Inspired by Margaret Oomen of Resurrection Fern, I practiced a bit of crocheting on this stone I found in the car after our trip to the ocean.  It belong to Galen, but he gifted it to me.

It’s my first try and so seriously, not the best work.  But it was actually quite fun.  And probably would have turned out better without the cranky, clingy toddler climbing in and out of my lap the whole time.  We were chased outside on account of all the sneezing from the proceedings of the chimney sweep.  You’d think that after four children I would know better then to schedule the arrival of a service person to coincide with the baby’s usual nap time, but apparently I’m just a glutton for punishment on this point.  The children up in the tree (they pretty much live there now) calling me to watch them perform some mildly dangerous feat, time and again, were somewhat distracting as well.

Also, it would have been better to use new purl cotton, rather then trying to use up little strands from a bag I bought at a rummage sale, which meant attaching a new bit of cotton on four different occasions (though I do like the effect of the green ring on the bottom and I probably wouldn’t have experimented with that had I not run out of shades of white).

I started off using the new tutorial, over at the purl bee.  But my crochet hook was too big and my rock wasn’t the right size and after a bit I just kind of went my own way with it.

For now it’s hanging out on my mantle with a collection of nests and shells.