I worked on this pin cushion this week. I really don't finish my cross stitch pieces but stick them in a drawer once I am finished. I decided that this one I would finish.
|Pattern Country Stitches- Pin Feathers|
" One day in early spring, while out walking, I decided to follow a path. I knew I had never seen before. As I walked down the through the twisty vine covered trees, in the distance I saw a old house set back in the woods. As I approached, I could see the primroses blooming closely next to the wooden steps as if protected there by a gentle hand.
There were the pointy stems of tulips, and daffodils, and next to the porch was a old, old Lilac covered in drooping purple blooms. Old climbing roses filled the trees, with promises of rainbows of blossoms once summer had arrived.
I took a step on the porch, which creaked to announce to the ghosts that lived there, that a visitor had come.
The old screen creaked as I opened it and walked into a room with sheet covered chairs and the smell of a lonely house met my nose. My eyes were drawn upwards to the stairs, the bannister was carved with vines and the newel post was a old tulip shape. As I climbed, I knew someone had loved this place and it was a people house sadly neglected. I saw a door, to my right and I turned the glass knob, I took a step into what was once a lovely room filled with secrets. There was a old iron bed frame with the paint sadly chipping. the old highboy along one wall with a dried bouquet of sweet anne's lace covered in dust. and a window seat under the window with the bow sash. There were book shelves that I am sure once was filled with old friends.
At the end of the bed stood a old chest. I walked over and lifted the lid, and as I opened it I realized I was looking at a trunk filled with dreams. The smell of old roses and woodruff leaped out at me. There were old dance cards, and old report cards and a bundle of letters now yellowed tied with a faded blue ribbon.
On top sat a old pin cushion and sewing box, the needles now rusted from disuse...
That is what I always think of when I make old sewing things.
Thank you for letting me share the things that go on in my head while I am sewing.
|There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.---Celia Thaxter 1835-1894|