I mean, it's that time of year: the mad rush to get an insane amount done before Bead and Button. Just the way it is.
I try and bring new kits, so that means colour-ways and samples, and I just finished the one on the lower left a few minutes ago.
This is the first of a limited edition of these bracelets because I bought the tile beads from York beads, so sadly no longer around.
I don't often make things that I intend to be bracelets (a rope or a chain can be a bracelet or a necklace; I usually want it to be a necklace) but this is so perfect, so comfortable and unobtrusive and you don't have to take it off when you're at the computer, so this one was intentional. Plus the rhythm of the construction is very pleasing to me: each section seems like it ought to have more steps than it does because it's complete well before you expect it to be. It has a satisfying amount of detail even though it's about as close to instant gratification as a stitched bracelet could be.
It's not as though I never take a break for "me" beading time.
(Yes, I realise how ridiculous that sounds: it's all "me" beading time because it's not as though there's a gun to my head. It's my very own time when I bead because I want to, because I have an idea I want to follow, something I want to wear, whatever. Then there are classes I've said I'd teach, kits I promised to pack, proposals someone might be expecting from me, and that's "duty" beading. It's not as though I don't like it or don't want to, but it doesn't give me quite the rush that unstructured beading gives me).
My first riff above left reminds me of a baby's rattle: that handle, that unappealing pastel blue. I buy these colours because I think they'll be a useful accent or I need to get out of my colour rut and then they're so ugly to my eyes that all I can fathom to do with them is to make ugly samples.
So I have this stand of bamboo between my back yard and my neighbour and it's still recovering from the Polar Vortex a year and a half ago.
At this time of year I'm on Bamboo Patrol every morning for about five minutes, ensuring that the bamboo doesn't encroach: I break off new bamboo shoots so that it doesn't take over my yard, North America, and then the world.
Apparently a nest was built among the bamboo and when I pushed it aside to examine the earth beneath it, I'm guessing it got dislodged because the next time I walked past, I saw this:
This morning: one baby bird and an unhatched egg. Three feet away, chirping madly, a very wobbly baby bird. No ways the little guy is going to fly anywhere: not enough in the way of feathers.
I'm not sure if they'll make it and I don't think my involvement (even if I knew what to do for them) would help much. Circle of life and all that, but still.