I had some knitting things to say

But I lost my train of thought.

Hurricane Katrina animal rescue:

North Shore Animal League America

Help victims of Hurricane Katrina:

Network for Good

There are so many terrrible things going on in the world on this day. I'll do what I can, and I hope you will, too.

Here and There

There's been some knitting going on, and I'm having fun. I have to give up on the idea that I will ever be the sort of knitter who starts something and actually finishes it before moving on. I have no knitting deadlines at the moment, and I'm going to avoid making any, so I get to play around with stuff when the spirit moves me. What I'm saying is that I started a new project while there are other scarves and sweaters and socks going on. It's okay by me, even though I panicked last month. I have it under control now, really I do.

I decided to use my handspun to make Nora Gaughan's "Here and There Cables" from Scarf Style. I wanted texture, and I got texture. It looks like tree bark, don't you think? I really like it. The cables are reversible, and the pattern was easy to memorize. It will look better when it's blocked, too, because the cables won't be so scrunched up. I played with the needle size until I got a fabric that I liked, so I'm using US9's rather than the 7's called for in the pattern. I also reduced the number of stitches, or else I'd be knitting a shawl instead of a scarf.

I have been living with the yarn I bought the other day, and I can't for the life of me figure out what I am going to do with this pretty skein. It's 400 yards of Schaeffer Laurel, a cabled cotton that's supposed to knit up at 4-4.5 stitches per inch. Small shawl? Large scarf? Very expensive washcloths? The blue in the photo is actually more grey, and the gold is more muted, but it's definitely making a strong I Am Yarn, Hear Me Roar statement. I guess I'll let it be for now. It's not like I have nothing to knit!

I am going to spend at least some of my random knitting time working on stuff for the Dulaan Project. I have time, I have yarn, I have the desire to expand my horizons. It all adds up, and it makes me very happy to be able to make a small contribution to such a good cause.

The blog looks different (as if you haven't noticed). I've been playing with the template with the hope that it will be easy to read. Will the three or four people who read this please comment? Thank you ever so much.

Love, and some yarn

I never expected to find myself at a traffic light, my heart being pulled from my chest, my breathing suspended, my body numb. I am listening to The History of Love by Nicole Krauss.

There I was at the red light, gazing off into space, just listening to this book. And then the character Leo Gursky lists all that he has lost. It is one of the most powerful and sad and moving passages I have ever read. It's beautiful, just beautiful. My heart still hurts a little bit. Read this book. Everyone who knows me knows that I never tell others what to read, so I am taking a big chance here.

I had a great day off. I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather, so I took the ferries to the North Fork of Long Island instead of "driving around." Besides, who wouldn't want to take one of these sweet little things on a ride across a beautiful stretch of water on a bright summer day? My main mission was to check out the sale at my not-too-local yarn shop, so spending almost $20 on two ten-minute boat rides doesn't make much sense, but I love this little trip. It's worth it.

My stash has been enhanced by a nice skein of Schaeffer Laurel in "Elizabeth Blackwell", some Great Adirondack Superwash Merino in "Peacock", and 110 precious yards of Great Adirondack 1/8 Silk in "Dove". Oh, and a few odd balls of wool must have rolled into my bag, because they're here, but I swear I don't know how it happened. Wensleydale and something Cleckheaton, I think they claim to be. I "needed" some needles, so I got a couple of Bryspun circulars to try. I'm trying them out on a handspun yarn thing, which I'll post about if and when it works.

I'm not an impulsive yarn-buyer. I spend a long time contemplating yarn before I pile it on the counter and pull out the credit card, but I'm also willing to trust my instincts when a yarn is speaking to me. That's how I ended up with 110 yards of obscenely expensive (even on sale) silk ribbon the color of mourning doves. It was just meant to be!

The countdown continues

Two weeks to go, and Summer is taking the hint. We're expecting a big weather change here tonight, with lows around 60 and highs around 80 for the next week. I can handle that.

There's nothing like a good haircut to make a person feel better, too, so I got a sassy-looking one today, all stacked and taking advantage of the one wave my hair has. That, along with a well-timed iced latte, and I had a great day. Monday is the hardest day of my week, because I need to race to get my reorders in to the publishers so the books will arrive before Friday. By one o'clock I'm usually fried, so a haircut to break up the afternoon is a Good Thing!

At home, in my little yarn world, I'm trying to decide what to make with my 588 yards of handspun. It's not meant to be a lace scarf after all (it said no when I swatched), so I'm looking through all the free patterns I've collected. It might like being something with cables, maybe an Irish Hiking Scarf, but there are about a gazillion free patterns out there, and my own library could provide many more. So, I think I'll just prop the yarn up and show it pictures of what it might become. It might want to be a little shawl, so I'll give it that option as well.

I'm waiting patiently for the time when I have time to think about the KR Retreat. It's a good gift to give myself. I can't wait to meet all the people I've become so fond of over the past few years (Hey, Martha!), and I'm looking forward to spending a whole weekend doing nothing but fiberly things. The lead-in, Rhinebeck, is also a treat I'm excited about. Besides, I'll need something new to spin.

So, off I go to commune with my yarn. Thanks for reading.

Eighteen days until Labor Day

I make my way home each evening, always an hour later than I have the energy for, half-listening to History of Love because I am still thinking about books. Wondering if my apartment will be cool or stuffy, because I left the AC off today. Hoping that there's anything there that can pass for dinner, because I cannot bear to stop and buy anything.

I am worn to a nub by readers, sometimes well-meaning readers, who want me to tell them what to read. Or better yet, who want me to tell them what "everybody" is reading. Or I must hand them the exact book they are looking for (you know, the one that was reviewed some time in the past week no month no year in the Times no the Journal no Vanity Fair, and of course they can't remember the author or title or even what the book is really about, but why don't I know what they are talking about?).

This too shall pass. In eighteen days the road west will be filled with Summer People returning to their regular lives. We'll return to ours, too.

Until then, I am grateful for rows of easy knitting, yards of meditative plying, for all the blessings of a life that is quiet when I need it to be. Like now, tonight, while the night things chirp and the moon is near full, and September is just around the corner.

The olden days

My little book has taken me on a nostalgic journey, back to my years of doing craft fairs, and the Sheep & Wool Festival, and to my box of photographs.

My friends V and K and I called ourselves "Moonflower Studios" after the flowers we all love. We had a booth at MD Sheep & Wool for I don't know how many years. We dyed, we spun, we knitted and wove and crocheted. We carded fiber blends with names like "Zuni" and "Badger" and "Dawn."

In this photograph from 1994, V's natural-dyed yarns and woven pieces anchor the booth; there's K's handsome vest at the back; on the left is a blue scarf I knitted (you can't see my woven shawls); and there seem to be hats everywhere. You also can't see our lineup of wheels and baskets to the right, where we sat and spun and gabbed with each other and everyone who stopped by. We pooled our considerable talents and created the most beautiful display in the whole festival, if I do say so myself (and in the same spot every year: Building 1, back left, next to the big door).

Our friendships survived the excitement, hard work, and stress. I can say with certainty and love that V and K are my dearest friends. We were Moonflower. We are Moonflower.

And back in the present, it's a most glorious day here -- warm, with a little breeze from the ocean, a deep blue sky, and best of all, not humid. It's going to be a fine day off. I'm almost ready to ply another batch of yarn, I want to work on some knitting, and History of Love is turning out to be a marvelous book. I'm set!

Art saves lives

I've been knitting for just over half my life. Twenty-six years. I'm a piker compared to some knitters, but still, I marvel at this number. I have a little book that I used to keep weaving and knitting notes in, and though I can't say for sure when I began writing in it, it does go back a long way. Nowadays, I keep all my notes on my PDA, but I still need my little book. There are the basic hat patterns I used when I sold handspun hats to match the scarves I wove; the little secret formulas for my crocheted bags and bowls (I made literally hundreds of the tiny things over the years); calculations and sketches for woven pieces that I wanted to be able to duplicate; tips and tricks found here and there; bits of yarn; and stitch patterns, mostly lace, that I used over and over again.

And for about twenty years, tucked into the pages of this sheep-stickered book, have lived the rubber-stamped words "ART SAVES LIVES." The little slip of card came from my friend and teacher Bunny Christie, who was an amazing artist and writer. She was in the habit of giving little bits to us, her journal class, as inspiration or serendipity struck her. I smile and remember her every time I come across the words, because art certainly saved her life, for as long as it could, and it continues to save mine. I know it was probably meant as a political statement (it was the 1980's, when living in Ronald Reagan's America was a sad time for any artist) but to me it's just one of those Universal Truths.

I was poking around in my little book the other day and I came across a pattern for lace leaves that I don't remember using, but that I must have. It's dated "10/90" and there are notations for needle size and number of stitches. What yarn did I use? Whatever happened to that scarf? Who bought it, and might they possibly have it still? I like this stitch, and I think it might be nice knitted in the yarn I'm spinning now.

I've been working too hard and too much this week to make much progress on any of my projects, but I've managed a few rows on my second Go With the Flow sock and my Manos sweater, a couple of inches on my Amazing Twining Lace scarf, and a half of a bobbin of yarn. All told, that's a lot of life-saving. There will be time for all of it today, along with laundry. Clean clothes might not save any lives, but they certainly are nice to have.

Spinning is good

Rhetorical question: Why does the usually stand-offish Annabelle need to have an up-close and personal conversation with me the minute I sit down at the computer? Anyone? I love her to pieces, I do.

As I was about to say: spinning is very, very good. It makes an ugly work week so much more beautiful. It makes it possible for me to take the delayed, incorrect, or missing shipments; the customers with ice cream (yes, that "No Food" sign does include ice cream, and it does apply to you); the burned-out, crabby, and frequently tardy staff; and the relentlessly hot, humid weather. In short, spinning makes just about anything possible right now.

I plied what I've spun so far, and ended up with a perfect 200 yards. I want to squeeze it, cuddle it, pet it. This yarn is not stand-offish, not one bit. So there, Miss Cat. [Oh, I still love you the best, because you have never ever needed to have an up-close and personal conversation with me while I am knitting. Or spinning.]

I think this yarn will become a scarf, maybe like this one. The photo doesn't give you much, though. I want it to be something lacey, but with some structure. If I get a lot of yardage out of the ten ounces of fiber I have, then maybe I'll make something larger.

I found the pattern through a wonderful blog I came across, Spider Woman Knits. I like her stuff, and I like her style.

Enough of this spinning and goofing off. It's time to get out into the sunny day and do some day off, errandy things. I think it's a peach smoothie kind of day, too.

Reunion

My dear old friend has come through for me again. A good dusting, some polishing, and a little tightening. A fresh, new drive band. A little extra attention to the spot where a spider left its calling card (how appropriate, eh?). Assemble the tools. Where is the beaded orifice hook? The Navajo sheep that must hang from the tension screw? What about the lazy kate, not to mention all the bobbins? Ah, there they are, not lost after all.

The fiber: Baby Cotswold, first. Good, but our conversation isn't going anywhere. Next, the carded batt from Tintagel Farm, all the colors of Autumn. We are in a deep discussion in no time. We understand each other perfectly.

Deep breaths, quiet rhythm, draw and let the twist travel. Settle, relax. Everything is as it should be.

So much for the plan

There's something new on my knitting radar: Eris. Oh, it's making its way all around my Internet. There are blips at KR, whispers on blogs, a knitalong started by the fiendish Purlewe (She claims to understand the anguish caused by my Pile of Knitting, but what does she do? She starts up a knitalong for a sweater I must make, even though I have no business adding to the PoK).

Seriously, this sweater is the perfect challenge for me. I enjoyed knitting Elspeth Lavold's Herdis last year, and I'm working on a pretty simple pullover (the Fabuolus Manos Wildflower, etc.), so I'm looking forward to tackling a complicated pattern. It follows the path my knitting has been taking in the past year or so. I see challenges in using techniques I already know -- cables (I even like the complicated ones), raglan shaping -- with elements that are not as familiar -- short row shaping (except for socks, I've never really fooled with short rows), zippers (if I decide to make the cardigan version, that is). I'm not shopping for the yarn yet, though. There's far too much going on in my world. But knowing that I have Eris to look forward to makes me smile.

This picture is for Vi, who thinks it's high time I posted my progress on this scarf. This is the first half, and I'm knitting away on the second half now. I'm quite pleased with it, even in its unblocked, unfinished state. I'd be finished already, if I hadn't made a gruesome discovery last week: a misplaced yarn-over right in the center of the central motif. Not acceptable. Even less acceptable was the way the edges would not look nice, no matter what I did to tighten them up. So I just picked up another ball of yarn and moved on. The edges are garter stitch this time around, and all the yo's are where they belong, and I am much happier.

I don't hesitate to frog my hard work. If starting over is the best way to finish something, then that's what I do. If I find a teensy mistake, something that nobody but me will ever see, or one that doesn't affect the results at all, then I leave it alone. I fix what I can, and keep knitting.

I'm still pondering the Great Question: Why I Don't Spin. The answer won't matter before long. I've been a spinner longer than I've been a knitter, but not as long as I've been a weaver. [Can I still call myself a weaver? I can if I want to.] I set the wheel aside to make room for the many changes my life was experiencing, but it has never left my side. It waits, it knows I haven't stopped being a spinner, and it will be ready when I am. I love my spinning wheel, love it in the way one loves a dear old friend whose shoulder is always available, and whose confidence is the safest place in the world. Nothing is stopping me from seeking solace there, nothing emotional or fearful or whatever-ful. I haven't put it away from my sight, or sold all my wool, or stored the bobbins and oil. Knitting has been my passion for the past few years, and there has been strength and comfort to be found there, too. I would not be This Jane without the knitting, without its daily presence, without the challenges and accomplishments it's provided. Now there might be spinning to be done, because I happen to have a bag of some beautiful wool that I bought at Rhinebeck two (or three?) years ago, "just in case." We know what that means, don't we?

Now on with the day off. It's hot as blazes and I have errands to do. And knitting. And what's that noise? Something is whispering from the corner by the bed. "Psst, Jane, come on over here. Just put your foot right there, flex your ankle. Nice, eh? That's right, you know how..."