Back to Business

Posted in dolls by Climbing Vine Clothing

Well, it’s been a struggle getting back in the saddle, business wise. Maybe something to do with Christmas and travel and jet lag and pregnancy and home school and well, that’s seems to be enough to be getting on with. I have had second thoughts about reopening my shop at all, since there will be a new baby thrown into the mix in a few months. But after all the work it took getting things off the ground, I hate to let it go entirely. Besides which, I already have a few new orders and I wanted to show you my newest doll!

She may not seem all that different, since her face and hair are pretty much the same, but she is actually a much larger doll. There are small details as well, like the fact that her hands actually have fingers!

Since her clothing is larger, I am able to do more Alabama Chanin-esque detail work on it as well.

I even decided it was time to play around with something other than dresses for this girl.

I got a lot of feedback about my dolls over the holidays, but one thing I heard several times was that the dolls I had made were smaller than anticipated. Apparently it was difficult to tell the size of the doll from the pictures. I advertised them as twelve inches, but I admit they are a very petite 12 inches. So sorry if you were misled! My new doll is 18 inches and a big boned 18 inches at that. I decided to make a twin doll in the old size for comparison’s sake, with a measuring tape, so you can get a better idea.

It was funny making this new doll. She just seemed so overly enormous, after the delicate girls I had been working with for so long, but I like how she turned out in the end. She is quite comparable to an American Girl doll in size.

And here are a few more shots of them together- Big sister and little sister, if you will.

So there we are, back in business! I am playing around with pricing still, so if you have any questions, let me know!

8Jan2014

Uncle Tom’s Cabin

Posted in Childhood, Daily happenings by Climbing Vine Clothing

One of the things that saddens me about living so far from where I grew up is the fact that I can’t share experiences with my children that made my own childhood special. They don’t know what it is like to always live near grandma and grandpa, to have access to a wealth of playmate cousins, to be surrounded by the astounding beauties of this part of the country. I am reasonable enough to know that even if I could recreate my own childhood for my children, it wouldn’t be the same. (They are all boys, for one. They are bound to see things differently.) Nor can I deny that there are things about where we live now that I prefer to my homeland. Nonetheless, when offered the chance this vacation for a short getaway to a favorite childhood haunt, I jumped at it. I couldn’t wait for my kids to experience Uncle Tom’s Cabin. (Go ahead and snicker. That’s really what we call it.)

Uncle Tom married into our very large family when I was about 8. He brought to the family things that we had never known- a speed boat and jet skis, a beautiful waterfront home where we celebrated 4th of July, and best of all, a quiet cabin on a nearby island. We spent a lot of time there as children, exploring the Puget Sound, discovering the wonders of phosphorescence on midnight boat trips, collecting shells and learning to ignore the slimy rocks and the biting cold of the water in our determination to swim.
And when we were older, it became a tradition to spend a few days there to de-stress after a big wedding. Thankfully the tradition still holds.

I was so excited for my boys to have their first ferry ride.

I was also excited that the forecast was for a sunny weekend. To my dismay, it was cool and cloudy when we got on the boat. But as we drove off the ferry, shafts of sunlight were making their way through. When we turned down the last hill towards the coast, the last of the clouds had disappeared.
Anyone who has ever lived in the PNW knows how exciting a thing sunshine can be. For the kids, it meant jumping out of the vans and heading straight to the beach for shells and wading and boat rides, no matter that it was January.

For dad, it meant finding a chair and promptly falling asleep.

And for the rest of us, it meant long hours of sitting and pondering the light on the waves,

seeking adventure in the ubiquitous tangles of driftwood,

and hiking nearby hills for the view.

But best of all, it meant someone decided to show off.

Despite a late night of sitting around the fire roasting s’mores and stargazing, I set my alarm early the first morning, determined not to miss the sunrise, and to catch some quiet moments before eleven children came tumbling down from the upstairs loft.

As I came through the living room, I was astonished by how beautiful the scene was. I couldn’t believe that a place could be more beautiful than my sometimes exaggerated childhood memories.

But what really brought the tears to my eyes was the sight of my first born, in his pajamas, standing on the steps leading down to the water, completely entranced.

I gave him a moment, then quietly went out to join him, and we shared the experience.

2Jan2014

Finished projects

Posted in Alabama Chanin, dresses for sale, Hand made gifts by Climbing Vine Clothing

Sorry to leave you all hanging after my last blog post. I’m sure you are all on the edges of your seats, waiting to know how my projects came out!
Again, I wish I had taken better pictures of the process, but let’s just dive back in with what we have. As I mentioned before, I was tackling three projects- two scarves and a skirt for my ten year old niece. The scarves are super simple. I found two good quality t-shirts with colors that complimented each other nicely. (BTW, I am picky about the jersey I use. For the most part, I look for Pima cotton, found most often in men’s polo shirts. It is very soft and durable, and won’t pill.)
For my mom’s scarf, I chose a navy blue and a leaf green shade. For the gift exchange scarf, I used a cheery bright red and a silvery gray. Using a rotary blade and mat, I cut about a ten inch width off the bottom of my shirts, front and back. (Just make sure it’s wide enough for your stencil to fit)

I left one side still sewn together with the original shirt seam and cut the seam off the other side. Make sure your two colors are equal in length.
I won’t use this post to show you how I made the skirt, but I used the most basic Alabama Chanin skirt pattern. It’s only four pieces, and I used a soft brown, with a bright blue-green for the appliqué.

Pin the right sides of your scarf together, and sew the edges. I usually do this by hand using a simple running stitch, since my machine doesn’t handle knit cotton very well. Leave a few inches unsewn, so you can turn it inside out. (Sorry I forgot to take photos of this step!)
Once it is turned inside out, I like to sew the edges again with a running stitch. It makes everything look neater and more professional.

Now here’s where we get to use our stencils. For the navy scarf, I traced the rose stencil using a chalk pencil, since ink won’t show up very well on dark fabric.

For the red scarf, I used the medallion stencil from my book, and traced it with a disappearing ink pen.

For the skirt (not pictured), I used the leaf pattern, also from my book. You can do your stencil lay out however you choose.

Now, you can just use an outline stitch to trace the stencils and secure the front and back together. But I really wanted to make the rose stand out, so I traced just the flower onto white jersey and cut out the petals. Then I pinned the petals to the navy, using the stencil as a guide.

Then I secured them using a blanket stitch.

Once your outline stitching is done, we can do a little more to make the patterns stand out. Take your sharp little scissors and cut out the center of the leaves and medallion shapes, taking care to leave a small border around the stitching. We want to see the color underneath!

Sometimes, if the shapes are too small to cut out, I just color them in with a sharpie! Be creative!

Once, they are all cut out, you are done!

I failed to get a photo of the red one completed. My newly married sister snagged it in the gift exchange and went off on her honeymoon before I could get a shot of it. But this is the skirt, outlined, cut out, and embellished with a few buttons for fun.

It has been fun to get away from doll making for a few weeks and go back to some Alabama Chanin projects. I’m sorry if this ‘tutorial’ has been a little unclear. I will try for better pictures and instructions next time. But here is a question. I have been thinking of adding scarves and skirts to my shop. Would it be worth my time? Would you buy one?

31Dec2013

Stenciling!

Posted in Alabama Chanin, Hand made gifts by Climbing Vine Clothing

There’s no need to apologize for lack of blogging over the holidays, right? Yes? Good. Then forward we go.

I have been aiming to do sewing tutorials on my blog for some time now, and after the christmas doll rush was over, I had about a week to throw a few gifts for various family members together. I thought it would be fun to document that process, but didn’t get around to taking as many pictures as I wanted. But I did get a few. I have had some people ask about how I do the stenciling for some of my children’s clothing, etc., so I will try to explain how I do it.
I have also mentioned Natalie Chanin’s company on my blog before, and get most of my inspiration from her work. If you really want to know how to do some of this stuff, I can’t recommend these books highly enough.

Not only do they include all the clothing patterns in the back, they also include some of her stencils, like these.

I wanted to do three gifts- a simple skirt for my niece, and two scarves- one for my mother and one for the while elephant gift exchange we did with my siblings. I decided on the leaf stencil for the skirt, and the medallion stencil for the gift exchange, but wanted a different one for my mother. I looked through the books and found a lovely rose stencil.
I was excited since my mother loves roses, but it wasn’t included with the book. Fortunately, you can download printable stencils straight off of the Alabama Chanin website. http://alabamachanin.com/resources They are also available precut for purchase, but they are quite spendy, so I prefer to print and cut them out myself.
Here it is, just freshly printed.

If you want to go this route, I highly recommend a little pair of cutting scissors like these, and a little patience. Just start cutting.

Now you can use the paper stencil, but it is quite flimsy, and since this is a business for me, I prefer to make them sturdier, so I can reuse them many times. I do this by tracing the paper stencil onto a sheet of flexible plastic. You can buy stenciling plastic at most craft stores, but what I have here is actually some kind of leftover orange plastic material that my husband uses when he lays tile. Hey, waste not, want not. I don’t know what it is called, but it works great. I also have this handy dandy heat stenciling tool that melts the plastic as you cut and makes the work much faster and the end result much more professional.

This may seem like a lot of work, but I have found it really pays off in the end if you want to do more than one project with the stencil. Since I started this business, I have built up a collection of several really beautiful stencils that will last forever.

Now we get to the fun part- transferring the pattern to fabric.

But before I get ahead of myself and before this post gets too long, I want to show you what fabric I use, and how I cut it. So until next time, happy stenciling!

19Dec2013

My Mountain

Posted in Daily happenings by Climbing Vine Clothing

(FYI, there will be much nostalgia and waxing lyrical in this post. You have been warned)

I am home again. Even though in a few short years I will have lived more of my life elsewhere, the Pacific Northwest will always be home. And not just because most of my family lives here, although that is always the main draw to return. There is simply something about the land- the tall evergreens, the many fingered inlets of the Puget Sound, even the gray and overcast sky that feels a part of me.
And then there is the mountain. It is something I can never be sure of seeing when I come for a visit. It may be hiding behind the clouds- Or I may not be in the right place at the right time to catch a glimpse of it. When my in-laws came for a three week visit, they never saw it. They even drove up to the national park, and still it hid itself. I have heard visitors say it is a myth, but those same skeptics have been known to pull over to the side of a busy freeway, get out of their cars and stand with mouth agape when they are finally faced with it’s reality.
I once passed an older couple in a parking lot when I visited one summer. They were standing silent, holding each other by the hand, staring in wonder. As I passed, one of them asked me in a whisper if that could possibly be snow on that distant summit- snow in the middle of July! They were from Florida visiting family, and they had never even heard of Mount Rainier (let alone seen a hill taller than a hundred feet).I told them a little bit about it, and then left them there, still unmoved and still holding hands. I felt such a pride in the mountain, like it belonged to me, like I had some right to boast of its beauty.
I know many others who feel the same. One of my friends is quite possessive of ‘her mountain’, and when we visit, she shows us around as if it is her private property. (Granted, her ancestors were some of the earliest settlers there, so she has some right.)

On the flight home, I was keeping an eye out the window for the changes in scenery that would indicate that we were drawing near. There is usually a good chance of seeing the mountain from the seat of an airplane. I watched as we flew over the Columbia River, the dry terrain of Eastern Washington, the smaller foothills. But being distracted by restless children, I forgot to look until the captain suggested we glance out the left window. I was afraid the plane was going to tip sideways, so many passengers got up to see.

I wished for a better camera, I wished for a better angle, I wished the glass in the airplane window wasn’t so dingy, but I took as many pictures as I could. And as I snapped away, noticing Mount Baker to the left and Mount Saint Helens to the right, I began to hear people around me sharing stories of the mountains- relating the first time they had seen Rainier, various adventures they had had hiking the nearby peaks, where they were when St. Helens erupted. I was tempted to turn around and tell the people behind me that my hubby had actually climbed Rainier and that St. Helens had erupted the day after I was born (a piece of trivia I have always boasted about for some odd reason). There was a sudden camaraderie on the plane, like there often is after a traumatic event or a big storm, when neighbors who never speak to each other come outside to compare stories and damage.
It struck me what an odd thing it was, how a piece of natural beauty can draw people together like that. How the awkwardness of sitting squashed between two complete strangers in a tin can in the sky, and trying not to touch elbows can be suddenly overcome by the beauty of nature. It also struck me what a wonderful gift God has shared with all of his creatures, whether they believe in him or not. These glimpses of grandeur, of glory, of near perfection touch something alike in all of us- a longing to be near our Creator, to see His handiwork, to take pride in Creation, even though we really had nothing to do with it. It is God’s everyday gift to us all, and as my sister said, as she posted a picture this morning,
“It just doesn’t get old.”

12Dec2013

Sprouts, by request

Posted in Cooking by Climbing Vine Clothing

I had an interesting conversation on facebook last week, about the fact that my boys love to eat brussels sprouts. I had many comments of surprise, a few compliments from people who had tried my sprouts before and a request for a recipe that would avoid producing a pan full of “slime balls”. So here goes.

But first, I believe brussels sprouts have a bad reputation. Growing up, if I ever read a book about a child hating to eat his veggies, it always seemed to involve brussels sprouts, or lima beans. Therefore, I grew up with an enormous aversion to them, even though my mother never once tried to get me to eat either. In fact, I never knew anyone who ate sprouts, and such still might be the case if it weren’t for one of my sisters. She returned home from foreign lands, where brussels sprouts apparently had less of a social stigma, and served them for dinner one night. I was a little repulsed by the little mini cabbage heads, but decided to be mature about it and give one a try.
I can’t say that my life was forever changed at that moment, but the old childhood dread was overcome. I was willing to learn more about this new (to me) veggie, with it’s slightly bitter edge and pungent flavor.
I think my sister sautéed her sprouts on the stove that night, but I, who am a fan of the Pioneer Woman Cooks, liked her method of preparing them a little better (no offense sis!)
I think the key to avoiding slime balls is to avoid water at all costs. Do not boil them, do not steam them, and do not, (as the packaging suggests) microwave them in the plastic bag they came in!

Now there are two ways I do this, but they both involve roasting. Turn your oven up nice and high- about 450 degrees.
If I am short on time, I will toss them in olive oil (2-3 Tablespoons per pound) and a generous sprinkling of salt, which is very good. But there is a slightly tastier way that involves -you guessed it- bacon.
I used about 5 slices of chopped, thick cut bacon here.

Get that cooking while you prep your sprouts. You will sometimes find, in a bag of sprouts, that they vary in size, like this.

So for even cooking, I usually cut the bigger ones in half, and place them all on a rimmed baking sheet. I went ahead and used the whole two pound bag here, since we eat them like candy (and since we are leaving town and I don’t want to come back to a rotten bag of sprouts in the bottom of my fridge).

Once your bacon is nice and crispy, remove it from the pan, but save those drippings!

Pour the drippings over the sprouts with an even sprinkling of salt over the whole pan, and stir together till everything is nice and coated.

Put your pan in the oven, and let the high heat do it’s magic.

While they are in there, let me just say that roasting vegetables has become the number one preferred method of veggie preparation around here. If I can’t convince you to try sprouts, then next time you want broccoli, or cauliflower, or green beans or asparagus, just toss the chopped veggies in olive oil and salt and roast away. The heat brings out the natural sweetness in the veggies and gives them a far better flavor than steamed or boiled. I have even had success with roasted wedges of cabbage. My kids love it all! But I must say that frozen veggies do not come out nearly as well with this method, so stick to fresh.

After about fifteen minutes, they will be starting to get brown. Go ahead and stir them up a bit.

But we want them really brown, even slightly burnt at the edges, so keep roasting another ten or fifteen minutes until they look like this.

This is when the boys start wandering towards the kitchen, sniffing expectantly.
Throw them in a bowl and serve as is, or sprinkle with your reserved bacon bits.
And since it is Christmas time, try a few dried cranberries on top.

They add a sweet, tart contrast and a lovely red color that is very festive with the green sprouts. (Just ignore the grubby hand snitching from the bowl).

I hope you’ll give brussels sprouts a chance!

7Dec2013

A step back in time

Posted in Daily happenings, Laura Ingalls Wilder by Climbing Vine Clothing

I’m not sure exactly what kind of post this is going to be, but I wanted to a share a bit about the enchanted afternoon we had this week. I don’t usually post photos of my kids on this blog, but I had some fun playing around with my camera, so bear with me.

We were invited, by a friend in real estate, to tour a new housing development about twenty-five minutes from home, something I was not remotely interested in doing since I am rather busy these days. I couldn’t understand why the hubby so particularly wanted to show this place to me, but he said the boys would love it, and I, as a lover of all things Laura Ingalls Wilder, might find it interesting as well. I thought this was a strange statement, seeing as we were talking about a housing development, but we packed some snacks and took off.

We headed out of the city, out into the more rural countryside that winds around the foot of the mountain near which we live. I figured the hubby just wanted to show me some cool architecture, and since the baby had fallen asleep, I planned to stay in the warm car and take a peep from the windows. We drove down a gravelly lane and through an old gated entrance that looked as if it had been there at least 150 years. After a few more windings, I suddenly felt as if we really had gone back 150 years.
The hubby was grinning as I looked around, confused. Where was this “housing development”? It reminded me strongly of a place I had seen before, and then it struck me how much it looked like the movie “The Village”. Scary forest monsters aside, the designer of this place seemed to aiming at just that- an authentic village from yesteryear. We drove past beautifully crafted homes nestled in the woods,

An “old” blacksmith shop,

covered bridges,

and an old fashioned school house (which actually serves as the main office)

We got out and walked through the quiet woods, nestled in a peaceful valley next to a babbling brook.

We crossed the brook

We discovered a small pond that could be navigated by means of an ingenious, rope-pulled boat.

So we did what must be done and pulled that rope.

By this time, it was hard to believe we hadn’t gone back in time. It felt so dream like and peaceful, and I began imagining what it would be like to live there, surrounded by quiet nature, my boys able to run and have adventures to their hearts content instead of confined to a small inner city yard. What would life for me be like? Would I have to wear a calico skirt? Learn to milk a cow? I told myself I would be willing to do those things if it meant living in a place like this- especially a place that had such an awesome tree house.

And the king of all rope swings

But not all things are perfect.
As enchanting as the little bridges were,

they made it a little too easy to access the water, as my two youngest found out to their very wet sorrow. I hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothing since I didn’t know we would be having such adventures, so daddy’s big coats had to suffice.

But there was balm even in this, since we had brought tea and cookies and managed to find the means to light a roaring fire in the big outdoor fireplace.

And what do little boys like better than fire?

If only I had thought to bring marshmallows, but I suppose they wouldn’t have had that ring of authenticity. I mean, what would Laura Ingalls Wilder say!

4Dec2013

Closing up shop

Posted in dolls, Hand made gifts by Climbing Vine Clothing

Well folks, just a quick note to let you know the shop is officially closed for the season. After my last post on the subject, I didn’t get any orders for a week, and thought I may have scared people off with my ultimatum. I expected a lot from black friday, but nothing came that weekend, so I was pondering some kind of a giveaway, just to get a few more orders.
But lo and behold, on Monday I got slammed with seven orders, so now it’s crunch time. By the time I get them finished, it will be vacation, and then the New Year. So stay tuned for updates on my shop, but not ’til 2014.
In the meantime, I hope to post some fun holiday happenings, and maybe a few tasty recipes as well. And again, thank you all for your support of this little endeavor! Happy Holidays!

28Nov2013

Blueberry Buttermilk Pancake Cake

Posted in Childhood, Cooking by Climbing Vine Clothing

I’ve always loved the concept of brunch. It speaks of having the freedom to get up late, fix a leisurely meal, and take so long eating it that you run into lunch time. It speaks of holidays, vacations and quiet Sundays. And for me, it also speaks of my dad. My dad worked in the restaurant industry for most of his adult life, and sometimes, particularly during the busy holidays of mother’s day or Easter, he would have to work on a Sunday.
There was one restaurant in particular that had him working more often on Sundays. But when he did, that meant we got to join him at his restaurant after church for Sunday brunch. It was a very fancy restaurant called the Rose Room, and it was located on the top floor of one of the nicest hotels downtown. As a little girl, I remember the enormous feeling of importance I would get as we entered the elevator and fought over who got to punch the button for the top floor. And then we would step out into the lobby of the restaurant, which was all decorated in soft rosy pinks and sparkling crystal.
We were always made much of when we came. Six little girls in their sunday best trooping behind their mother was always a sight to see, and heads would turn as we found our way across the room to our table. Dad would come out, beaming with pride, and introduce us to some of his regular diners. He would pick up his baby and show her off as he visited different tables, and then, we were allowed to order our drinks. This was always an exciting thing, even though we invariably ordered the same drink every time- a Shirley Temple with a maraschino cherry on top.
On one memorable Sunday, before we even had a chance to order, six waiters, dressed in their crisp black tuxedos, came gracefully out of the kitchen doors, each bearing a tray held conspicuously high, with a single Shirley Temple in the center of each tray. They took a long time to reach us, winding their way through all the tables in a dignified parade, dipping and tilting their trays without spilling a single drop and drawing every eye in the room. They finally delivering our drinks individually with a bow and a flourish. We were delighted.
Then we would take our plates and move through the buffet line, skipping the cold salmon and caviar and moving on to the fruit and pastries. What can I say, my eight year old palate was not so well developed as it is now. But those were good memories, and I try to find an excuse for brunch whenever I can.
Thanksgiving works fairly well, since we don’t usually sit down until 2 or 3, but it is such a busy cooking day, that a simpler brunch is sometimes called for. I used to make the french toast casserole that can be made the night before and thrown in the oven in the morning. But then I found a recipe for blueberry pancakes that you bake in a casserole and I was intrigued. I tweaked it here and there and it quickly became a family favorite, and so, without further ado- Blueberry Buttermilk Pancake Cake.

Let’s start with our blueberries. You will need two or three cups of fresh or frozen blueberries. Toss them with 1/4 cup of sugar.

Then mash them slightly, just until they get a little juicy. Set them aside

This next step is not necessary, but it makes the dish oh so special. Get a lemon and a grater or zester.

Zest the whole rind and mix it with another 1/4 cup of sugar.

The oils in the rind mix with the sugar and will make a crunchy, lemony topping. Set this aside.

While you make the pancake, get your butter melting. Turn your oven to 350 and throw about six Tablespoons of butter into a 9×13 pan. Put this in the oven. You want your pan hot and your butter sizzling by the time the batter is ready.

The cake itself is incredibly easy. Just
2 cups of flour (I used one cup of all purpose and I cup of whole wheat here)
1 Tablespoon of baking powder and a pinch of salt.

To the dry ingredients, add
2 cups of buttermilk

And 10 Tablespoons of melted butter.

Thats it. Just mix until smooth.
Your pan should be ready by now, so pull it out.

Pour your “pancake” batter into the hot pan. The melted butter will pool up around the edges, which makes the edges of this dish something we all fight over.

Now grab your reserved blueberries and spread them over the top of the batter.

And then, if you didn’t skip this step, sprinkle the lemon sugar on top.

Bake this for 30 to 40 minutes, until the edges are a deep brown, and it is no longer jiggly in the middle. Oh, and it should smell pretty fabulous too.

See the crispy, buttery edges. Man, that stuff is good.

Serve yourself a generous plateful, and enjoy your leisure time. Or rush to pop your turkey in the oven as the case may be.

Happy brunching, and Happy Thanksgiving!

23Nov2013

Last Call

Posted in dolls, Hand made gifts by Climbing Vine Clothing

Just a quick little post to let folks know (in case you haven’t noticed ) that Thanksgiving is next week!

I ran out of the stock I had of doll blanks last week, but am working on a dozen more for any of you who were still hoping to get one before the holidays.

But seeing as time is running short, it takes me some time to make the dolls, and shipping is slower come December, I am asking that all orders be placed before the end of November if possible.

We are also going to be on vacation in just a few weeks, and I cannot take my shop with me! So if you know of anyone who wanted a doll, (or a horse or rabbit) spread the word.

If you have already placed an order, or aren’t interested in dolls per se, stick around. I am hoping to use my vacation as time to come up with some new ideas for my shop!
P.S. There may be squirrels and hippos involved.

Climbing Vine

Bloom where you are planted

Author Archives: Climbing Vine Clothing

Back to Business

Uncle Tom’s Cabin

Finished projects

Stenciling!

My Mountain

Sprouts, by request

A step back in time

Closing up shop

Blueberry Buttermilk Pancake Cake

Last Call

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