Some progress on Sarah McPhail. In spite of my new stash, I'm having a hard time putting SP down. I'm working right now on adding the stem-stitched threads to embellish the bow. The stem-stitching is not exact in the way that cross-stitching is, so it's a tad anxiety-producing.
I did start Paradise Lost, but I'm not going to do much more until I order the three skeins of Gloriana that design calls for. Neither of my LNS's carries Gloriana--or the Belle Soie that the BBD Christmas cardinal suggests. I was going to substitute AVAS on the cardinal and then, as I looked at the photo, I realized I'd be missing out on the nice variegation, so I'll send for those fibers as well. In any case, I don't like to try to stitch around symbols that I don't have the thread for--I'm more likely to make a mistake.
This is a big season for fibers if you're stitching the new designs--lots of NPI. Fortunately I have most of that, and it's easy to get.
Fall is finally arriving here, although the days are still warm--in the 70s. The nights and mornings are chilly. The tomatoes are giving a last gasp, and we enjoyed a seasonal favorite last night for dinner: fried green tomatoes, since we have so many green ones on the vine that will get nipped if we have frost. I tried using a pink/unripe tomato as well, and it was actually tastier. The red tomatoes we are getting are smallish and taste...wistful. BF's mom, Nettie, who was from Nelson County, VA, taught me to make fried green tomatoes, and fried chicken. Nettie grew up in Schuyler along with Earl Hamner, Jr., who became famous for writing "The Waltons," the fictionalized feel-good television series about good old hard times during the depression. She used to laugh that Mr. Hamner had embellished a good bit, and that those hard times were just hard times--nothing good about them. Her mom died when she was 14, and as the oldest child of 10 siblings, she raised them all. She taught me a good bit about country and depression-era cooking that would make my cardiologist wince, but her recipes lend interest to our table when we occasionally make one of them. She died a few years ago, and I think the hard thing about growing older is the pang that attaches to certain events and rituals beyond even the missing face at the holiday table or the loss of the familiar voice on the phone.
Pink is helping himself to a towel which he will chew holes in. Bunny owners call this "bunny lace." "I'm embellishing it."
Happy week ahead!