My dear friend Hilde has sent me the most lovely matryoshka doll, hand-pieced in patchwork and embellished with buttons and beads. I love it so much, and can't stop looking at it. Hilde's stitches are so tiny and immaculate.
I love the heart-shaped lips. The velvet ribbon, sprinkled with tiny beads. The little rose at the temple. Hilde is so talented, and her work is so bright and beautiful. She's an inspiration. The pattern for this doll is included in her new book, Zauberhafte Lieseleien, which you can find here. It's in German, and I hate to admit I can't read a word of it, but it's worth it for the pictures alone, and templates are all included, so you can probably figure things out.
The little beads on the edges of things are so wonderful. If you're the sort who, like me, loves to spend a whole afternoon with your workbasket, tinkering with the details of one pretty little thing, I think you'll find much to love here. Hilde sent me the doll and the book (and also some beautiful, mushroom-colored yarn!) for my birthday, and I'm telling you, I just want to dive headfirst into the scraps and beads and start making stuff right now.
In other news, there is crochet in progress, and a new striped pullover, and we've decided that this dog is half cat. She's a catdog. She gets up in the morning only long enough to look for a sunny corner to nap in. She can flatten herself out completely, like a bathmat. She sits with us, but only if she feels like it, and she doesn't particularly care to do what we ask, nor walk on a leash, nor act like she can even tell you're talking to her. She watches birds out the window, flicking her tail. She wakes up from a nap to go to bed, and once she's asleep, picking her up is like lifting a loosely-packed, forty-pound bag of warm flour. I thought she was the one and only catdog out there, until I told my friends my findings and they all said, "Oh, yeah! I had a catdog once. She chased birds, too, and pretended she didn't know me." It's a thing. Catdogs.