A conversation between my sister and diem3 had me remember the photos I snapped of my mother’s cross-stitch projects.

I should clarify . . . in Part 1<<link, I identified her work as needlepoint, but it’s cross-stitch. I corrected that in Part 2<<link, but I repeat it here.

OK, cross-stitch . . . here’s a description (LINK) and here’s a bit of history (LINK) and some stitches (LINK).

The last cross-stitch post had mostly Christmas related projects . . . . not this time . . .

Again, it might be helpful to step back from the screen to appreciate the picture. Up close, you can see the stitches.

A conversation between my sister and diem3 had me remember the photos I snapped of my mother’s cross-stitch projects.

I should clarify . . . in Part 1, I identified her work as needlepoint, but it’s cross-stitch.

OK, cross-stitch . . . here’s a description (LINK) and here’s a bit of history (LINK) and some stitches (LINK).

The pieces I’m posting today are all Christmas related . . . and because I’m pressed for time, I’ll keep my brilliant commentary to a minimum (or completely absent).

Some of these have greetings in Italian; “Auguri” means Greetings . . . whereas Anguria means Watermelon. I know, it’s not relevant, but I wanted to put that out there for them who might be interested.

A conversation between my sister and diem3 had me remember the photos I snapped of my mother’s needlepoint cross-stitch projects.

I should clarify . . . photos of a small number of my mother’s needlepoint cross-stitch projects. So, here I am, finally posting the photos I took last September (and a few from 2017).

It’s worth noting just how much has happened in the past eleven months. The world has actually changed, and not for the better. On a personal note, we suffered the passing of my brother early in the year, something that still sucker-punches me.

I mention all this to underscore the importance — physical, mental, and emotional — of having a hobby or interest that offers an escape from the increasing bleakness of the human condition.

Hmm . . . all that seems a downer of an introduction. Let me recover . . . by telling a joke I recently read on a friend’s timeline (Facebook):

“I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather did. Not screaming in terror like the passengers in his car.”

OK, needlepoint cross-stitch . . . here’s a description (LINK) and here’s a bit of history (LINK) and some stitches (LINK).

And away we go!

Most of the ones I’m sharing are holiday-themed works, but not all.

I’m nothing if not imaginative with my titles. 

Let’s begin with the Dove (the bird, not the soap products) . . .

Click for larger version

The last time I’ve had dealings with doves was in Colorado; they used to nest in my Blue Spruce . . . which needed to be sprayed every year so it wouldn’t get eaten by various insects. 

The company who did the spraying wouldn’t spray a tree with an active nest in it and I wouldn’t get rid of an active nest so the spraying would often get delayed and the tree occasionally suffered. 

I mentioned we moved to Illinois and one of the things I have fun with is what one calls themselves when residing in a particular state. 

Illinoisian be the official answer . . . pretty boring, you’d have to agree.  

Illinoisninian or Illinoisinian are more interesting names but they might have me mistaken for being an Illinois Indian. 

Illinoisionite could fit the bill but it just doesn’t have a ring to it . . . but Illinoisianinianite carries the mystique I’m looking for as well as integrating all the other possibilities.

It’s settled; Illinoisianinianites we be.