Threads of Life

Threading the needle at the beginning is always the hardest part. But that fresh piece of linen (or Aida) has so much potential, full only with the endless hope of a beautiful work after all the fun hours (months, years) of stitching (and unstitching) that is to come. And I enjoy every step as it moves me out of the world outside, focusing just on what's in your lap. My 1st love (outside my family) is cross-stitch and it's seen me through 30-odd years.

At the moment I'm moving away from kits to the large 15 – 20 page patterns that you kit out yourself, but both have the amazing start of organizing the threads themselves. In the kits, I get to pull out the bundle of thread and start sorting all the pretty colours. Trying to tell the difference between the pale peach and the light peach, gently anchoring the pile as you remove the blue so the pile doesn't knot and securing each colour onto the labelled card. With the patterns you get 'stitchy mail', A nice plump parcel full of amazing DMC colours (even when the project is “black and white”). I then get to spend an hour or so gently pulling the end of the thread from the skein and winding it onto the tiny card.

The quickest step, working out where you are starting from and attaching the wooden frame appropriately. Sometimes in the corner, sometimes in the middle. And then it comes – threading that 1st colour onto the needle, trying to hold the anchor tight around the frame as you start that initial glorious row (or half dozen individual stitched if there's a high confetti element).

I always take a pause after that first set of stitches, the way the colour pops of the fabric, how very much you can't see what the picture will look like. But also because this is where you need to be careful. A miscount here and you're frogging for hours.

But as you add a 2nd and 3rd colour I can settle into a steady rhythm up and down as I move the needle through the fabric. It has an almost hypnotic effect that gives the mind focus without any pressure. No more thoughts of the outside worries and problems, stitch 3, miss 1, scratch the dog lying across my lap (under the fabric) behind the ears.

Then the next selection of exciting features appears. The moment where you can recognise an element of the pattern as the hand/ wing/ bag/ etc that it is. Getting a page finish. Seeing that colour that couldn't possibly go with the rest in this section blend in so seamlessly that you have trouble seeing it a few minutes later. I love how many things this stage a stitching a project can give you to look forward to. So many happys, as you tick of sections or pages. And it can last you a long time, I work 3 or so projects at a time so that I don't get bogged down in one set of colours for too long. And as these projects are all at different levels of completion if you need a particular type of happy, say a quick finish, you can choose the project closest to a page finish or actual finish to work on and your day brightens once more.

There are 2 hazards to make your way through. There are the frogs, it's always hard to have to take stitches out but it's also nice to see the new stitches falling into place. I must admit though that sometimes if it's just 1 or 2 stitches I'll leave them in and happily tell myself I have an original piece now.

The other 'problem' is when you get so excited, your so close to finishing the piece, you start thinking about how to photograph it to show off your work, what kind of frame would suit it. But as you happily mark off each colour the end seems to drag on. Somehow that last tiny section always takes so much longer than I think but ultimately it just makes me happier when I do finish that it's hard to see it as a drawback.

In our house, all 3 of us are artists so wall-space is at a premium. To help with this sometimes I combine this 1st love of cross-stitch with my 2nd, quilting and make the quilt borders the frame of multiple pieces that share a theme.

Today as the world around me is locked down due to the pandemic and the news is full of wars and disasters, my dog and I curl up together in the corner of our lounge room. There's no way to look at the world outside, and with our music, we sit and stitch. (Stabbing the fabric a thousand times as my husband loves to say) Together we feel content whiling away relaxing hours while still be able to say we've been productive.

It's a wonderful life!