January 1 - 5, 2013

       I wear brooches. It's something that I have in common with the Queen of England - granted, hers are of a royal pedigree and mine are of a Heinz 57 variety. I've worn them off and on since my childhood in the fifties and for many years now every morning I rattle around in the jewellery box looking for a brooch that suits my fancy, or sometimes it's a quick grab, try hard not to impale myself with the pin and off to work I go.
       So here they are, a brooch a day.

One of my favourites, I loved it when I was a kid, and I love it still. I've always wondered why the paper clock is at 8:18. Was the designer marking a special moment? The romantic in me says yes.

Friends give me brooches. You hug them, thank them and occasionally wear the brooch. Being a lover and collector of  brooches, pretty much anything goes - except for clowns - and I will not apologize for that! Until I saw this photograph, I did not appreciate the intricacy of the design.






A little metal bird, one of three that I have, it's lighter than air.


















I like to rug hook; it challenges me, stirs my creative spirit; massages my ego when someone loves my work. 
I like this sheep with its curly curly starry starry night swirls. And I think of all that glorious wool. 








I like the hustle and bustle of London England. Many years ago on a belated Honeymoon to the British Isle and Paris we found a store in the Underground that catered to the likes of us - tourists -. I bought a few bus brooches - here's one of them.