G is for Grafting!

I have certainly been grafting away since my last post! My exhibition is set for late October so I am working on some new designs. I am using some dried flowers and think they look quite sweet. Each individual collection will be based on a different flower, the ones below feature miniature red roses against velum.I have lots of ideas and will share some over the coming weeks. It is an exciting busy time and my Christmas cards also need to be ready for the exhibition too. My website is to be updated too, I have my 2010 weddings to add to the gallery and also the christening commissions I have undertaken, but do feel free to add a comment in my visitor's book!

Current Commission

The weather has been dreadful over this Bank Holiday Weekend, so nothing new there then I hear you sigh! We did manage a blast to Whitby on Saturday, originally heading over to Scarborough as I wanted to go to Marks & Spencer’s for their special meal deal which is currently on – you know the type where 2 people can eat well for £10! We had the tank bag on the motorbike all ready to pack our purchases in but even as we headed for Whitby the skies looked black!
Just as we arrived in Whitby the heavens opened and we had quite a dramatic downpour! I say dramatic as we were under cover of the railway station roof at that point! Parking was a bit of an issue, not sure what is going on there but as the skies continued to look darker we decided the politics of the bike parking could wait until another day and we would make a dash for home.
Now normally the distance from Whitby to our house can be covered quite quickly on the motorbike – but as we just came onto the Moor Road the blackest of clouds in the distance must have noticed us and headed our way with speed! The raindrops seemed to be the size of golf balls as they hammered loudly onto our helmets! Rain thrashed against us and as it hit our leathers the cold rain found its way down our trousers and into our boots! We were drenched in the time it took us to get home!
Yesterday was no better. The weather forecast said it would get out later – but how late was the big question! 5pm and it was still high wind, mist and raining!
I decided to do some work on a current Christening Commission I have – the Christening is in September, the date we will know later this week. I always like to give my clients a couple of ideas to work with.
This first one has a more formal approach:-

The second one is a more relaxed approach – which do you like?

On the inside of the front cover is a detailed page with Harry’s birth details.

Once the date is known I will work on the insert details and an RSVP.
I love anything like this – I was in my element! The card itself is 12cm x 12cm – just the perfect size for a christening I think! I will be in my study for quite a few days now as I am preparing work for an exhibition in October. It will be in our local village hall and will consist of individual greetings cards and my Christmas collection. I am quite excited about it. I will be taking orders for Christmas as well as selling many of my cards on the night itself. We are currently updating my website so do check it out and feel free to leave a comment in the guestbook!
For more Monday macro shots visit here

Chicken update!

This morning when I let the chickens out I noticed a pale blue egg! This means that Bev has started laying again after her broody period. I knew she would eventually start laying again but was a bit concerned that the attitude of the other hens towards her would put her off, but it would seem things are getting back to normal! The bullying has settled down but she does tend to keep herself to herself! This morning I fed them their favourite treat, cooked boiled rice mixed in with their layers pellets and some grit!

On a small farm just over the hill there lived a farmer named Farmer. He took some kidding about his name, but not much, mostly because he didn't talk to many folks. He lived alone with his wife, Mrs. Farmer, whom he loved very much. And they had a chicken, whom he also decided he loved very much.
"I love this chicken," he said to his wife one day."Yes, I love her too," said the wife. "She's a nice chicken." "By cracky, I'm going to write a love poem for her." "I'm not so sure people should write love poems for chickens," she warned, but his mind was already made up.
Mr. Farmer worked on his poem for an hour. He had never written a poem before, so he didn't know how bad this one was. It went:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You're a great chicken,
Cock-a-doodle-doo.

He thought it was good enough, and he wrote it out in his best handwriting and brought it to the chicken early the next morning, and set it down in front of her so she could read it.
The chicken looked at the poem with one eye, then the other. Then she hopped on the paper and scratched with her talons, until it was nothing but shreds. The farmer frowned and walked away silently.
He was downhearted, but Farmers don't give up so easy. He said to his wife, "I love this chicken."
"Yes, I love her too," said the wife. "She's a nice chicken."
"By golly, I'm going to write a love poem for her."
"But you did that already, and she scratched it up."
"That just means my poem wasn't good enough. I'll write a better poem."
"I'm still not sure people should write love poems for chickens," she warned, but his mind was already made up.
Mr. Farmer worked on this new poem for five hours. He had only ever written one poem before, so he didn't know how mediocre this one was. It went:

Dearest chicken, lovely bird,
Love is not too strong a word
For the way I feel for you,
And hope you feel it for me too.
I love you more than I can say,
And even more each passing day.

He wrote it out as before, and brought it to the chicken early the next morning. He set it down before her, anxiously watching for some sign of approval.
The chicken stared at the poem for a second. Then she pecked at it. And pecked again and again, poking holes in the paper until every word was obliterated. The farmer grimaced and walked away, choking back a sob.
But a Farmer does not admit defeat so readily. He said to his wife, "I love this chicken."
"Yes, I love her too," said the wife. "She's a nice chicken."
"By God, I'm going to write a love poem for her."
"But you did that twice already, and she tore 'em both up."
"That just means they weren't good enough. I'll write a better poem."
"I'm pretty sure people shouldn't write love poems for chickens," she scolded, but his mind was already made up.
Mr. Farmer worked on this third poem for three whole days. He had only ever written two poems before, so he didn't know how good this one was. It was, in point of fact, the greatest love poem ever written by anyone in the whole history of poetry. It went:

As grains in the cornfield, for thee have I shucked,
Words of love do I offer, yea of praise and renown,
Winged yet earthbound, as seraphs cast down,
To thee have I whisper'd, to me hast thou clucked.
Pulchritudinous poultry, from beak to thy legs,
To gaze at thy galliform soul is to sing
Of the unbested arm and the untested wing;
I toast thy fowl beauty as I toast thy fresh eggs.
Say not love is folly 'twixt chickens and men;
For hath not my heart forged a bond with thy breast?
Yea, a thick bond, which thickens, like mud in a nest,
And quickens my pulse for thou pullet, thou hen.
O chicken, surpassing the swallow or dove,
As thou swallow my corn, spurn not my love.

He finished writing it just as the sun came up on the third day. He brought it to the chicken, and bowed low as he placed the parchment before her.
The chicken looked at the poem for almost a minute. Then she clucked musically, and the farmer's heart filled with joy.
Then she turned around, and pooped right onto the sonnet. She defecated again, and again, until every word was smothered in chicken droppings. Mr. Farmer stumbled back to the house. He could barely see for the tears in his eyes.

That night, he said to his wife, "I love this chicken."
"Mmm, so do I," she agreed. "May I have the other drumstick?"

For more camera critters visit here