We have this huge bank of windows in our living room. They take up a full wall, and they’re sort of inset – not deep enough to be window seats, but set back just enough that combined with the number of them, it’s making it very expensive to put some curtains up there. Curtains are on the list of things to eventually get, but it may be a while yet.

So the windows are currently bare, and they have these really deep sills. Deep enough for a toddler, dog or cat to sit in and stare outside, but also deep enough to be able to set some things on to help decorate that area.

We already have a Sunshine Jar there – it glows yellow when the lights are turned off after collecting solar power all day. So to complement it, and to complement the colors in the room, I made what I’m calling a Sunrise in a Jar.

These are “Lucky Bean Pods” that I painted gold, copper and reddish pink using metallic paint.

The pods themselves are very smooth, lightweight and typically dark brown. They cost about $2 for the lot of them.

I was trying to pick up colors already in the room, while purposefully choosing colors that would glow when the sun hit them, making it look like a sunrise.

When I was done painting them, I just piled them into an old vase we had sitting around. Perfect fit, and they now live on our giant window sill. When the sun hits them, they are breathtaking, and they can also be seen from the deck as you enter the house.

I used the same paints in a painting across the room (post to come later), and the colors really help to brighten up the space. In fact, I love it so much that I almost don’t want to distract from it with curtain. Almost.

Linked up with Fireflies and Jellybeans, Yesterday on Tuesday and Fingerprints on the Fridge

After we took the yarn wreath down from the doorway leading from our sunroom into the living room, the door seemed suddenly immense and very, very bare. Because I was already making some Valentine’s Day crafts to dress up the mantel, I figured, what the hell? Why not make a wreath to decorate the door with.

I initially wanted to make this larger, but finances dictated that I buy a small form, rather than a larger one. Oh well; there’s always next year and this one can be moved to decorate a wall.

This was really very simple to make. I used two 3-foot long satin sashes. I wrapped on sash around each side and used a very loose gather stitch to begin sewing it on.

Every few inches, I would pull the thread tight, which caused the satin to bunch up, making a ruffled cover for the wreath form.

When I was finished, I loved the ruffles, but felt it was a little plain, so I added a little embellishment as well. And voila! A new wreath for my door.

I used one last sash wrapped over my wreath holder because I felt it looked a little plain hung the other way. And I’m already thinking up things to replace it with for spring. I’m starting to think I’m sick in the head of something.

Partying this week at The Girl Creative, Inspire Me Monday, Craftomaniac Monday, Today’s Creative Blog, Twin Dragonfly Designs, Yesterday on Tuesday, Fingerprints on the Fridge

Somehow in all the excitement of the holidays and doctor appointments and promotions, I finished Gunne Bear’s memory quilt. It hangs in the hallway spaced perfectly between our two bedrooms so we can all see it multiple times a day.

Gunne Bear loves it; every day after his bath I carry him to his room wrapped in his yellow duck towel and we pause at the quilt at his request. He puts his head on my shoulder and points to random squares. “This?” he asks me, and I say, “Oh, that’s the onesie you wore when dipped your feet in the ocean the first time.” “This?” he says pointing to the border, “That’s the pajamas you wore on your first Christmas.” “This?” he asks me pointing to a third square, “That was a pair of overalls; they had a blue fish embroidered on them.” Eventually he nods and we continue into his room for lotion and pajamas.

This might not be the largest quilt that ever was, but it’s certainly full of the most memories. I’m so glad I made it, and I’m glad for every single memory that’s trapped inside.