Our creepy, bare concrete walled basement is our storage for all things unused at the moment. Photo albums, keepsakes, games and toys to switch out, fabric: all downstairs. Most of it is stored in plastic tubs, having learned the hard way that cardboard storage invites damp and mold. It's a pretty good storage, as long as the tubs are sealed tight.
Having no sump, however, means if we get water on the floor, the whole scenario changes. Next week The Man will be bringing in some pallets to stack our bins on. In the meanwhile, I am inventorying what stuff is lurking down there, and perhaps slimming out any unloved materials.
Which is where I found this little batik I did, oh, I think it would of been about fourteen years ago, along with a bazillion drawings. Way back when, when it was possible to have a hot pot of wax on the stove and a project that could go through multiple stages without worrying about small hands being burned or spilling dyes.
The batik itself is about a foot square. I couldn't sew back in those days but now I think I could incorporate this panel into something. A pillow? Quilt square?
I'm still a little amazed at how I once had enough time to pull this off. I'm looking forward to the day that the childs are old enough to start playing with batik. It's such a beautiful craft, one that I myself would like to revisit.