Forget the fancy flowers. We are the dreamers of dreams. Give me a thought.
We made a valentine banner. Constructed out of felted wool sweater and cotton fabric scraps and remnant bias tape, it’s printed with thoughtful notes to each other. Simple to make.
Printing on fabric requires an ink jet printer, thin cotton fabric (I just use remnant drapery liner) and freezer paper.
Here are the steps:
- Trim the fabric slightly larger than 8 ½ x 11 inches.
- Place the fabric onto an ironing board (or thick towel).
- Place the shiny side of the freezer paper onto the fabric.
- Iron. Two will become one.
- Trim the fabricky paper to 8 ½ x 11.
- Treat it like a normal piece of paper and place it into your printer with the proper sides up and down. Print your image.
To make a banner like ours, cut the printed material into the desired shape, peel off the freezer paper and sew to a sturdy material (like wool or felt). Cut two small openings in the back of the material and carefully slip bias tape through using a safety pin as a guide.
A simple haiku can get you through the winter and then some.
One has eyes that laugh like moons, a dimple, and full lips that whistle just one single piercing note. She is sharp and lively, and ready for battle. The other one has a quietness that moves right through me. Her steps are still and steady. She is deep and contemplative, and tenderhearted.
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I worry. Sometimes after a challenging day, I hold a small hand and look into those wild-earth teary eyes and I am sad. Sometimes I say I’m sorry that the world is not perfect, that tragedies happen everyday, that people can be unkind, that people suffer. People we’ve never met. People we know. People we see everyday.
My girls. Mostly, I want the world to accept and appreciate them. To pay attention to them, compliment their uniqueness, listen and respond to them, encourage and help them when they struggle, laugh and cry with them, high-five them, teach them when they don’t understand, and recognize all the good they have to give. To love them.
Life moves on, and quickly, and there will be more tears. But always there is us. Our family. And we embrace this and make something out of it. Life moves on, and so we celebrate the moment. We unwrap the small, secret gift of everyday. The messy, the comical, the unexpected.
We celebrate big milestones, of course—birthdays, anniversaries, holidays—but we also celebrate small moments. The clean plate, the book read, the first crocus blossom, the last snowflake, the new friend—all have the potential to be acknowledged in some small way.
We keep banners on hand for momentous occasions, constructed out of fabric scraps and remnant bias tape. We have special hats to be worn by special friends. And a big big ribbon to wear. No four-layer cake, ice sculpture or elephant ride—a simple hand-written note placed under a pillow or in a lunchbox or in a small hand will do just fine. Or a smile. Just a smile. And so, as time flies slowly by, we will hold tight to our family and know that we are lucky. I feel lucky. I feel there is a story here so beautiful that we will someday tell. And look, we get to live it.
Hurray! Hats off to today!