Amazing products you can sew in fifteen minutes!*

I’m gradually adjusting to having a baby who takes actual lengthy naps in his crib (you can read more about my napping adventures on my other blog, The To-Read Pile), and also it is finally getting to be a bit spring-like outside, so I’m making a real effort to get out in the yard while Malcolm naps. But I need to bring my phone for baby-monitoring purposes. Yesterday was my first day doing this and I found that (a) I am paranoid about my phone getting wet or dirty and (b) once I start doing dirty garden-type stuff I am not keen on picking it up to carry it around with me. Also, (c) I am still somewhat paranoid that somehow something will happen to the baby even though I can see him clearly and I am no further away than when I am in the house, really. So, Violet Beaudelaire-style, I invented this vinyl pouch to put my phone in! Which solves the first two problems. The third is unsolvable.

I wasn’t sure if the touch screen would work through the vinyl, but it does. And I put two little hooks on it so I can hang it on trellises, the fence, etc. AND I learned to use the camera on my laptop so I could take a picture of my phone WITHOUT MY PHONE. And it’s not even noon yet. I’m on fire, y’all.

*Twenty-five minutes, if you count the time it took to find two matching grommets, cut tiny stupid holes in the vinyl, and remember how my grommet punch works. STILL WORTH IT.

To get a bit more philosophical, for the last few days I’ve spent a little time outside, by myself, each day, and it’s amazing how restorative that is. I know I go through this crisis every spring, the everything-is-such-a-mess, I-have-so-much-to-do panic; but if I can look past that feeling, there’s such a sense of calm and anticipation about this growing season. The way the garden wakes up in the spring is one of my favourite things. I cut back last year’s dead growth and there are little ferny yarrow plants pushing through. The fruit trees are budding. The alpine strawberries are everywhere already. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that feeling, the sense of promise that all of this will grow again.

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