I want to live in a world where people are intoxicated with the joy of making things. – Wm. S. Coperthwaite
I want to live in that world too. But sometimes, well, sometimes it seems like we must have actually BEEN intoxicated when crafting.
A certain little yurt-dweller recently turned four years old. Her parents were both intent on creating something for her special day.
Her dad set about making little stuffed animals…
…one attempt was a pig that ended up missing two legs.
… another was a rooster whose tiny legs and large behind meant he could not actually stand up. Maybe a really heavy comb would balance him out…
…another was a duck that was agreed looked a bit more like a banana than a bird. There was hope that adding a beak might tip the odds back. But also thanks that bananas are conveniently a favorite of the birthday girl.
Surely there has never been so much cursing during stuffed animal making.
BUT, in the end a tiny pink pig was born. With four legs.
Success! A twin was even made.
And that little birthday girl was over the moon about her pigs. Wanting to sleep with them. Even the two-legged version became a loved big “momma” to the tiny ones. (I was told the picture below is, of course, the two-legged momma giving birth to a tiny pig…)
Her big brother coveted them too, leading to pig sharing and pig negotiations that included sage parent wisdom such as:
How can it be teasing for her to say that she has one when you already have a pig hiding in your bed somewhere?
That four year old girl’s momma wanted to sew her a dress. A birdy dress with the fabric the girl picked out.
But despite picking a pattern that said “beginner” and “can be done in an afternoon,” after several afternoons and much pattern re-reading (and no alcohol), somehow the front of the dress and the back of the dress did not actually line up. Hm.
With a little shifting here and a little tucking there, well, it looks and performs enough like a dress.
One that the little girl wears for two straight days and asks if she can sleep in….
Not perfection, but worth it in the end.
I’m beyond curious to see if our handmade home ends up more little pig, more big-butted rooster, or more tucked-here-and-there-to-fit dress… I do know that it will not be perfect. That the process already is and will be frustrating and confusing, with moments of realizing key pieces are missing, and other moments where it is not clear how it will all line up…
In the end, I imagine these are not the parts we’ll remember most. I imagine the intoxicating joy of the creation…and wanting to sleep in it every night…
We dared to believe that ordinary untrained people could make their own homes as birds build their own nest. – Helen Nearing