
Please join me as I hum snatches of Handel's glorious Hallelujah Chorus. I completed a widespread search for aromatic chocolate hues and motifs late one night this week. My "J'adore le chocolat" design is no longer a figment of sustained imagination. It is a "fait accompli."
Now, a few days later, I am fascinated with all of the organic bubbles and gurgles filling my needlepoint heart. I am also astonished I was able to avoid gettting caught up in mirror imaging. (It was so tempting when I saw that paisley swirl emerge without premeditation at the bottom of the heart.)
What is most special is a wish fulfilled. I was able to be honest about my failures, and the days when I had to take a time out to gain fresh perspective. I wasn't worried about getting judgmental comments from any of you. I sensed we all share a love of handmade textiles, and a supportive curiosity about the needlepoint design process.
Before I reveal a few final decisions, I thought you might want to read about a moment in my life when I learned the enormous value of tenacity. It was a time when I had to "suck it up" day after day until a healthier solution was reached.
Shortly after my twenty-second birthday, on the afternoon of my four month wedding anniversary, I was a pedestrian in a marked crosswalk with the approval of a green light. A three quarter ton truck ran the light at 35 miles per hour and smacked into my right hip. The impact of the collision instantly propelled my body up in the air. I flew about four feet above the pavement, and landed on my right buttock half way down the block.
Fortunately, there was a bucket truck of utility pole workers who were alarmed witnesses to this rapid, crazy journey. They yelled at the elderly driver to stop. But he must have been in shock. He continued driving and came very close to running over me.
This sequence of events happened so quickly I didn't absorb the possibility of my death or being a lifelong cripple until I reached the emergency room. Amazingly, I was blessed to have no broken bones. I sustained lots of torn ligaments, tendons, plus a cardboard box containing two pulverized bakery cupcakes I clutched throughout the entire ordeal! I recuperated at home.
It took two years before I didn't feel like a horse had kicked my back. During that span of time I learned the daily discipline of "trying again," albeit within relationships, self-education, or maintaining a calm, hopeful demeanor during physical pain. It seems I can get through just about anything - accidents, divorce, or fair weather friendships if I take a short break to contemplate the possibility of Plan B.
Eighteen months ago, when I realized my first Chocolat design had to be tossed, I removed all of my preliminary stitches, and deliberately used the same canvas for further attempts. I slowed down the whole "stitch and decide if this is a keeper" process to encourage more opportunities for observation and reflection.
Even so, there were many times this summer when I felt discouraged with my artistic progress. Personal faith returned when I began to visualize a few days beforehand what color or shape was needed in the next unstitched area of the canvas.
The evolution of this newly acquired skill reached a zenith within the area surrounding the individual letters spelling chocolat during late August. I had noticed how my eye was attracted to the undulations of "peak and valley" spacing. It seemed as though the canopy of pale orange stitches above the word encased it, and enabled it to be read correctly from a distance within the pale taupe background.

Once that area was completed I needed to rip out stitches to the left and the right of chocolat. They were the same intensity in value as the taupe. And they didn't provide any contrast patterning.
Lots of careful snipping ensued. Then I punched up the buttressing motifs with brighter oscillations of scarlet, vermillion, and ebony swirls. C'est bon!
In hindsight, I discovered I made substantial progress once I fell into a nightly routine of needlepointing for about 45 minutes an hour before bedtime. I didn't look at my progress until the next morning. I was surprised by my lack of panic whenever the overall design looked misaligned. And there were many times when I realized I just needed to look at the embroidered canvas in full daylight!
This weekend I will initiate the final stage of this project. This endeavor includes blocking my finished canvas, calculating the best dimensions for the pillow it will be appliqued on, and sewing the cushion myself.
The dynamic rust/amber/chocolate brown African cotton batik I photographed for Eau de Chocolat, Part III has been tucked away for another project. Though beautiful and inspiring, it has the same level of detail as my final version of "J'adore le chocolat!" It would distract any viewer who valued clarity.

During this final week of stitching I discovered a bolt of scarlet/orange silk damask (dress weight) at Nancy's Sewing Basket. I hope the subtle repeat pattern of acanthus leaves will evoke thoughts of the cocoa bean in tropical environs. It could also showcase my passion for dark chocolate (whenever it is melting, smelt, or consumed.)
However the pillow is constructed it will be important to design a gradual progression of hues from the foreground of the heart to the background fabric. My question is how? Once again, Sherlock Holmes' game is afoot!
This original design emerged from many episodes of intuition and experiment. It reminded me of the days after my accident when I learned what I was incapable of doing. One time early in recovery I tried to take an independent shower while my husband was at work. I was able to hoist my leg over the edge of the tub. But ten minutes later, when the water was shut off, I couldn't repeat the motion.
Visions of being trapped there until he came home were highly realistic. So I experimented. I lowered myself inch by inch to a seating position on the rim of the bathtub and waited a while. My next goal was to reach up for a towel to dry off. With incremental progress I walked out of the bathroom about an hour later - just like my needlepoint tribute to honor le chocolat.