I'm devestated. I did something really stupid yesterday.  I needed to do some mending, and I was too lazy to get out the Janome 6500.  I patched some work pants, and I BROKE my beloved Singer 538.

That bottom gear should measure another half inch; what's left of it is in pieces all through the bottom case.  I'm as shattered as the gear; I have so many other machines, but I've never had such perfect patchwork with any of them.

I should have known not to try heavy duty sewing on such an aged machine with nylon gears.  Metal gears would have coped fine, but these were just waiting to break, they are so brittle.  I hastened the end though.

God bless Ebay, help is at hand.

 

It will take a while to get my darling fixed, but I will sew on her again.

 Until then, I will have to use my 631, which is a lovely machine; it's a slant shank, and it's very nice to sew on.  I'm still fine-tuning the quarter inch seam, I haven't found the perfect spot to guide the fabric yet, but I'll just keep working on it.

I do like the little fold-up table at the side, it makes for a very nice work surface.

 But I still miss my 538. Sob.....

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Sometimes the opportunity to be a little bit spontaneous comes along, and you just have to go with it.  On Saturday I had plans for a day in the garden, and then in the sewing room, but at 9.30 my friend Helen rang.  She was on her own for the day, going to see some Kelpie puppies, and needed to borrow my dog crate in case she brought one home.  I offered the dog crate, and invited myself along too.  Mereth chose to stay home and work in her garden, and babysit Dolly.

Helen is the farmer friend with the chooks that I looked after earlier on this year. She works such long hours with her husband, it's hard to catch up with her, so the long hours on the drive were perfect for lots of chatting and laughter and silliness. 

 I love road trips!

And round bales, I never get used to the sight of a field full of them, it's like a Dali painting.

  We brought a picnic lunch, and travel mugs, and had a lovely day.

We were going to Tanunda, a town in the Barossa valley, right in the heart of the wine district.  It's very different countryside from our mid-north town, lots of green vineyards and trees, and an avenue of red roses that stretched for kilometres.

I love these old farmhouses, it would be wonderful to be able to live in one.

This stone building is quite amazing, fantastic use of natural stone.

We even stopped at an antique shop for a browse, lots of books and china to look at,

and to snaffle some free chairs that were on the footpath.  They have metal frames, I'll use them in the garden to get pots up off the ground, and to sit on while I water things.  I love finding useful things just waiting to be picked up.

 And I love Helen's big HiLux ute.

The puppies were four  months, tall and gangly and desperate for attention.  One of them seemed a nice sensible eager dog, and he didn't bark  constantly like the other two.  It was an obvious choice, so we loaded him into the crate and set off home.

He was a bit anxious, big eyes staring out at the changing countryside, and the new surroundings; no way to tell him he was going to a good home with three other farm dogs, a life of sheep work and hopping into the ute for exciting trips between fields and farms.  And lots of affection from Helen; she's tough with the farm dogs, but they get lots of pats and praise when they do well.  His name is Rusty, and he's a lucky dog.

It was late afternoon when we got back to Mereth's place, and she approved of Rusty, who had recovered his spirits and bounded about enjoying all the attention.  Helen went home to settle him down in his new home, and I took my dog, went home for an early tea and fell asleep at 9.  It was a big day out.

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