Gay Ann Rogers

Gay Ann Rogers

Gay Ann Rogers

Gay Ann Rogers

Needlework Designer/Teacher

Needlework Designer/Teacher

Needlework Designer/Teacher

Needlework Designer/Teacher


Logo of scissors, needle, thread, thimble, crown

My World of Needlework


Half way through September and soon it will be October.


October is always a super-busy month because of

E-Week, usually my biggest sale of the year.


Given the number of sales over the summer, E-Week will be smaller this year, mostly smaller pieces, some new ones and the return of a few from the past.



Parts of Two Sampler Possibilities


Which would you choose?


'In the springtime,

The only pretty ring time,

The birds do sing hey ding a ding ding,

sweet lovers love the spring.'




'And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea—

What are all these kissings worth

If thou kiss not me?'





Which? > A Sampler


Both make me think,

the makings of a sampler.


Can you see them too?


All through my long days of kitting I have been daydreaming about new projects. The list is growing long and I have no time to do them,

but the daydreams have been so entertaining!


For the future.

For now, back to work counting and stapling labels on threads.

Website updated

September 18, 2018


Above is the map of how far Queendom Website has traveled,

nice for MacSoph and me, but doubly nice because it shows that needlework is indeed alive and well right round the world.


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my blog

© Gay Ann Rogers,   2008 -–2018

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Gay Ann Rogers.

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Gay Ann Rogers.

A Favorite Adventure from Long Ago


In college I was a Lit major and afterwards, for a couple of years, I morphed into a high school English teacher. I taught diverse levels: I had three classes of college prep kids and two of what we called in those days, 'slow learners.' I don't know what the modern terms are for these levels today, but in my teaching days, those were the terms we used.


Class syllabus for my slow learners included The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.


I read it aloud and it captivated my students, so much that for the rest of the year, we ended class each day with a stanza or two. Every day. Of course they had favorites, and after a while, they would recite them right along with me, so it sounded like a choir.


The meaning didn't matter, it was the rhythm of the rhymes that mattered. Rhythm. I have often thought of what the rhythm of a poem has in common with our stitching, and how we are soothed and calmed by it.


Here it is, if you want to stitch and listen. See if you can understand what captivated my students years and years ago:


September 17 Funny how all these years later I remember some favorites among those kids. I guess not surprisingly, considering childhood rhymes, here were three:


Alone, alone, all, all alone,

Alone on a wide wide sea!

And never a saint took pity on

My soul in agony.


The many men, so beautiful!

And they all dead did lie:

And a thousand thousand slimy things

Lived on; and so did I.


I looked upon the rotting sea,

And drew my eyes away;

I looked upon the rotting deck,

And there the dead men lay.