Well, we're more or less in the festive season, and isn't that time of year the time for miracles? At least small ones?

A while ago, I posted a picture of an amaryllis plant in almost full bloom:



and you will notice it's almost full bloom because there is a third bud, still growing, on that plant.

You will also notice that the plant is very tall, and the pot is not so very large. Which, early one morning, led to the plant doing a proper suicide attempt in falling off the windowsill, where we had placed it the evening before.

Bang.

The two flowering stems had almost finished being pretty by that day, but the bud was still in the bud, and growing enthusiastically. And now, after that fall off the sill, it had broken off and was only hanging on by a little bit of plant skin. Which made me quite sad.

So what do you do in a case like this? Place the pot into a large, massive second pot, so it can't topple over again. Whip out the masking tape. Gently pull the bud up so it can sit again on its stem... and wrap, generously, with masking tape. Then be rather sure that that was a pathetic attempt in saving the bud and go on with your life.

A few days later: realise that the bud is still green and hasn't browned and shrunk yet.

A few more days later: be very happy and very impressed, as the bud is opening up, getting ready to bloom.

Here you go. Our personal little Christmas Miracle:



Now if that isn't a nice thing!

It's December, and I am thoroughly enjoying it. I spent the weekend doing fun things with friends - which included a workshop in enamelling on silver clay jewellery, two things I've itched to do for years now.

It was... interesting. Years ago, I had lots of fun with doing Fimo stuff, including really fine, intricate and delicate things. I've also done stuff with normal clay, but I've never used silver clay before - which is, basically, real silver, powdered and mixed with a water-based organic binding agent so you can shape it much like clay. It also looks like it - a light grey colour. Very, very unspectacular. Not much like clay, though, it costs a shitload of money - a bit more than 3 € per gram of clay. Working with it includes oiling up your hands and work surfaces to prevent it from sticking, and rolling it out into sheets, and cutting and stamping it - so it is a little bit like baking cookies, only in much more expensive.

Much like clay, the stuff dries out quite quickly, especially if you are working with fine stuff. Which you tend to do, obviously, when doing jewellery... so I was sort of medium successful only in getting done what I wanted to do. Still, I went home with three pieces that I'm quite happy with, and one that I will just sort of write off as my trial piece.



I might actually do something like this again. With more of a grasp on the material, though, and perhaps a little better plan... and, if I can, lowered expectations. Lowered expectations can be a really good idea at the start!

I can't believe it's already December! I can easily believe it's already Monday again, though. These pesky starts-of-the-week keep coming with irritating regularity, somehow...

So in case you, too, are suffering from oh-no-it's-Monday-can't-it-be-Saturday-still-itis, here's a consolatory flower picture for you:



...and I hope you have a successful Monday!

Winter now has actually and finally come - it's snowing outside! Just after I sort of complained yesterday that there is no snow yet.

It's not much, and not looking spectacular yet, but it is proper, honest-to-goodness white stuff falling from the sky.



... so I guess the time to change the tyres on the bicycle is also drawing near...

Meanwhile, with such weather outside, guess what the little cat is doing?

Yes. Right.

Seven years ago today, the Most Patient Husband of Them All and I had a party. To celebrate.



As you do when you are getting married.

So guess who's not doing any work today? And celebrates, again, instead?

Because finding someone you can talk to, and laugh with, and share all your ups and downs with; someone who copes with your small and large faults and peculiarities; someone who is happy when you are and would like to lift you up when you are down - finding someone like this is the greatest thing on this planet, and it should be appreciated and cherished day by day.

Obviously you can't have a party every day because of it. But you definitely can once in a while. Also a great reason for having some cake! (If you need a reason for cake, that is...)

I'm back from a really wonderful weekend, teaching tablet-weaving and hand sewing and fingerloop braiding and spinning, and having nice chats and lots of interesting questions and discussions, in splendid company and with a lot of coffee.

I've also gotten a little brain fart for a motif I could try on my brain bender tablet weave... the Franconian coat of arms.

And now I'm in the home run stretches for organising the European Textile Forum, and getting my presentation ready, plus handling the usual in-the-background work stuff - and realising that there's a lot for me to do, in not so much time.

So I'll be taking a little break from blogging, and I'll be back telling you about things again in a week, when I'll hopefully have dealt with all the urgent stuff!

I mentioned the hard and firm rules in the post about tablet weaving a few days ago, and that is just the thing to segue off into some ponderings about what I call "Crafter's Bias".

When you are doing craft stuff for a living, you want to have a suitable, efficient way of working. Usually, you get taught this way when you are learning the craft, and you get to know other ways to do it, other tweaks, maybe other tools when you are meeting other colleagues, or (what used to be a thing much more common than today) when you are travelling as a journeyman.

So while you might have a bit of time to experiment once in a while, and might shift things slightly, work doesn't usually leave you with lots of extra resources to fool around and try different things and methods. You might also not be aware of there being other methods - or at least not think actively about it. This, together with sort of getting set in your ways that you know will work for you and that can be calculated properly, can lead to the feeling that there is one way to do it - your way. Because, obviously, that's how it's done, right?

When you are, say, an archaeologist specialising in crafts, you might also try to reconstruct how things were done back when. This means you look at different tools, different ways to handle one process (including ways from other parts of the globe), probably try out stuff yourself, and generally keep an open mind regarding procedures, tools and methods. Basically, it's the exact opposite mindset to Crafter's Bias.

Fun facts: I have situations where I have Crafter's Bias, and I suddenly find myself go "That is how it's done! No discussion! ... Oh. Wait. Erm... that is one way to do it. There might be several other ones, we can't tell, but that is how I do it, it works for me, and it has so far worked for a lot of other people I have taught it as well." It's even funnier when I see a different method and my first thought is "But but but that is wrong! With a capital W!" until the archaeologist kicks in and tells the crafter to cool down and breathe, there's more than one way.

While it might sound weird and restrictive at first, Crafter's Bias is actually not a bad thing. I see it as a sort of evolutionary development; these also sometimes look weird from a rational perspective, but from the perspective of the species' survival, it all makes sense. Crafter's Bias keeps you from going off on a tangent too much, losing time, money and energy on trying out things that might work or might ruin your current project, so it's actually a sane thing to have if you work crafts for a living. It won't prevent you from accidentally stumbling across a better method, and also not from picking up tips and tricks from colleagues, or from developing your own little tweaks and tricks - but it gives you a solid, firm base that you work from.

Having the One True Method (TM) also makes teaching a lot easier. Students have to get a feeling for tools and materials as they start out, and having One Way shown to them will be easier to handle for most than getting a bouquet of methods from which to choose. It also means that you can teach a craft by rote - without having actually understood how things work, and why, in depth and detail.

Take knitting, for instance. There's a multitude of ways to arrive at a plain stockinette stitch; there's a huge number of increase and decrease possibilities. If you have a thing for motions and methods and structures, that is utterly fascinating and fun to explore. If your main goal is to make somebody a functional knitter, though, you only have to teach them knits, purls, one increase and one decrease. There, you're done, you can knit anything around. If you now standardise the way the stitches are formed by declaring one method the One True Method, it is easy to teach - you only need to show the motion. No need for understanding what happens, and how, and why. That means craft knowledge can be passed on reliably.

Again - this won't prevent people interested into structures, and people with inquisitive minds, to understand how it all works. These might go on to develop other ways, or different increases and decreases, though - depending on how much of a tradition and spread the One True Method has - that might lead to suspicious looks from the others.