The Peony and the Hanging Pod

My latest piecing is finally finished and this one actually came together really speedily (about three weeks), which isn't something that I find myself writing often! I finished it sitting in the new garden hanging pod that my husband bought for me and which I adore. I've actually been longing for one of these pods for the last three summers and our conversation around it always went something like this:

Me: Don't you think those those hanging pods are completely dreamy?

The Delectable Mr Teacakes: Yes

Me: Do you think we should get one then?

TDMT: No. 

Me: Why not?

TDMT: Because only one person can sit in it at a time; we'd fight over it.

This conversation was repeated again this year, but with the addition of the following lines: 

Me: Why don't we get a hanging pod and all say that it's just my pod and then no one will argue over it?

TDMT: Oh, go on then!

I was quite shocked that TDMT would reward this kind of selfish reasoning, but you'll find below that it's all worked out for the best!

The effect of the hanging pod theoretically belonging to one person has meant that sitting time has actually been distributed evenly amongst bottoms, because each person has felt delighted to be able to borrow the pod and I've enjoyed thinking 'Yay! People look so happy in my pod! It was a WISE purchase'. I think it may actually be the Pod of Happiness. I don't look happy in the photo below, but that's because I'm concentrating - I was totally happy inside. The pod is perfectly positioned to watch my son doing footballing-related tricks on the lawn. So it goes something like this: stitch, stitch, stitch, observe and admire bit of footballing skill, stitch, stitch, stitch, observe and admire bit of footballing skill, and in this way, it is the perfect place to practise any opticians suggestion when doing close-work of frequently looking up to switch between short and long-range vision. It is nothing short of heaven and the best purchase we've made for several years...possibly several decades (which means that not since I saved up for many months to help my sister to buy a Cloud Mobile for her Carebears has there been such a fine purchase)!

So here's one final close-up shot of my flower, which I think would probably be a peony if it were anything.

Totally off-topic (topic being hanging pods with a side of English paper piecing), I came across this little video today made by the Good Housekeeping Institute, which I have now watched about 45 times. My mind is blown.

But enough about impressive t-shirt folding feats, back to garden furniture. Sadly, the addition of the hanging pod has not solved our outdoor dining problems.  Our garden furniture now comprises of: 1 dreamy hanging pod; 1 wooden bench that lives in easy chatting distance of the hanging pod; one wooden table with two attractive, but broken (and therefore largely unusable) wooden chairs on the patio away from the pod and bench. If we want to eat outside, rather than risk death by sitting on one of the attractive-but-broken wooden chairs, we tend to sit on the lawn together (also necessary because two chairs isn't enough for four people to eat a) sociably b) without perching, which isn't conducive to relaxed dining). This isn't ideal, because it means that we have to lock Nell inside while we eat. Shockingly, while Nell doesn't steal food inside, outside with people sitting at her level she appears to believe that the Laws of the Wild apply and that snaffling things off people's plates and then inhaling them before they can be prised from her jaws is fair play (The prising would only serve the purpose of Nell not being rewarded for stealing; not because I'd want the food back for myself!). This is why even though the pod is loved by all, ultimately, it was a highly indulgent purchase. To justify it, I will now attempt to spend the entire summer in it, even when it's raining. This is actually feasible, as the half-egg shape means that the hood protects against laptop screen-glare in bright sunlight and light drizzle in less clement weather. 

Florence x