In praise of Round Robins

Not a fat little songbird , though sometimes they participate.

Round Robin is a group quilting practice. Each person makes a small start to a quilt project, swaps it with someone else and adds to what they received. It goes on, exchanging and adding, until everyone has worked on every project. The finished works - usually quite large - is given back to the person who started it.

Some groups have a "recipe" for what technique or design to use at each swap. Many groups keep the growing project secret from the originator, so there are wonderful surprises at the final handover.

It's a great experience to get you out of your comfort zone and face a regular design challenge.

A bunch of my friends are using this process to make quilts for the Mangere Women's Refuge.

The picture above is Cherry's Mariner's compass centre, I've added the deep orange framing triangles. I can't wait to see how this turns out- and to swap for my next challenge.

Memories for all time: #3, the first hour in Singapore

02-DEC-1978

It was a much longer plane flight than we were accustomed to. 12 hours! half a day from your life is a big deal at 9 years old. I don't remember being grumpy. I don't even remember my 5-year-old brother being grumpy. Probably best I don't ask my Mum for an adult recollection of the trip.

We were charmed by the care-package of strange fluffy socks, folding toothbrush, tiny tube of toothpaste.  We'd had a smoker in our home until the previous year - so the drift from the aeroplane's smoking section had a familiar comforting feel.

Mum had prepared us for moving to Singapore by teaching us to eat with chopsticks. Sliced banana in a bowl! No mere noodle, beansprout or shrimp was ever safe from us after that initiation. We were quite disappointed to discover there were forks...

So...finally the big plane lands. The doors open. A wave of soft warm moist air rolls almost visibly through the dry chill of the cabin. And the smell! A complex mixture of avgas and jungle - decaying leaves and waxy sweet perfumes dissolved in kerosene.

Down the stairs onto the warm tarmac in the sudden dark of tropical early evening. Bright lights haloed by the most Enormous flying insects, unable to dodge the tiny bats feasting among them. Strange faces and accents directing us onto the old-fashioned white bus, rattling off into the mysterious scented night....

What I did on February 1

There are three perfectly good posts I've written tonight, and they can all wait because I'd rather give you the truth in my heart right now

My overflowing joyous pain-clotted leaky heart

It's been one of those days with a lot in it. 

Beginning in easy harmony with a dear longtime friend -- doubting my own judgement -- walking hard up the high hill, alone and pleased to work hard -- smelling the scent of roses in the stone-terraced gardens -- friendly chat with strangers -- being cross with myself -- finding a good cup of coffee -- getting irritated with beloved people -- finding a tactful way to be alone -- watching Aotearoa slip by beneath the plane -- nurturing the seed of a plan to see more -- maintaining discretion -- saying goodbye to three dear people, not knowing when I will see them again -- dreading that yet more choice and change will be upon me soon --  realising i can have my cake and eat it too -- messing around and wasting my own time -- driving far too fast to arrive on time -- hyperventilating with anxiety because nearly running out of fuel, having to stop to fill -- relieved to not be late anyway -- coming to a favourite place and finding myself quietly accepted -- enjoying my sewing project -- hating my sewing project -- enjoying it again -- feeding the kitten --  talking, listening, laughing, embracing, kissing -- sharing pain and fear and grief -- eating the delicious dinner -- enjoying a moment of pretending i belong to a family -- helping with a simple chore -- discovering new connections and ideas -- wishing that everything were different -- mocking my own self-pity -- finishing a project -- planning a next-time -- being peaceful -- seeing a shooting star -- knowing that despite all the difficulties: 

If you, dear reader, were part of this day, thank you for all you gave 

Memories for all time: #4, Giant Ladybirds. Ladybugs, actually

Somewhere near Sacramento, May 2006

We're driving the tiniest Dodge RV we could hire, and it's still plenty spacious for 2 adults - one of us is a 6-footer. Everything is bigger in the US. Of which more later.

Our start-point: San Francisco, our destination: Los Angeles. We're driving the famous Pacific Coast Highway, starting with a run up the Napa Valley and back down past Sacramento.

It was a wonderful trip. The Napa Valley section was my secret homage to Ursula K. Le Guin's not-quite-novel "Always coming home" which might be going to be set there. Without meaning to, we found ourselves driving past the great wind farm that had caught our eye from the air days earlier. The turbines are giant ballerinas, dancing a graceful slow twirl in the light air of evening.

Near the wind farm we found a "park" where we could camp, or rather, a permitted open area to park the Dodge and feed the shower with quarters. Not a tree in sight to break that constant breeze ruffling the endless acres of bleached wheat grass.

In the morning, eating breakfast at the massive concrete picnic table, I suddenly realise I am sharing the space with dozens of ladybirds. Or, since we're in America, Ladybugs. They deserve the capital letter because they are HUGE. Each one the size of my fingernail, more orangey than the l'birds at home, but unmistakably my ferocious, spotted totem insect.