My first (sort of) foray into visible mending

When Brian's jeans wear out, it's generally the knees that go first. Years ago, I discovered I could deal with that problem by sewing a pocket from an old pair of jeans over the ripped area. At this point, most of Brian's jeans have such a patch over at least one knee.

With this technique, I'm able to keep the jeans in service long enough for them to start wearing out in a different area: the back pockets themselves. Specifically, the left back pocket, where he keeps his wallet. Apparently the friction of the wallet against the fabric, particularly as it's inserted and removed, is sufficient to wear little holes into the material. They're not usually big enough for things to slip through, but they're unsightly.

This week, it occurred to me that maybe these smallish holes would be good candidates for visible mending. While conventional mending aims to keep the patched or darned area as inconspicuous as possible, visible mending takes just the opposite approach, turning it into a decorative feature. There are several methods for doing this, including:

• Patching with one or more contrasting fabrics.
• Darning with one or more contrasting colors of thread or yarn.
• Applying a plain patch and then covering it with decorative top-stitching.
• Embroidering directly over a small hole.

Technically, my pocket patch technique is itself a form of visible mending, since it turns the patch into a feature rather than attempting to disguise it. But for these holes in the pockets, I thought I could attempt something a little more visible. Any repair in such a prominent area was bound to be noticeable anyway, so I thought I might as well make it look intentional. 

The hole I planned to tackle was on the larger side—large enough to poke a finger through, anyway—so I thought it would require a patch rather than a darn. But what to use for a patch? I habitually save worn-out jeans and trousers, but the material from those is pretty plain, not vivid enough to make an interesting contrast. I was also concerned about my ability to make a neat-looking patch. To keep it from fraying, I'd probably have to hem it, and anything hemmed by hand (the only way I can do it) is liable to come out looking a bit lumpy. 

I thought maybe a piece of wide ribbon would work, so I started going through our collection of gift wrappings, and there I happened upon a little Christmas stocking ornament that Brian had received years ago as a gift. It was made of red felt, with a burlap section at the top embroidered with Brian's name. Since we never have a full-size Christmas tree ourselves (they're not really compatible with adventurous cats), we didn't have a place to hang it, so it had just been sitting in amongst our wrapping materials. Could this make a reasonable decorative patch?

I decided there was only one way to find out, so I snipped off the top section, trimmed its edges, and started whip-stitching it onto the damaged pocket. Since the idea was for the repair to be visible, I used a cheery red thread that matched the flannel. The loose ends of the burlap poked out a bit, but I was able to tack them into place with some extra stitches. 

So now, Brian owns a pair of jeans that are (a tad ironically) monogrammed on the butt. It remains to be seen how well this patch will hold up in the wash; since I didn't follow the standard advice to use a type of fabric similar to the original garment, it's possible the material will end up fraying or puckering. But if it does, it shouldn't be too hard to pick out the stitching and replace the patch with something more suitable.

Of course, no sooner had I finished making this repair to the pocket than Brian discovered the other knee of the jeans—the one that wasn't already sporting a pocket patch—was starting to fray, so I had to patch that as well. On top of that, there was another worn area, higher up on the thigh, which I couldn't easily repair. So it's possible the jeans themselves won't last long enough for the patch to wear out. On the other hand, it's also possible that if this repair does work out, I could expand my visible mending techniques to other areas of the jeans as well.

I'd like to attempt a darning-style repair next, possibly on the other pair of Brian's jeans that currently has a damaged pocket. However, it appears that to make this look good, I'd need either embroidery floss or tapestry thread, as regular sewing thread is too thin to show up well. So this experiment may need to wait until I can get myself to a fabric store and pick up some additional supplies to play with.

 

[UPDATE, 3/19/24: As it turns out, my fear that this little burlap patch wouldn't stand up well to washing was too optimistic. It didn't even make it to its first washing before it began to fray around the edges. It was only the burlap that was damaged, not the underlying felt, but when removed the burlap, the plain red felt patch looked kind of silly by itself. So I removed that too and went hunting around for something better to replace it. 

After searching all the rag bins without success, my eye hit on an old flannel shirt of mine that I'd been keeping downstairs in the laundry room. It was already torn in a couple of places, so I'd relegated it to grubby-job duty. But it had plenty of good fabric on it, and after a little examination, I spotted a section that looked like it would make a perfect ready-made patch: the flap on one of the front pockets. I carefully snipped it off, sewed the little buttonhole closed, and then stitched it in place over the entire bottom of the damaged jeans pocket.

I think this new flannel patch looks much nicer than the previous one, and I believe it will hold up better too. And Brian loves it.]

Recipe of the Month: Roasted Leek and Cauliflower Pasta

February's Recipe of the Month came about because of a fortuitous find: sale-priced cauliflower at Lidl. Brian didn't have any particular need for cauliflower, but he couldn't pass it up. As a result, he ended up cruising the Internet searching for vegan recipes that used both cauliflower and leeks, which we also had on hand. And when he came across the Roasted Leek and Cauliflower Pasta recipe at Lazy Cat Kitchen, he decided it looked like a winner.

As per usual, Brian made a few minor modifications to this recipe. He increased the volume of veggies slightly to use up our entire medium-to-large cauliflower and two medium leeks (as opposed to the half a large cauliflower and two "smallish" leeks called for in the original). He also increased the volume of pasta from 7 ounces to 8 in order to use up a half-box of whole wheat penne we had sitting around. He left out the capers, which we didn't have, and cut the amount of black pepper down from a quarter-teaspoon to just a couple of grinds. And since we didn't have either dairy-free cream or cashews to make a homemade cashew cream, he mocked up his own substitute by blending soft tofu with soy milk.

But his most significant change was deciding to frizzle the leeks—that is, sauté them briefly in oil before browning them in the oven, à la Molly Katzen—rather than soaking them in boiling water before roasting them. He put them on a separate baking sheet so he could remove them from the oven when they were done, rather than spreading them alongside the cauliflower and having to remove them once cooked. Besides being less work, this was a technique we were already familiar with and knew would give us good results.

And good indeed were those results. The dish was packed with flavor: tart lemon juice, cheesy nutritional yeast, and fragrant frizzled leeks and garlic. The contrast between the tender veggies, chewy pasta, crunchy toasted walnuts, and silky, creamy sauce added plenty of texture interest. And between the nutritional yeast, the walnuts, and the tofu in the sauce, it provided enough protein to fill us up despite the lack of any meat or meat-alternative component.

Good as it was, I don't know if this dish will become a regular addition to our repertoire. We can't count on finding cauliflower on sale all the time, so we'll probably save this recipe for cauliflower season, which around here is from September through December. Fortunately, leeks are also in season at that time, and this warm and savory meal will be just right for crisp autumn evenings.

The Dress Retro challenge: results

Last April, I announced my plan to take the Dress Retro challenge: purchasing no more than three new garments for myself over the course of 2023. I noted at the time that in the preceding year, I'd bought only four new garments—three if you counted my "sleep shorts" as underwear—without even trying, so I thought I would have no problems limiting myself to three if I worked at it. And I can now officially announce that the number of brand-new garments I bought myself in 2023 was...zero.

That doesn't mean I purchased no clothing at all. I bought a couple of secondhand pieces from thrift shops and ThredUP, but the challenge doesn't place any limits on those. I also bought one new bra, one pair of sandals, and several pairs of boots, most of which I ended up returning because they didn't fit. (I'm currently using a $40 pair from Walmart that doesn't really fit; they're far too long, but at least I can get my feet into them and they don't leak.) But shoes and undies don't count as clothing under the rules, so technically, I passed the challenge with flying colors.

However, zero is only the number of new garments I purchased for myself. After Brian embarked on his wardrobe makeover in September, I splurged on a few new items for him. Although I didn't want to buy everything from fast-fashion sites, I did succumb to the charms of one pair of color-blocked shorts from LightInTheBox because they fit so well with the new style he was aiming for. Unfortunately, summer was almost over by the time they arrived, so he still hasn't worn them. I later ordered him a couple of medieval-style lace-up shirts, neither of which has been worn either. The first one looked cool online but turned out to look, in Brian's words, like "wizard pajamas" in person, and the second was in a linen-like fabric that looks much nicer but is too lightweight for winter. So if you count all the clothing I bought for both of us, not just for me, I only just managed to stay within the three-garment limit. Moreover, I blew the entire budget on items that haven't even been worn yet, including one that will most likely never be worn at all. 

And this, I guess, emphasizes the point that the authors of the challenge were trying to make: fast fashion kind of sucks. With their low prices and vast selections, these websites make it far too easy to buy clothes that you don't really need and may not like at all once you see them in person. And since they're usually shipped from China, it's often too costly to return them—so they either sit around taking up space in your drawers or get discarded and sit around taking up space in a landfill.

So, based on this experience, I think I've learned my lesson about shopping on these sites—for me and Brian both. Hunting through thrift-store racks may be more hit-and-miss, but at least it's possible to tell the hits from the misses. I won't have to pay money up front just to try something on and pay again to return it—or maybe just be stuck with it—if I don't like it.

Gardeners' Holidays 2024: Pruning Day

Every year, one of the first jobs on our garden to-do list is pruning our plum trees. I've been dreading this task somewhat, as over the past couple of years our trees had become badly infected with what I assumed was canker, causing knobbly black growths like giant warts around their branches. All three trees had it to some extent, but the Mount Royal in particular hardly seemed to have a single branch that wasn't affected. 

However, when I tried researching tree canker to figure out the best way to tackle this, I began to realize that the growths on our trees didn't look much like the cankers in the pictures. I started searching for info on other problems affecting plum trees and eventually figured out that what ours actually had was a fungal disease aptly named "black knot." Sources on the Web disagree on how serious a problem this is. The province of Alberta warns, "The fungus continues to grow internally and externally, with the branch eventually becoming girdled and dying," while the University of Minnesota Extension says, "Many Prunus trees tolerate black knot. Tolerant trees have many galls throughout the tree with few negative effects on the health of the tree." Minnetonka Orchards takes a middle ground, saying "The tree may suffer from decreased fruit production, structural damage, and ultimately death if the infection is severe," but adding that "Mature trees are more resilient and may survive without any noticeable ill effects."

Based on the extraordinarily productive season we had for plums last year, my guess was that the disease wasn't affecting our trees too badly. I decided we wouldn't try to remove every single branch that was infected (which would probably be impossible anyway), but we'd take off the worst offenders. And, at the same time, we'd also prune out out any branches that were problematic in other ways: overlapping, inward-pointing, or in danger of impinging on the house, driveway, and sidewalk.

Unfortunately, this measured approach proved hard to stick to. We kept finding more and more branches that seemed to fall into the "worst offender" category, especially on the Mount Royal. We definitely violated the rule against cutting off more than one-quarter of the tree's crown, and eventually we just had to force ourselves to stop before we stripped it completely bare. Even now, in its largely denuded state, it still isn't entirely free of galls, but it looks a lot cleaner than it did before. And since our trees seem to operate on a two-year cycle—incredible productivity one year followed by nothing at all the next—it should have over a year to catch up and produce new, healthy growth before our next plum harvest.

Meanwhile, we had to dispose of the huge pile of pruned-off branches. All the sources I consulted emphasize that it's important to destroy branches infected with black knot as soon as possible, as they can otherwise continue to shed spores and spread the fungus. We planned to burn them in our little backyard fire pit, but the wood was too moist to light. Brian ended up having to supplement the fire with sticks from our stock of seasoned wood to get the plum branches dry enough to burn. Eventually he managed to destroy most of the diseased wood this way, leaving a small pile of healthy wood for later use.

There's still more to be done to prepare for the upcoming gardening season—pruning the rosebush, for one, and laying out the beds for the vegetable garden—but with all the cutting, hauling, and burning of branches, I think we've had enough of a yard-workout for one day.