Sometimes, like today, I find myself nearing the end of a Sunday and I realize that I didn't set foot out the door. I didn't go anywhere, or breathe the autumn air, or visit anyone. But I had just the day I needed, and I spent it on myself.
The week's stresses and small anxieties had to be processed. My body needed rest, especially after last weekend's Rhinebeckathon.* There was a cat to tend, and laundry to do. There were corn muffins to make, and phone calls with friends to be had. There was tea, and an apple, and peanut butter on celery.
Most of all, there was knitting. I have only 50 rows -- just 5000 stitches -- left to knit on my Cedar Falling Waters shawl, and I finished a third Hill Country hat.
There's nothing else I would rather have done today. I think I'm ready for the week to come.
*Rhinebeck was cold, happy, tiring, fun, wet, and satisfying. I'd go back again right this minute, if I could.
It's time to pull out the little overnight bag, pack up the knitting projects, and choose some warm wooly things to wear to Rhinebeck. This year, rain gear is a necessity as well, unless the weather report changes soon. Judy and the R's are due at my house at around 4:00 this afternoon, so I have lots to do between now and then. There's the matter of that pesky work day, too; I have to fit that in somewhere.
We're all excited, as usual. The road trip, the laughter, the Eveready Diner for breakfast. The wool and sheep and alpacas and llamas -- oh my. The too-short visits with dear, dear friends, and the possibility of meeting up with treasured blog-friends. The surprises that could await us around any corner or down any aisle. Rhinebeck -- there's nothing like it!
I won't be taking this warm hat with me this weekend because it's bound for the donation table at the Knitter's Review Retreat in November. It's the Hill Country Hat from The Knitter's Book of Wool, designed by Clara Parkes. She's offered it to all of us in this week's Knitter's Review newsletter. It took me just a few hours to knit, and I used Rowan Purelife Organic Sheep Breeds Chunky in Shetland Moorit. I think I'll make two or three more!
I'd better get going, or I'll be late before I'm ready. Thank you all for your comments about the shawl, and for taking the journey with me.
At last! I've been waiting for so long! Clara's Parkes' Knitter's Book of Wool has finally arrived. It's beautiful. It's filled with everything Clara knows and loves about wool, indispensable gifts to all of us knitters. And right there on page 168 is my very own contribution, the Falling Waters Shawl.
I'm so many things right now -- happy, relieved, honored, sentimental, and proud. I began designing this piece at the beginning of 2008, and I finished knitting it in May, just as I was about to learn that something was really wrong with me. There were tests, feverish knitting, more tests, and more knitting. The shawl was a lifeline all through the designing and knitting. I felt so powerful, so full of a creative force, and so much myself as I worked on it, even as I got closer to knowing that I had cancer.
I sent it off to Clara with joy, tempered by hope that it really was something that could find a place in her book, and not just a mess of tilting things. I loved the tilting blocks, but I also loved their balance, and the overall symmetry of the shawl. I think I needed to find some of that somewhere just then, because all I could feel was the frightening tilting of my own life.
Now, more than a year later, I'm able to look over my shoulder at the long road behind me. The dreadful mountains and dark valleys, the few soft grassy places -- everything, all of it, bordered by the sweet river of that blue shawl.
It occurred to me that I needed a Falling Waters of my own, so I began this one a couple of weeks ago. I'm almost finished now, and I'm deep into the rhythm of the knitting. I'm soothed again, just as I was when I knit the first shawl. I'm finishing the journey. And it turns out that yes, I think I can tilt and yet remain balanced, in knitting and in life.
I'm knitting all the time. I think about it while I am at work. I want to knit the minute I wake up in the morning. In the evening I knit until my thumbs ache and my eyes sting. I have not stopped knitting -- either in reality, or just in my head -- since I began this project on Thursday. For the time being, you'll have to wonder what it is, but I suppose it's clear that it means a great deal to me, and that I'm in love with it. The yarn is "Cedar" Merino DK from String Theory. There is more to it than what this picture shows -- it really does look like a whole cedar tree.
This is the sock I abandoned on Thursday afternoon when the String Theory yarn arrived. It's a wonderful sock, simple and oh so soft. The yarn is Kitchen Sink Dyeworks' Luxe Merino Fine in "Levi." It's merino, cashmere and nylon. Mmmmmm. It is delicious... but it will have to wait.
Even sitting here to write this is hard. The knitting is calling to me from across the room. Of course there's more to life than knitting, but not today. I'm completely content forming the knits and purls, the yarn-overs and the K2togethers, and watching the colors dance across the fabric as I knit. Every stitch is a step in a journey.
