Because Creativity - The Pool of Life, with Tamsin Chennell and Floella Fairy Frog

“I don’t know how it happens but I love it.”

Floella Fairy Frog in Bluebell Wood. Photo credit Emily Charlotte Powell

Dear Creatives,

Welcome to another Because Creativity guest letter, where we pause from life’s endless demands for a short interlude, to dwell on creativity, imagination, and beauty. These stories are about the magic of making, the small marvels of imagination, and the quiet thrill of creating something just for joy.

Emily’s Desk
The Studio
WIWD HQ
England

22th June 2025

Dear Reader,

Please allow me to introduce myself. I am

Floella Fairy Frog

, writer and wand bearer, with a fondness for tea, storytelling, and snug corners. I’m ever so pleased to be writing to you from my spot on Emily’s desk, where I spend my days dreaming up tales and watching the weather with great seriousness.

I was stitched into being by the wonderfully talented

Tamsin

and now live quite happily with Emily, who keeps me well supplied with tiny pencils and tea.

I do hope this letter finds you well (and ideally with a cup of tea in hand yourself). The weather here has been gloriously beautiful and rather hot, possibly a little too hot for a frog in a knitted dress, if I’m honest. I do much prefer spring. Still, sat in my shady corner with my tea and a breeze from the window, I’m quite content.

Today, I am simply thrilled to share a special letter from my very own Maker,

Tamsin

. If you’ve ever encountered one of her knitted creatures (foxes, rabbits, moles, dormice, badgers, chickens, and froglets in every colour imaginable), you’ll already know that each is brought to life with remarkable tenderness, quiet humour, and impeccable taste in accessories.

I myself came from her needles, so I can speak with some authority when I say that Tamsin does not merely knit; she conjures.

There’s something quite mysterious about it all. As Tamsin knits, the little creatures begin to whisper… their names, their profession, perhaps even what sort of hat they might like. Bit by bit, their personalities appear, as colourful and diverse as the shades of yarn they are knitted from. I’m still not entirely sure how it works, but goodness, it’s marvellous.

Tamsin’s letter is a window into the magic, and I do hope that you enjoy it.

Much love,

---

The Pool of Life - photo credit Tamsin Chennell

I’ve always created something. When I was a wee lassy of the Gen X variety if it wasn’t chucking it down I was out of the house most of the day running around the countryside. I used to make little matchbox hospital beds to put injured insects in that I placed into a shoe box hospital. I endlessly drew horses of many different colours. I painted. I coloured. I made Airfix models of horses, which I painted in authentic horse patterns very carefully.

I learnt to knit when I was 5. I was awful at it, tension far too tight and constantly dropping and making stitches so my simple scarf would look like a zigzag. When I became ill with MECFS I began to knit again, it was something I could do that didn’t use up lots of energy. I learnt to crochet, being left handed I needed a video to follow (I highly recommend Moogly on YouTube). I spent 4-5 years exclusively crocheting and then I fell out of favour with it and returned to knitting. The frogs were discovered on Instagram. I would love to say I have the imagination to design the pattern for things like this, but alas I don’t. I need a base from which to jump off. So I have altered the pattern a bit but the basics are by Claire Garland who can be found on Ravelry.

How these little froglets have taken everyone’s hearts is quite amazing! (Don’t tell them, but I prefer the rabbits.) Each one seems to get their own little personality as they grow: whispering their names, their profession, and what they would like for clothes along the way. Their characters become clear. I don’t know how it happens but I love it.

Being AuDHD I was compelled to make one froglet of each colour available in the yarn I use. It was a lot and I nearly lost motivation to continue. And so came the Pool of Life where they wait their turn to become limbed.

I really enjoy making them and discovering their personalities, but once made I’m ready for the next thing. I’m not keen on making the same thing over and over so I try to make them all different.

I’m not a seamstress in the slightest and so trying to make things to fit a 9cm frog is not my forte, but I do like to experiment. I quite enjoy using felt for clothes though, the tiny stitches are actually really relaxing. I did try to make even tinier froglets but the 1mm needles may as well have been pins and I kept sticking them in me. Yarn and blood doesn’t mix well! My eyesight is old too and I was mainly guessing where the needle went rather than actually seeing each stitch, so no more of the tiny, tiny frogs. 2mm needles will be the smallest I go. I use alpaca yarn in the main, and I love the feel of it on my fingers it is smooth and seems almost moisturising. Something to do with lanolin I expect.

I really enjoy seeing them disappear off for new adventures in their new homes once adopted especially when those adventures appear back on Substack and I can see my creations again. However, I don’t really miss them that much, as there is always more to do. I have my original Frog and Toad for me and I’m happy with them and the Rabbit family; the rest can go. I’ve made a fox, a badger, an elephant, a rhino, a chicken (I do like the chicken), an large Orangutang (also staying), a couple of different mice, a newt, a fawn, a mole, a Guinea pig, and a sloth. I’m always looking for the next thing and it needs to be different. I alter patterns as I go and tweak them to what I want.

Once the frog Pool of Life is empty I’m not sure what I’ll do next. I do have a couple of adventures in mind but I need to not be knitting daily for those to happen. So watch this space!

Photos courtesy of Tamsin’s Substack

---

Thank you, Tamsin, for sharing this glimpse into your world; knitted with humour, heart, and an abundance of wool. And thank you, too, to Floella, for graciously introducing us to Tamsin and the Pool of Life.

Creating what we love and loving what we create is, and will always be, enough. I know the longing inside me to make beautiful things would still tingle and spark beneath my skin, even if no one ever saw them.

But something extraordinary happens when we share what we’ve made. Not out of pride or ambition, but because joy seeks company, because we long to share what we love.

When we offer our creations to the world, they begin to stretch beyond us, sparking delight, inspiring wonder, becoming more than the sum of their parts. A picture book becomes something richer than story or illustration alone. A stitched froglet becomes a character, a companion, an invitation for connection. Yes, creativity is soul-work, but it is also a kind of collective magic. And when we let it go, it grows.

There’s also something profound in the reciprocity of this joy. In the way it travels outwards and circles back, changed. To know that something you’ve made has brought someone else comfort, or understanding, or delight, is its own kind of grace. And it asks something of us too: the humility to let go. To allow what we create to be seen in ways we didn’t intend.

I’ve created characters, from my imagination, my story, and yet I know they might mean something entirely different to someone else. They might be a mirror, stir a memory, share comfort. They might carry someone’s laughter, or their grief. That is the generosity at the heart of creativity: to offer what we’ve made, and to let it become whatever it needs to be.

Tamsin’s creations are a beautiful example of this. Stitched and stuffed, full of stories and spirit, they’ve made themselves at home across the world, bringing mischief, tenderness, and an abundance of personality and joy wherever they go.

When Floella arrived, she already knew she was a writer. She wished for a desk and chair, which, of course, I was delighted to provide. I made her a set of tiny pencils so she could write letters to her cousins Chilli and Pepper, adopted by

Wake Lloire

in Canada. It wasn’t long before I was searching for another froglet for Mum, and when Blossom appeared, with her green boots and fondness for frills, I knew she would be perfect…

If, like me, you’ve found yourself enchanted and longing for a froglet of your own, you can find Tamsin and her colourful creations here:

You never know who might be waiting there, ready to whisper their name to you.

With wishes for endless inspiration,

P.S. Floella is on Substack, and she would be absolutely delighted to write to you from her desk at While I Was Drawing HQ. If you’d like to receive a letter from her (the proper kind, posted through the door) you’re warmly invited to send her a message.

She writes about the things that matter most to a small frog with a desk: the weather, the feel of good paper, the best way to brew tea, and the tiny wonders we might otherwise miss. You might like to ask her a question, share something you’ve noticed, or simply request a story from her corner of the world. All she needs is your name, your postal address, and a little time to find just the right stamp.