There was a bit of a storm this weekend – weaker than forecast, but enough to blow down most of the leaves on the cherry trees. For a brief week or so, the fallen leaves are bright yellow and crisp. Soon enough they’ll turn into brown sludge.

Our embroidery club had an exhibition – a first for us. We borrowed space at the Olle Olsson Hagalund museum, a museum dedicated to an artist and housed in what used to be his home. An outbuilding labelled “the little workshop” has two small rooms that they use for various temporary exhibitions.

The exhibition was up for about a month, but it took me until today – the very last day – to get there, because the opening hours were very limited. Wednesdays and Sundays, noon to four PM. The other group members, who were all rather more interested and excited about having an exhibition, split up the days between them to ensure that someone was present at all times, to keep an eye on the rooms, answer questions, chat with the visitors etc. Most of them are retired, which does rather make it easier for them.

One of the pieces of my triptych got to be the face of the exhibition, on the official poster.

There were nine of us participating. The first thing visitors were met by was a garland with our names – embroidered, of course.

The rooms were cosy but I have to say, the lighting was pretty atrocious. There were small spotlights that together lit up maybe half of each wall. I really struggled with photographing it.

This is the “black and white” wall, and also the “inspired by Renée Rudebrant” wall. My triptych is one of three.

This wall is mostly (but not only) embroidery on fabric we’ve first printed or painted.

The “Stockholm” wall.

Miscellaneous other objects that couldn’t be hung on a wall were propped up here and there.

Picked Japanese quince for about ten minutes. Cleaned and de-seeded quince for what felt like hours.

It’s very obvious that the seeds and the fibrous inner walls of the core have got to go. I’m less sure about the lining of the core. It’s so tough that it takes an effort to cut through, so I’m guessing it should be removed, but it’s also the thing that takes the most time and effort – I can only work with the very tip of the knife blade in those tiny, curved spaces, and I end up with cramping fingers. On the other hand, I don’t want to cut corners and end up with a result that’s less than enjoyable to eat, so I’ve been diligently removing as much of it as possible. Maybe some year I’ll experiment with skipping this for part of the batch.

I was so sure that I usually do this project earlier in the season, and the fruit looked darker and larger than I could remember them being. Some were the size of small apples, others had acquired a brown tone. But when I check past years’ postings here, mid-to-late-October is about normal. Maybe they matured earlier this year because of the warm weather.

Last year’s attempt did not end in any candied quince. I think maybe the recipe was originally for real quince, even though it was supposedly also suitable for Japanese or flowering quince. Especially the step about simmering the fruit for a few minutes to soften it.

Now I found a recipe online that was absolutely and definitely and very specifically for flowering quince. This one is very simple. Instead of making a syrup and pushing more sugar into it every day, it just combines the fruit with an equal amount (by weight) of sugar and lets it rest for 36 hours. That’s it. It sounds too good to be true, but I’m giving it a try. (1250 g of cleaned fruit and 1250 g of sugar.)

The annual crafts fair at Älvsjö – a giant hall full of vendors of fabric, yarn, notions, other crafts materials, and things that might in general appeal to craftsy people.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to go. On the weekend it’s too crowded. Is it worth taking half a day off work? I don’t need any yarn or fabric right now, and speculative buying doesn’t work out for me. Then I decided to approach it more like a museum visit – a couple of hours of looking at (and touching!) pretty hand-made objects.

I did also have a short list of things I could buy: sock yarn in useful colours (bought 1), fabric for linen trousers (nothing that was worth buying), fabric for a tote bag (yes), fabric scraps (yes) and clearance yarn (no).

Mostly, though, I came home with dozens of photos that I’m storing in my inspiration folder.

Adding more leaves. I was going to fill the whole maple leaf but tired after a while, so now it has two different halves. The latest leaf might be too yellow to stand out, but it’s OK.

You know what would be nice? If the designers of wall-mounted fire alarms could agree on the size and shape of the bracket you mount on the wall. Or at least the distance between the screw holes, so that I didn’t have to make new holes every time a fire alarm expires and needs to be replaced. Even if I buy one from the same shop, they’ve switched suppliers or come out with a new model or something, and nothing matches.

A ballet evening at the Royal Opera.

Medhi Walerski’s Chamber. Wild and primal – a review I read likened it to The Rite of Spring. Interesting.

Alexander Ekman’s Cacti. This guy has a brain that just doesn’t stop. Every minute something new is happening, he keeps thinking of new ways to use the body and the scene and the decorations. Captivating and memorable. I will never grow tired of him.

I watch orchestras with a different eye now that Adrian plays percussion. The setup for Chamber had almost a quarter of the orchestra pit set aside for percussion instruments, and four people to play them all.

Another Monday afternoon to while the time before the bugg class. Today was a rare sunny day – it’s been quite grey recently – so I went back to the cliffs at Fredhäll. This time I walked them from one end to the other, and then back again.

A month ago I sat and watched the sun descend on the other side of the water. Today the sun went all the way down, below the horizon, before I finished the walk.

There was a barely-there path about halfway up the cliffs – or sometimes further up or down, depending on where it was easiest to walk. On the steepest bits, there was a thin guardrail for support. I liked its minimalism. It was just enough so that you could walk (not scramble) up and down. It was not there to make this a comfortable walk for all comers.

Most bread I bake goes straight into the freezer. I rarely manage to time my baking so that the bread is ready to serve at the same time as a bread-friendly meal. Bake it, slice it, freeze it.

Except for the ends. No matter what time of day the bread gets done, if it’s a nice crusty loaf, we cut off and eat the ends as soon as the bread has cooled, instead of freezing them. The kinds of bread I bake are perfectly good when thawed in a microwave, but the crust loses its crispiness. It’s too good to waste, so it has to be eaten when it’s fresh.

I don’t give Nysse human food, except for letting him lick clean packages and dirty dishes. He’s not allowed on the clean side of the kitchen counter, but anything in the sink is fair game. Today he got a weekend snack served in the form of the foil packaging from an Estonian kohupiimavorm, baked quark, since I took a trip to the Baltic grocery shop in Sollentuna.