Leaf Motifs in Jewelry Design

Indiana boasts over 100 species of trees native to the Hoosier state, each with uniquely shaped leaves. Sassafras and Mulberry have leaves with two or more different shapes. I've always had an interest in leaves and even looked forward to the often-dreaded school leaf collection.

You can incorporate leaf shapes in many ways, and the variety of buttons and beads using this motif makes it easy to add a little bit of nature to a needlewoven piece. Each necklace I make leaves a lesson—here's what I learned from this one . . .


Raked in from craft stores—
a pile of leafy embellishments.

Inserting buttons onto the warp isn't much different than adding beads, but placing them is. I began with a large leaf-shaped button and positioned it face-down over the pattern before stringing the warp. To make it easier to weave over, I carved out a little bit of the weaving board and inset the button.

Next, I strung the warp, going right over the button. My button had two vertical holes, so I lifted the button out of the indentation in the board and ran the pair of warp threads through the top hole and back through the bottom. Then I refastened the warp on its pin. For buttons with shanks, the pair of warp threads aligned over the button goes through the shank, just as if it were a bead.

Like the warp thread, the weaving also goes right over the button. When the necklace is finished, the button won't show at all on the back side. Unlike with beads, there's really no way to see how a button will look until the piece is turned over, and this caused some problems.

The front of the button was more olive colored than I remembered, so the thread colors I'd chosen looked better with the back of the button than the front. This necklace taught me that if I'm temperamentally unable to design every detail in advance, I'd better have a back-up plan.

Here's the back—
where's the button?

Next time I use buttons instead of beads, I'd be wise to choose the thread colors before I begin weaving. But a solution that better suits my temperament is to buy an extra button to refer to when picking fiber colors. For now, as I work on the neck straps, I can incorporate some of that olive hue and compensate for my earlier problem.

The leaves on the Tulip Trees around my home have already fallen—more from the ongoing drought than the changing season. It seems appropriate to be working on a leafy necklace design while listening to the falling leaves. I'll need to stop weaving soon and begin raking.

Here is the completed necklace—Fall Fiesta.

Whip-poor-will Memories

As fall approached, bringing respite from the summer heat, and newly-opened windows let in night breezes, I was rewarded with the far-off sound of Whip-poor-wills. I’d missed them by caving in to comfort. As I worked on my needleweaving projects in a ‘perfect’ 72° environment, I looked forward to a cooler time when I could once again sit on the porch, weaving to the sounds of birds, squirrels, chipmunks and far away trains.

The relief the air conditioner provided resulted in higher electric bills—plus an added cost. Its noise masked the night hawk’s evening serenade, a sound I’ve loved since I was very young. As a child we had plenty of windows to let in summer breezes—and sounds—since air conditioning was uncommon then.

These cooling machines condition more than the air. Isolated in our comfort zones, we’ve become conditioned to believe that nature is ‘out there’ and we feel less a part of it. It still sends an inviting message, but we no longer hear it.

I wonder what else I missed this summer in my perfectly conditioned cocoon? The Whip-poor-will has become less common around here anyway, likely due to habitat change. Without open windows will I even know if it disappears entirely?

Note: I began writing this post in late August, and as I finish it nearly two months later, my windows are shut again—this time against the fall chill.