Hello Everyone Just a quickie to let you know that Henning is home and all is well. Now we're trying to get his third, and hopefully last, surgery scheduled ASAP, before the next wave of Corona infections cause the hospitals to close their operating theatres again. I'm abusing the situation here by alternating betweeen napping and sitting on the bed next to him working on a crochet blanket. Not much real work going on and nothing to tell unless you want to know about the boring routine of a nurse/cook/ laundry attendant. Thank you for your kind thoughts and wishing you a wonderful week!

Before and After

 

Before

Several years ago, I started making a crochet blanket while sitting next to a hospital bed. It was a really unhappy time in my life. Sadness was woven into the blanket together with the yarn. Also, the colours were much too busy for the design and being a beginner at crochet, I made many, many mistakes while trying to count the rows and figure out the complicated stitches. Whenever I worked at this blanket it felt wrong but being stubborn, I continued with it off and on between other projects.

After

 

 

No, I don't have the captions the wrong way around. Over the last few weeks, I've been slowly frogging the entire thing and this is what remains. A project that won't end up as a UFO. I have a basket of yarn neatly wound into balls. Plus, I am making a different blanket that uses some of the same colours so the yarn will go directly there.

Rather than feeling guilt at my destructiveness, ripping out the stitches was therapeutic and just what I needed as I once again go through a time of extreme stress and hospital visits. I'm very concerned about Henning and what lies ahead for us this week. All I can do is believe in a positive outcome, and try not to worry about things that might never happen.

We had a lovely bike ride to the river this afternoon, probably our last for a long while. The harvest is in and wildflowers have taken over the edges of the fields. And yeah, we kept one eye on the sky all the way ;-)

My Valentine Adventure

 If you celebrate Valentine’s Day, I hope that you were showered with attention and gifts. In our household, I am in the Jane Laverick camp and Henning is of the opinion that he’s my Valentine every day, so he doesn’t need to make a special effort on someone else’s say-so. None the less, we had a peaceful and mutual be-kind-to-each-other day. Mostly because we were exhausted after our adventure yesterday. But first today:

I glued together a batch of gorgeous little 1/12 scale boxes for storing miniature treasures. It is the perfect project if you need to sit quietly and not move too many muscles. They are made from a printy by Sandra Morris from Tower House Dolls. She has just published a book, Making Miniature Mignonette Toy Dolls. If you buy the book, you will be invited to the Facebook Mignonette Doll Club where we have hilarious fun. If you are into tiny dolls, I highly recommend it.

So, what happened yesterday? Henning said, won’t you be my Valentine on a bicycle? Let’s cycle to the river. It will be fun, he said. This is a man who loves anything on wheels and obviously I wanted to be loved on Valentine's day. That is how the adventure started.

The river is about 10km from our home. When we are fit and healthy, we can do the round trip in our lunch hour and it’s just the right distance to feel the breeze in your hair. Sadly, Henning has not been well lately, and we hadn’t cycled in a long while, so I was happy when he suggested the outing.

We hopped on our mountain bikes at lunchtime and set off at a leisurely pace. When we reached the river, we had a short break as we always do, then turned back for home. It was a lovely day. A few clouds high in the sky and just enough of a breeze to rustle the soybeans in the fields beside the road. On a whim, Henning said, let’s turn off the road and cycle on the sand track through the fields. It runs parallel to the main road and it will be an adventure, he said. So we did.

The soybeans were about knee high and brilliant green after the recent rains. They were also in glowing health because they’d recently been fertilized with the stuff that comes out the back end of farm animals. Soon, we were surrounded by a revolting pong and a black cloud of flies. We sped up to get rid of the flies and to our relief, the soybean fields gave way to corn and we left the pesky insects behind.

This late in summer, the corn is fully grown and more than two meters tall. By now we had traveled quite a bit further than we intended and the breeze was picking up but the track through the fields was level and sandy, ideal for off-road cycling. We knew that we were traveling in the general direction of home and although we had lost sight of the main road a while ago, our GPS said that it was just on the other side of the ridge running parallel to our course. I didn’t want to turn back for a second encounter with the flies and Henning reckoned that sooner or later the farm track would meet up with the road again, so we continued through the corn fields.

After another three kilometres, there was still no sign of the road, the skies had darkened with clouds, and the breeze had become a tremendous roar in the corn. I had no idea that corn could be so noisy. We realized that we would have to turn around or risk being on the road after nightfall.

Just as we turned to go back, the skies opened. We were caught in a downpour in the middle of an endless cornfield and the rain was coming down like bullets. Not only did it sting on the way down, but every drop seemed to ricochet and hit us from beneath with a lukewarm splash. We were drenched and muddy within moments but not only that, the rain instantly washed away our tracks in the path. We took a wrong turn, turned around when we realized our mistake, could not figure out where we had come from, and then we were properly lost. With corn taller than our heads on all sides and no sun to guide us we could only keep heading in what we hoped was the right general direction. It felt like hours later when we finally washed out on to the road like two drowned rats.

We were back at the river at sunset, bedraggled and tired, and still had to face a ten-kilometre trek home. It drizzled all the way and after dark it became quite cold in our wet clothes. I was ever so relieved when we finally heard the welcoming bark of the dogs at our gate at 8pm. Our lunchtime jaunt turned into a 50km ordeal and today, we can feel it in every muscle.

The story does not end here though. Just in case you are thinking of going on an adventure of your own, let me tell you the things the explorers do not warn you about.

Fifty million mosquito bites itch like crazy, and I washed a sand dune out of my ears. But the worst part is this; splashing mud seeps into every crevice. Cycling with sand in your butt crack is abrasive. It will be a few days before I stop my bandy-legged sailor walk.

If you are looking for me, I will be sitting quietly making miniatures.

 

The Future is Open

 

This might look empty to you, but it's a harbinger of great things to come in the future. Soon. Like, 2021. I've had enough of living in The Co-Void already.

The project started in my imagination when I saw these in a wholesaler's warehouse two years ago. They were hideously expensive but I coveted them from the moment I set eyes on the boxes. In January, the company had a closing down sale and six were left, priced to go. A bit battered but still sturdy and at $2 per box, you can't buy the materials to construct your own.

I feel a cat-like attraction to hollow things. My thinking isn't 'Will my bum fit?' though, it's 'What can I put in there?'. These boxes were screaming miniature display.

The first order of the day was getting rid of Michael Jackson.

It needed many layers of paint but eventually, I could say, 'Bye-bye Michael'. This happened in June; you can see that we're in the middle of winter and the garden is quite dull. It was also the middle of lockdown here in South Africa and I had nothing to do except to watch paint dry.

Next, I made some neat liners for the box and the lid. Being unable to scoot out to the craft shop for inspiration, I found a wallpaper sample on the internet, rescaled and tiled in Word, and printed it on ordinary paper in grayscale.

I added some little shelves and sealed all the surfaces with matt varnish for durability.

Fast forward a few weeks and back to the exterior of the boxes. I glued Velcro to the spines and outside edges of each box.

This way, many boxes can become one. 

Stood on its side and opened up, I have 80cm x 90cm of display area with 36 little shelves the perfect size on which to display miniatures.

It breaks down in less than a minute and stores in a box light-weight and ready to transport to a show. Now all I need is a miniature show. And stock. And customers would be nice.

I hope that you're doing what you need to do to stay safe and that this year hasn't been terribly unkind to you. My heart goes out to the people I'm in contact with remotely who have suffered everything from misfortune to outright tragedy in the last few months. I carry your sadness with me and I think of you every day.

Personally, I've never experienced so many awful things crammed into such a short time. My family has been visited by setbacks, sickness, and death and it's been a trial for all of us but I will tell you about it in another post.

Right now all I can say is that despite the hardship, I'm being extraordinarily creative and productive. I'm studying, experimenting, making things. 

I'm looking forward to a day when life can move forward and I can start growing again instead of lying dormant waiting for this season to pass. I hope that on the day when you see this display bursting with miniatures at a show, you will celebrate with me. Even if we have to wear a mask and hugs are not allowed. The way we do things needs to change but humanity is robust; we can hold on to hope and adapt. We're going to get through this!

Time and a Little Dust

I've always done my own cleaning so I don't miss the bed-making fairy. What I have never done, is to measure the length of time between cleaning something and the next time I do it. I imagine that for me, it's a mindless process like an animal sets up its burrow in a comfortable way.
With the world in Lockdown, many things seem to have become a count-down. On Friday, we reached day 50 here in South Africa. The regulations are as draconian and ridiculous as ever but I'm still happy in my blanket fort.
What I have noticed, is that little piles of stuff I was going to sort and put away seven weeks ago are still in the same place, with maybe a slightly more substantial sprinkling of dust. Projects I started with gusto are stalled, and they've been joined by many more beginnings of something promising that petered out. Where does the time go?

All is not doldrums though; I'm working on a new batch of little houses and they're fun.

I've completed another (hopefully final) batch of cloth face masks. Unless the pandemic continues until they wear out.

Some things don't stop growing even in winter. On Friday, Henning and I gave each other a haircut at the Doornkloof East Open Air Salon. Note the dustbin bag and clothespin ensemble. We run a classy establishment here.

I hope you're well and keeping sane in an increasingly disturbing world. Remember that in the game of rock, paper, scissors, a level head tops what the scaremongers and the politicians say, every time.

Crafting in a Time of Corona

The map is lighting up with red dots as people in an increasing number of world countries get the coughing sickness and while only a short while ago it seemed like a distant and exaggerated threat, in the last few days it has become distressingly real.
My international circle of acquaintances is speaking about how the virus affects their lives and suddenly we're chatting with one another much more than usual. Everyone agrees that we're in for several months of minimized contact with other people while the virus burns itself out. The internet will be our stand-in for postponed shows, nixed shopping trips with our friends, canceled club meetings and workshops.
In the last week, readers of my retrospective blog posts have increased by a whopping 784%! This flurry of activity has prompted me to come out of hiding and add my few cents worth with some fresh blog content. If I'm going to have a captive audience, I might as well make good use of it, haha! But seriously, this is not my only motive. If we help to entertain and inform one another, we will get through this challenge so much better.
I might not have been blogging for the last few months but I've been composing posts in my thoughts continuously and I've actually been working on some exciting things. Now seems like a good time to share them and help to cheer everyone up. You can look forward to random posts about miniatures, my life, teddy bear patterns, tarantulas, bicycles, and if it becomes necessary, possibly even a tasty recipe for the last few dry beans and teaspoon of apricot jam left in your cupboard after the apocalypse.
Whichever country you're in, there has never been a better time to stay at home and do crafts. Corona virus is a real and serious threat and every one of our lives is going to be affected by it. Even if we are fortunate enough not to get sick, we will suffer economic and social consequences.
Let's start by being considerate; avoid gathering in public unless it's necessary, and wash your hands!

This is Where I Am

First glimpse of Germany from the air.

Hello Everyone

I disappeared when you were waiting to hear what happened next, sorry! The truth is that I've fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up in a fairy tale. It's called Germany. Wow, have I fallen hard for this place. But let's continue where I left off last time.

I caught the plane, arm in a sling and in quite a bit of pain but from there on things became better. First, the flight was half empty and I had two seats to myself and could lie down to sleep. When I arrived in Frankfurt, going through passport control and customs was a breeze. People are so efficient here. I took a fast train from the airport to Karlsruhe, where Siegfried (father in law) met me with his car. From there it was a 25km drive to my home for the next three months.

Karlsbad viewed from Biebelheim

It's impossible to describe the perfection of this little village without pictures. Nestled between corn fields and patches of forest, there's so much green that it feels like a dose of tranquilizer.

Karlsbad village centre.

The church is at the center of the village and the area is a perfect mix of modern and old. I've been so busy snapping pictures that I haven't had time to upload them to Instagram.

For the first few days, I felt completely disorientated. The sun hangs in the wrong part of the sky, cars drive on the wrong side of the road; as soon as I step out the front door I feel lost. Thankfully, Siegfried keeps nipping at my heels like a sheepdog and after a week, I'm happy to say that my internal compass is kicking in.

Over the weekend, I unpacked my art supplies and set up a workspace in the attic. Take a good look, my desk will never be this tidy again!

Tomorrow, my classes at the Volkshochschule start. I will be very busy learning to speak German like a German and finding out about the culture and history of the country.

As a sideline, I'm learning to ride a bike again. The story about not forgetting how is completely untrue. After 35 years out of the saddle, I've already had a few good falls; the bike runs away with me and bucks like a horse when I pull on the brakes. But that's a story for next time.

Wishing you a wonderful week in whatever part of the world you are.

Megan

I'm Flying, With a Little Help from My Friends

Here's a quick update on my plans. I will be on the plane tomorrow, as planned. Arm in a sling and feeling unprepared, but I know that everything will be fine in the end.
After a disastrous second visit to the specialist for my sore shoulder, I went back to my GP, who took matters in hand. He did the necessary tests and diagnosis himself, identified the problem, and prescribed a course of action. Doctors don't rat each other out, but I could tell that he was disgusted that I'd lost a week of potential recovery at a critical time due to the disinterest of his colleague.
My GP has been the family doctor for four decades and he knows me well. He noticed my bleary eyes and shrill voice and scribbled a note for sleeping- and anti-anxiety meds, laughing and telling Henning he knows I won't take it, grind it up and sprinkle it on my food.
I've been keeping track of the pills so no one can dope me, but as the pressure keeps mounting, there have been moments when I seriously considered gobbling a few.
I've been trying for a week to get a new SIM card for my phone to work; I need an international number. Yesterday, I figured out that the reason it's not working is that Busiswe with the bullfrog face at the phone shop was too busy applying lipgloss and snapping her gum to Rica the number. This is a legal requirement and I will have to go back to the shop with my original documents to redo it. It's weekend; I hope that someone will be bothered to help me before I catch the plane.
Also yesterday, we had an all-day power failure that lasted until 9:30pm. Although there were a few things I could do while we still had daylight, I'm now in panic mode to tick the last things off my list.
A concerning number of people in South Africa are on anti-anxiety meds, our generic name for it is Fokitol. Sometimes it feels as though not caring is the only way to survive in a country where no one does their job unless they're a criminal and about to do you in.
Fortunately, I have a huge bag full of stronger medicine. It's called my Friends and Family. Thank you for all your caring messages, prayers, and help over the last weeks. I haven't had time to personally respond to some messages, but once I'm out the other end you will hear from me.

G is for...

The time has finally come to let the cat I've been keeping under wraps for six months out of the bag. In two weeks - to the hour - I will be on a plane. When I started planning this trip it seemed so far away. I can't believe how time has flown and of course, I don't feel nearly ready.

The reason you haven't seen any posts about the Del Prado house and I've been generally quiet, is that I've been busy preparing for a three-month stay in Germany. It's not a holiday. I'm going to attend to family matters, study, work and do a legion of other things.

On one hand, I'm so excited my toes are curling; on the other hand, I'm already missing my husband and animals and I don't know how I'm going to be able to take leave of them.

Fortunately, a lengthy journey needs a lot of preparation and I'm being kept very busy making sure the dogs have enough winter blankets and the tarantulas enough food to see them through till I come back. I made a mega-batch of muesli for Henning (he won't eat the shop-bought stuff) but apart from that, I know that he will be able to keep himself fed and warm. He likes to remind me that he was a happy bachelor for years before he met me. Still, there are so many little details which I routinely take care of that he doesn't even know about. I'm sure I will return to find crocodiles lounging around a swampy swimming pool and all manner of colourful fungus growing in the fridge and in the shower.

I have to confess that my main concern for this trip has been finding a way to stuff as many art supplies and tools from my studio into my suitcase as possible. I would rather go naked than be short of paint and brushes!

The ghostly toy blocks in the photo are one of the projects I'm taking with me. Cast in white resin, they're ready to be painted and accessorized.

If blog readers in Germany would like to make contact with me, I'll be staying in Karlsbad, and I'm trying to wrangle things so I can be at the show in Rheda on the 25th May.

While I'm gone I won't bore you with lots of pictures of forests and castles on this blog, but I do plan to check in weekly to let you know how I'm getting along. If you prefer to share every little detail of my adventures, I'm vlogging on Instagram HERE.

F: Frogs and Fountains

These little frogs are so tiny that my camera squints when I try to photograph them. Only about 5mm long, they're perfect for a 1/12 scale dollhouse garden. I'll be making a fresh batch soon, and I'll show you process photos and some ideas on how to use them in and around your dollhouse.

Rainbow with the first rain - August 2013

In our real-life garden, there are several ponds and a fountain. Needless to say, there are frogs and in summer they have very loud concerts at night. They're not the only noisy ones though. Just look at how the grey loeries enjoy the fountain. Their real name is Corythaixoides concolor, but colloquially we also call them kwêvoëls or go-away birds, for the sound they make.

E is for Endurance

I've persevered with my resin experiments over the last few weeks. Also been exclaiming in exasperation quite often. I switched to white resin. It's great for hiding bubbles and imperfections, but it comes with a new set of challenges. Still, I managed to make quite a few embellishments and they're ready to be sanded and painted.

Here's a bit of biographical chat.

endurance

1.

 Denoting or relating to a race or other sporting event that takes place over a long distance or otherwise demands great physical stamina.
2. The capacity of something to last or to withstand wear and tear.
 
Very often when we use the word endure, we mean that we're suffering. I know, because in pity-party conversations with myself I regularly ask why I'm forced to endure this or that. However, endurance also has powerful affirmative connotations.
There’s something about an item or activity which has stood the test of time that grounds us and helps to make sense of life. To me, it's ballet.

Geared up for class.

Ha, I bet you didn’t know that I’m a secret ballerina! This month marks my fourth anniversary at the Dance Hub adult ballet studio. I started dancing for the first time after a prolonged illness. My life was in tatters; my body was weak and scarred, and my mind dwelled in dark places.
When I enrolled in ballet classes, I promised myself that I would not give up until three months passed, no matter what. I hated the first weeks; I was excruciatingly self-conscious, I was so tired all the time, and I couldn’t do the simplest things such as balance on my toes. I endured those classes with a capital E.

My favourite ballet shirt.

Gradually, I started understanding ballet terminology, I learned which muscles to use, and I became a bit stronger. While I was doing battle with the physical aspects of mastering the most difficult form of dance, something else was happening in the background. Every slight conquest boosted my self-confidence and  I learned to relax. 

Our beautiful teacher, Louina.
That's me against the window on the left, balancing on my toes :-)

One day I burst out of class and exclaimed, I love ballet! I realized then that I’d found the other kind of endurance; the kind that lets you push your body until you become hot and sweaty and it feels great.

Practice, practice, practice.

Don’t imagine that I’m any good at it. No matter how much I practice, I will always be the clumsiest ballerina in class but ballet has become a part of my life, one of those enduring things that give meaning to everything else. There are such lovely people in the class, the teachers are fantastic, and working on my body, mind, and attitude has had a tremendous spill-over benefit to other areas of my life.

Jump for joy! That's me in the centre.

May you find joy in everything you do this week.

How to Give Chocolate to a Miniaturist

Henning went overseas recently. When he came back, there was the usual ceremony of gifts from afar.
Henning: 'I brought you chocolate.'
Me: 'Wonderful!' Thinking: not. I'm not much of a chocolate eater and when I do, I prefer supermarket brands to the fancy-schmancy imported stuff.

Hmm. The tin is pretty. It would be ideal for keeping pencils.

Whoa! Look at those wrappers. Each one has a reproduction of a classic painting printed on glossy paper. I could frame them and hang them in my dollhouse.

And there's a pencil. Multicolor, no less! I haven't had one of those since I was a kid. Writing with it is going to be so much fun.

Me, holding out the tin to Henning: 'Would you like a chocolate? Mind you don't tear the wrapper or the foil.' Thinking: The gold foil is going to come in handy for making dollhouse Christmas decorations.

That my friends, is how you engineer a win-win situation when living with a miniaturist. All parts appreciated, except the chocolate, which was eagerly devoured by the man with a sweet tooth.

Mini-wise, I'm working on a village of tiny houses at present. They are cast in resin and hand painted. Initially, I had misgivings about my mini painting skills but as I go along, I'm becoming addicted to the process and loving how I can individualize every building.

I'm not only playing with miniatures. A large shipment of teddy bear making supplies arrived and I'm busy unpacking and adding new items to the website. Glass eyes and smaller sizes of safety eyes which were out of stock are available again.

These pretty colored safety eyes come in several sizes and have a glitter backing. Difficult to photograph, but stunning in real life. Velvet noses and other goodies are on the website already and the eyes should be on the site by Wednesday.

Wishing you a sweetly creative week.

The Importance of New Year

Aliens might know everything about gyroscopic hyperdrives and faster-than-light travel, but these two don't have a clue about the importance of the New Year. That must be why they abducted me from my holiday, strapped me to a chair in a room that looks very much like my office, and pushed me into 2019 at a speed that holds me down with a force of about 10G. I can hardly keep my eyes open, never mind find the strength to tap on the keyboard.

But seriously, the proper thing to do is not to hurtle into the New Year in a blur. There's no better time to chart your course and make a few changes if needed. If you don't have any New Year's resolutions yet, jot down some ideas. It doesn't matter if your plans fail; it matters that you try.

Here are my tools for 2019. I'm not going to reveal my plans for the year ahead yet, but there are some clues. The diary was a gift from my husband, and the cover is significant.

This lovely planner and luxury pen were a gift from a friend who is much better at mapping out goals than I am. Thank you, it's going to help me so much!

Whatever star you reach for in 2019, I wish you a beautiful journey.