonderful to see black men from the US that are my father's age shaking their heads, smiling, and saying, "In my lifetime. The things I have seen in my lifetime."

There is one last living survivor of the Titanic. The last WWII vets are dying. As the bodies who hold these memories pass on we are responsible for collecting the seeds of their wisdom. I've been thinking a lot about the culture of family. As parents we are responsible for creating memorable events that create a culture of trust, peace, and respect. I wish my dad was here right now so he could talk to his grandson about what WWII meant to him. He was too young to fight in that war--thank goodness-- and my grandfather was a German immigrant. He fled to Canada to avoid being drafted into the war. It's a long story and I don't really know how to tell it, but I am going to be sure my dad writes in all down so we can remember, and in the remembering engender peace and tolerance in this world.

Obama, we love you!!!!!!