on the allotment

In England, most people's homes don't sit on enough land to support a large fruit and vegetable garden. As early as 1000 years ago, people were clearing and cultivating pieces of land held in common: these were the first allotments - land that is owned by the government, local authority or parish and is rented to individuals who wish to grow food upon it. In the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, allotments were provided for the landless poor who might otherwise die of starvation. Food shortages during the First and Second World Wars once again proved the importance of these parcels of earth - an estimated 1.3 million tonnes of food were produced on allotments during the 'Dig for Victory' campaign of WWII. Through the 1980s and '90s, high housing and land costs led to a decline in the number of plots available, and 'growing your own' fell out of fashion. However, recent concern about genetically modified produce, a desire to eat more organic, locally-produced food and a yearning for the simple life have all led to an upsurge in the provision and use of allotments.

We took on our first (and second!) allotment plots last March. Our two plots sit alongside each other at the bottom of the hill. We had a choice of plots throughout the field, but I chose these because they get little passing traffic; I didn't want to become famous in the village for my inability to build a bean wigwam or grow onions in straight lines! Back in wet, gray March, I had visions of the whole family, elbow-deep in soil, munching our way through various heritage varieties of fruit and veg that are normally too expensive for us to buy in the shops. I envisaged row upon row of Kilner jars, full of home-canned produce. Yes. Then I came to my senses and realised I would be happy to just produce something! Somethat that lived and that we could eat.

Well. Call it beginner's luck, but we haven't done too badly so far. We started with the leeks we inherited from the former allotmenteer. We've savoured the sweetest, juiciest, reddest strawberries; picked blackcurrants till our fingernails were permanently stained purple; pulled more radishes than one family could possibly eat; popped pod after pea pod in our mouths and freshened our breath with tickly fronds of fennel (or, as the girls call it, 'children's chewing gum'). In short, we done good.

Taking care of a patch of dirt has proved much harder work than I - who have only ever grown food in boxes, pots and bags on concrete patios - ever imagined. Digging through wet clay for ten inches' worth of dandelion root is not exactly fun. But this little rectangle of earth has also proved to be very good for the soul. I have spiked my anger and hurt into icy mud after a particularly unpleasant conversation. I have wondered at the tenacity of pigeons and spent weeks trying to outsmart the crows, who seemed to beat me to every ripening strawberry in the early days of June. I have observed a four-year-old struggle, heave and eventually conquer the weight and sloshingness of a full watering can. I have chuckled at the suprised delight on the face of my littlest as she pulled her first radish from the dirt. I have sighed, knowing childhood is dancing away before my very eyes, as I watched my eldest daughter carefully plant her own tiny seeds, tucking them into their earthy beds and whispering prayers for growth. I have loved my husband more fully, knowing that as he dug potatoes from the soil, he was recollecting a time when he followed at the heels of his grandfather, himself a potato farmer. I have swelled with the pride of a new mother as I've harvested peas, beans, chard and beets: I made you. I grew you.

Many months ago, I declared that my word of this year would be 'grow'. We are indeed growing so very much in this rectangle at the bottom of the field on a hill.

on a serious note: child marriage

Perhaps not a subject I would normally discuss in this space. But, having learned a little about it, I cannot not talk about it.

I know a woman who has spent many years of her life documenting child marriage, a practice which takes place in at least 50 countries around the world. Photojournalist Stephanie Sinclair, whose work is regularly published in National Geographic, Newsweek and Marie Claire, has now distilled eight years of her work into a film that - beautifully, hauntingly, frighteningly, shockingly - reveals the human face of this tradition.

I encourage you to watch the film (scroll down to find it at the end of this post). The images and words of young girls who have been given, traded and sold into marriage do not make for easy viewing. As a mother of three little girls myself, I was deeply moved.

As a result of her work on this issue (which she writes about here and discusses on the PBS Newshour here), Stephanie and her friend Susanne Kreig set up The Elsa, Sifirash & Friends Soap Cooperative.  This small-scale vocational training program is empowering young women to build safer, more stable lives for themselves and their children. If you feel moved to help, there is a donation facility via Paypal or Amazon Payments. You may also wish to share a link to Stephanie's film about child brides.

Theirs is a story that deserves to be heard.

these hands can

This morning, my hands ache, my triceps ache, my shoulders ache and those little muscles between the backs of my ribs - are they called intercostals? - well, whatever they're called, they ache, too. Yesterday, I spent about four hours working on this beauty.

This gorgeous Welsh dresser is the most fabulous thing of many fabulous things I've received from fellow Freecyclers. Freecycle? If you're not already a member, check it out! There are local groups all over the place, and once you've joined you can offer or ask for all kinds of things. I've given away things like baby stuff, sporting equipment, empty jars and bottles and a portable CD player; I've received a tent, raspberry canes, fabric remnants and this dresser. The aim of Freecycle is to keep goods from ending up in our ever-growing mountain of rubbish. I've even seen cars on offer!

Anyway, so I picked up this dresser on Tuesday. I couldn't believe my eyes! I was just hoping for something with a few shelves I could use for extra storage...I never imagined the guy would open his garage to reveal a fifty year old solidly-built oak dresser with pretty detailing. I stupidly asked if he was sure he wanted to give it away! Luckily for me, he did.

So yesterday I set to work on bringing it back to life. But before I started, I tucked into one of these babies:

Okay. Truth be told, I might have eaten three of these gooey, pillowy cinnamon rolls. My lovely friend who keeps this blog sent me the recipe and it is the bomb (by the way. check out Kate's blog - she's a fabulous cook.). I did find the caramel a little salty, so if you make them, reduce the salt to half a teaspoon.

After I recovered from my self-induced sugar coma, I set to work. Out came the power tools. Oh yes. I love my power sander. Two things: power tools are great for perfectly flat pieces of wood, but when it comes to old stuff, nothing beats good old glasspaper and a whole lot of elbow grease; secondly, when you're sanding fifty years of woodstain, wax, grime and dust off of secondhand furniture, wear a face mask. I didn't, and I won't tell you how I know, but I inhaled a lot of dust.

It was round about at this point in the sanding when the postman knocked with a sweet little parcel sent by my friend Kate of the afore-mentioned food blog. Like everything she does, it was wrapped with such care. What a joy in my day to recieve a package wrapped in brown paper and string! Inside was this book, one of many which was specially printed and distributed throughout the UK in celebration of World Book Night. I was lucky enough to also be given a copy of this book by another Bood Giver - we're reading that one for Book Club this month. What a great initiative to get people reading again.

After opening my parcel (and possibly having another sneaky cinnamon bun), I got back to work. Sanding the top of the dresser was hard work. It probably took two hours. But, oh, how I was rewarded!

It came up so beautifully. The woodgrain just sings. I can't wait to massage a few coats of beeswax polish into it. I'm in a quandry now, though. I had planned to paint the dresser and the hutch (which I did not have time to make a start on yesterday), possibly this colour. But the oak is so pretty I am now wondering if I should just wax the whole thing and leave it. What do you think?

As an aside, I spent an hour playing with fabric scraps yesterday morning while the little ones built dens. I used the tiniest scraps of fabric left over from a log cabin cushion cover I'm working on to create a secret something that may find its way into a package for my lovely 4 Seasons Exchange partner. I may not send it, because it's not really Spring colours, but just in case I do, I won't give too much away here now. Rosie sure liked it.

Well, that's it for this novel of a blog post. I'll share more pictures as I progress on the dresser. Do give me your opinion on whether I should paint it or simply wax it.

And then go have a look at what's going on in other folks' creative spaces at kootoyou.

just eight straight lines

About four months ago, I bought some very inexpensive green and red gingham fabric, with the idea of using it to make reusable Christmas gift bags. We have hardly used any wrapping paper in our present-giving throughout this year (except for gifts outside of our family, and that is almost exclusively recycled wrapping nowadays), and though I adore the look of a beautifully-wrapped present, I hate how long it takes to do it. Today, with the deadline for getting my presents wrapped looming, I started making cloth gift bags. Not that I'm prone to procrastination or anything.

I've made a variety of sizes - some with gussets, some with ribbon already attached - and I thought I'd share the how-to bit with you (not that it's at all difficult, but I know by the time we get this close to Christmas, my brain's ability to work anything out for itself is waning quickly, so a photo-tutorial can save a bit of head-scratching). I used French seams on my bags for neatness - you could do without them to save time, but in all honesty they only add about two and a half minutes to each bag.

 Cut your fabric a little more that twice the size you want your finished bag to be. I didn't do any measuring - just made a selection of sizes. If you use a fabric such as gingham, you can just cut along the lines - super speedy!

 Working with one of the short edges, fold over twice, press and pin. Do the same with the other short edge.

 Sew a straight line along the folded edge, ensuring you catch the folded-under bit of fabric. My hems were about 3/8 inch - you could make them as wide or narrow as you please. I didn't bother backstitching at either end - the ends will be caught in the side seams anyway.

 Fold your hemmed fabric in half, hemmed edges together, wrong sides facing. Press along the folded edge.

 If attaching ribbons, tuck 1" of the ribbon in between the layers about 2" down from the hemmed edges. Pin all three layers together. Do the same on the other side. Sew straight lines down each edge, using a 1/4" seam allowance. When you've sewed both sides, you will have a bag that looks as though you've sewed it wrong side out as the raw edges will be on the outside. Your long pieces of ribbons should be on the outside of the bag.

 Now turn your bag inside out. It should look like the above photo, with 1" of ribbon sticking out of the neat edges. Press the sides of your bag so they're nice and flat.

 Sew down each side again with a 3/8" seam allowance - this should ensure that your raw edges are now encased inside the new seams. As you approach the ribbon, check that the long tail is laying flat inside your bag.

 Fold the short tail of ribbon over the fabric, so that as you continue your seam you sew down the tail. This keeps the inside of your bag nice and tidy and should stop the ribbon from fraying.

 Do the same for the other side. This is what the inside of the bag will now look like.

 If you want to add a gusset to the bottom of your bag so that it will stand up, pinch the corners of the bottom of the bag (whilst it's still inside out) and pull out so that you get a point.

 Sew a straight line so that you have a triangle. Use your judgement as to how large your triangle should be - mine were about 1 1/2" wide.

 This is what the bag looks like now, inside out.

 Here's a close-up of the gusset corners.

 Turn your bag right side out and admire your clever handiwork!

 Pop a gift inside, wrap the ribbons round the top edge and tie. Beautiful!

I managed to make eight bags in an hour, using about 1 1/2 yards of fabric. I didn't actually do any measuring or pinning - just pressed my seams and hems. I used bits of ribbon from my stash...you could easily make the bags without ribbons and tie them up as you wrap your gifts. Amanda has instructions for a slightly different way of constructing her bags and attaching the ribbons - her bags certainly look more elegant than mine! I love her red and white theme. And if you like the idea of using cloth to wrap your gifts, but don't have a sewing machine or the time to make bags, have a go at the Japanese art of Furoshiki, as demonstrated by the Lazy Seamstress.

new shoes

As part of our One Small Change for March, we have been trying to keep our spending local, as much as possible. We happen to live in a town that has become world-famous for having its own currency, which is awfully inspiring. We are very fortunate to have access to some wonderful traditional, local businesses, and it's so satisfying to know that rather than lining the pockets of some faceless corporation, we are instead helping to put food on one of our neighbour's tables.

This week we picked up Imogen's new handmade shoes from this shop. Although the shoes are twice as expensive as the popular high street brands, they are handmade, handfitted and built to last. Imogen wore her last pair for a year! Because they are handmade in the traditional way, the leather can be separated from the soles in order to be stretched. And they have said they'll be happy to re-fit the outgrown shoes to our next little girl's feet when the time comes. How's that for service and value-for-money?

Another benefit to buying local is that I can feel certain that these shoes were produced ethically. I can't bear to think of another little child halfway around the world in a factory, making shoes for my little children.

Other things we've been buying that are produced and/or sold locally include our veg, our dairy products and cards and paper products. This month we also managed to buy all our craft materials here in town, including fabric, buttons, wool and ribbon. And we visited our small local hardware store for the bits and bobs we needed to spruce up a corner of the garden, instead of travelling ten miles to the big DIY store in the next town. Although I suspect we paid a few pence more for our purchases, when you compare that to what we saved on petrol, I think we've still come out ahead.

For our April Change, we are planning to take our household further into the cloth realm. We already use cloth nappies and I've been using homemade mama cloth for about a year, so moving from paper towels and paper napkins to washable fabric alternatives makes good sense. Hmmm. I sense a raid on my fabric stash coming on....