I doodle in stitch - but never with a pencil. I have no idea why.
It's where I go when there is not a lot else to do or when down time is needed. It's where I can stitch in repose without explanation or justifying to myself the time spent. I just work the needle as the spirit moves me, making marks and shapes in response to the cloth - and such therapy it is.
Here is the latest little morsel - a response on a simple little piece of monoprinted cloth that I blogged about in September. In reality, the stitching is more visible and gives much more surface texture - but it seems unwilling to let me photograph it properly.
To me, it suggests perhaps a Cotswold stone wall, warm in the sun, with its nooks and crannies and secrets ... but then really it matters not at all what it is. Being something is not its purpose.