Amulet Bag Blues

While making this little bag I had lots of time to ponder the subject of amulets. What started as an attempt to speed up the necklace making process became a lot more complicated.

My knowledge of amulets is very sketchy, but I like the small pouches created to hold them. Thinking it might take less time to complete than my other necklaces and appeal to more people, I decided to document each step with descriptions and photos.

Each pause to take photos or make notes interrupted my work, but the biggest time consumer was weaving the back side of the bag—which wouldn't even show! It was one solid color, one weaving pattern, and one big frustration.

My original pattern was a rectangle. Trying to maintain an  even tension on the edges so the bag wouldn't taper towards the center was a challenge I failed to meet. By the time I completed the back of the piece I was so discouraged that I stopped my diary of the project before starting on the front flap. That section involved free-form weaving that would have been hard to describe; but mainly, I lost interest in writing about something I wasn't even sure I'd finish.

Thoughts of the amount of time I'd already invested prompted me to complete it—with or without notes. As with any of my projects there was a metaphor in there somewhere—appropriate for a container meant to hold meaningful items. Here are the lessons I learned (or relearned):

• Weaving (and life) doesn't always follow the plan
• With jewelry (as in life) this is not necessarily bad
• Challenges can be either frustrations or opportunities

Any amulets I might tuck away in this bag would stand for perseverance, patience and pragmatism. All were ingredients in the making of the bag, and pretty helpful in life too.

A Tribute to Mrs. Hale

As a child, I looked forward to visiting our weekend neighbor, Mrs. Hale. Her little cabin was filled with unusual things—wooden bowls, an ornate woodburning stove  and games my sisters and I didn't own. We would play Kooties,  explore in the barn and pick grape hyacinths. I once found an old horseshoe under a shrub and felt like an archeologist.

What I anticipated most was seeing her latest craft/art project. Mrs. Hale was an artist specializing in miniatures. Or perhaps she was a miniaturist specializing in oils since so many of her creations were small scale.

She painted little oil paintings (about 3" x 4") set on tiny easels made by her husband. One weekend I took an art lesson from her and painted my own miniature of a barn in winter. I was surprised to learn that snow is blue!

Crocheted dollhouse rugs, Kewpie dolls in fancy clothes made from satin ribbon—so many things. We didn't do many art projects on our visits but we did observe that pretty things didn't need to come from stores.

Mrs. Hale reinforced this valuable lesson—first learned from my parents and grandparents—that everything is made by someone, why not by you? She also taught by example, where  lessons are often disguised as adventures.

These lessons came back to me as I admired the necklaces in a book on needleweaving. They seemed too complicated to undertake—until I read the caption on one of them: First Attempt. I decided it was do-able and headed for Hobby Lobby with my supply list.

Needleweaving proved challenging, but that was part of its appeal (along with the final result). Even as I was working on that first piece, ideas for future necklaces were interrupting my concentration. Call it hobby, craft or art, creating something for yourself is not only possible, but limitless. I know it's true; I learned it from Mrs. Hale.



Postscript: Mrs. Hale often shopped at Goodwill for supplies, another lesson I embraced and a topic worthy of its own post.