Stir it up Sunday is something my grandmother introduced me to.  Before launching into all the rush of Advent and associated Christmas preparations, we have Stir it up Sunday.  It takes it's name from a 1549 prayer

"Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded;"

While this could trigger all manner of contemplation, this talk of stirring and fruit sounds suspiciously like pudding. Since the 1800's Stir it up Sunday, has been known as the perfect time to be making Christmas pudding.

Gran took great pride in sharing traditions with me.  As she told me all about this day, she smiled conspiratorially, and told me she had already made her puddings.

Given the day and all it's traditions, it could only mean a trip to Grandma's, my mother, for the girls to Stir it Up.

Measuring

Making bread crumbs

Cutting liners

Stiring it Up

And finally - the first cooking

I may be many things, but a bird fancier I am not.  Instead I am content to admire these sweet and proper budgies.  I picked up the books from the local church fair for their illustrations.  

There's a certain poetry to the collective nouns of birds.  A chatter of budgies or even a chattering.  The canaries, I have been told, like to hang out in an aria or even an opera.  It has me wondering what names I would choose if given a chance to name, say, a group of collectors, sewers or thrifters? Given a weakness for simple alliteration I'm thinking perhaps a clutter of collectors, skein of sewers, and throng of thrifters.

 These ladies have been waiting a very long time to get their skirts.  But don't they look so happy now?  They were left in painted on hot pants for over a year, as I tried to work out how to make them stand up.

The original plan was to hand turn some wooden bead and route out a centre that let each doll stand.  The problem was I haven't touched woodwork since manual training and have no idea where to find a freindly wood turner.  In the end, it was air dry clay to the rescue with hand molded bases holding each lady.  They look just about ready to start singing

A little stitching, a little pattern and I now have my very own La Cigale.  It's a lavender filled cicada, to fill a wardrobe with summery fragrances and memories of a lovely Le Rouvray.  The pattern went together beautifully.  I think the next one deserves some sort of hanging loop as well.

I'm busting out the fabric stash.  Aunts, avert you eyes as your Christmas presents may be looking a lot like this.