I don’t like crafts. I like the end result of crafting, but I dislike being the person who completes the process that nets a bracelet, a decoupaged flour bin, a DIY chandelier refashion, etc. Or, in recent news, a macrame plant hanger. I want a gazillion of them because I prefer being able to hang plants with the appropriate drip tray, and this type of hanger is ideal. I don’t want to order them from Etsy because my demands are so specific that I dislike myself as soon as I put them into writing. So I asked my mother to teach me how to macrame so that I could make them myself. In the process, she found a trove of early-70’s hangers that she had made.
I still intend to make some myself, but it is so nice to have these wonderful vintage handmade items. There are other smaller hangers that show off some pretty intricate work, but the ones I used first (and photographed) are for large plants.
My mom can make anything out of anything. So can my sister. I grew up with endless art and craft supplies, yet my skills lie only in drawing and a brief but very intense period of painting. I guess cooking counts, and my embrace of the tedious is very apparent in my kitchen proclivities. My mom dislikes cooking and houseplants, so in that way I suppose we are complimentary? Supplementary? I just know that when I’m at her house I get sent back with plants and/or planting vessels.
I got one of my favorite pots from the parental home and immediately filled it with a plant that matched its decoration in a very literal and uncreative way.
So meta. (Such an obnoxious college thing to say, but there you have it)