Love came down at Christmas

My sweet mother had a difficult relationship with Christmas. She loved the idea of it, and she loved all our family's traditions — she created many of them, after all. But Christmas also tended to disappoint her sometimes, especially when it wasn't picture-perfect. In a family of nine, things were rarely picture-perfect; we didn't notice, but she did.

When we were growing up our parents created a magical time for us every year, and Gig's creativity and ingenuity were woven through the season — themed Christmas trees, pfeffernüsse cookies, actually-delicious fruit cake, beautiful arrangements of greens and decorations that filled the house, a Christmas morning that was staged as carefully as a Broadway theater set — and often, there were gifts she made herself.

My mother loved to sew. She sewed for most of her life; her mother was a seamstress as well. She made most of my sisters' and my clothes when we were growing up — in the early 1960's she made my sister Sarah and me two beautiful Easter outfits that included reversible linen coats — and she kept at it long after I was grown. When the grandchildren began arriving, starting in 1970, she kept sewing, and she concentrated on Christmas.

Each year seemed to have a theme — I wish I could remember them all. The nightgowns and footie pajamas, stick horses, teddy bears, pillows in the shape of letters for each child, shiny stuffed fish. There might have been dinosaurs, and there must have been others that I just can't remember.

In March, when I came home from Gig's memorial service and that short but amazing visit with my entire family, something began to take shape in my knitter/auntie/crazy-woman brain. What if I were to knit something — some little something — for those nieces and nephews, and their children, the way Gig had sewed for them? Just because I love them. I would be casual about it, and I would knit throughout the year. Things I might want to knit anyway, with yarn I probably already had. My Family Project began.

So I knit things all year long. When I finished, there were seven scarves, five pairs of mitts, and fifteen hats. For my family, and their families and beloveds — for Melody, Sylvester, A'Court, Cynthia, Susan, Ava, Lindsey, Chris, Oliver, Emily, Kylie, Jacob, Amy, Sophie, Sam, Dylan, Will, Rachel, Rebecca, Ben, Angela, another Dylan, Varan, Valerie, Kaiden, Robin, and Matt.

The photo is a link to the Family Project  Flickr page.

On this Christmas morning I am imagining my family, all opening their little packages, smiling as they remember how much Gig loved us, and I hope they know how much I love them. And wherever you are, whoever you're with — and picture-perfect Christmas or not — I hope this day is filled with love that wraps you up in a warm hug.

"Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Star and angels gave the sign."

Christina Rossetti

Pink

This year, my Christmas Cactus bloomed at the end of October. This Pink knitting happened at about the same time. Here are two additions to my Family Project, in Good Karma Farm Yarn merino and alpaca. It's a pleasure to knit, and the color is just girly enough!

Better knitting

Us.

Up.

Close.

When was Rhinebeck — weeks ago? It all went by in a blur. I spent a lot of Saturday "helping" Clara Parkes at her book signing. It was something to see: a line of knitters, all waiting to tell her how much her books mean to them, how they love Knitter's Review, how they learned this or that from her, how much they love that she shares her morning coffee with us via Twitter and Facebook. Knitters are mostly lovely people, and I got to see mostly loveliness that day. Clara signed all the copies of the book that there were, and there weren't nearly enough!

The book is, of course, The Knitter's Book of Socks. Clara asked me to design a pattern, so I did. It came to me on a wintry Sunday morning in Kris' living room, over a cup of coffee in this cup:

Herend 2010.

The pattern is Hickory, in Sundara Sock Yarn. I'm delighted with how they turned out, and with the way the pattern looks and fits into in this incredible book. We are learning so much from Clara Parkes and her books, and she's helping us become better knitters — intuitive, knowledgeable knitters. It's beautiful to see, and that's one reason why standing with her at that table at Rhinebeck, with the line of better-knitters stretching down the aisle, was such an honor.

On Sunday, Judy and the Remarkable R's and I made the rounds at Rhinebeck. It was different because they couldn't be there for both days, but it was still wonderful. I just love our Rhinebeck Tradition. I don't need yarn, of course, but I brought home a little bit of Guanaco and a pair of glass circular needles to add to my small selection.

I've knit a lot since I got home — more hats and some mitts, and a bigger project that's not ready to show yet. I've been working on a design that is about to become a pattern that will eventually become something I hope you might want to knit. Don't tell anyone, okay?

Man Hats I.

 

Man Hats II, and Foxgloves on the needles.

Give or take

Baktus with eyelet edge in Sundara Sock "Cactus Flower"

I've been knitting. Finish one thing, start something new. Small things — a scarf, a hat, a pair of mitts. I'm working on what I've come to call The Family Project. That's all I can tell you!

Honey Cowl in Spirit Trail Fiberworks Paivatar, unnamed colorway

Foxgloves in Filatura di Crosa Zara

 There's more.

Simple Ribbed Hat in Bijou Spun Himalayan Trail

Maine Morning Mitts in Sundara DK Merino the 2nd, "Lichen Over Slate"

Saroyan in Sundara Fingering Merino Cashmere "Ocean's Edge"

Foxgloves in Briar Rose Cashmere, unnamed colorway

This represents much of my knitting from April through September, give or take a sock or two, and at least one scarf and hat. And there are other things on the needles or in my head, too! I'm not insane, just inspired.

Hitchhiker Scarf in Sundara DK Silky Cashmere, "Spring Fresh"

 I started this Hitchhiker scarf yesterday. Must keep moving.

With all this knitting going on, the set of Darn Pretty Interchangeable needles I got at the beginning of the year has turned out to be the best investment I've made in my knitting since, oh, my umbrella swift and ball winder back in 1978. They are absolutely worth the wait, and they really do have the best join I've worked with.

Rosemary Likes Knitting, Too

Oh, and I do still have my day job!

Fifty-six Hours

That's how long I was without power at home during and after Hurricane Irene. Not too bad, considering that there are many people here on Long Island, and right here on the East End, who don't even know when theirs might be restored.

But fifty-six hours was more than enough. At least I could go to work, where we had power the whole time. At home, I was just uncomfortable and stressed and done. This house gets its water from a well, and when there's no power, there's no water. After I used what I'd stored, I had to haul it from work in a big container. Knowing that my refrigerator full of food was spoiling made it even more difficult. The peaceful haven I count on my little home to be was no longer peaceful, or a haven.

I had a small epiphany this week. Yes, I'm fortunate to live a life where I can count on electricity, running water, and other comforts. But at the same time, I need to acknowledge that I work very hard to provide those things for myself. It's up to me. So when I can't take a shower or flush the toilet, when most of my fresh food becomes inedible, and when I can't see to do much of anything, it's distressing. And I can stop apologizing for that, without diminishing the suffering and hardship that people all over the East Coast — and all over the world — are experiencing right now.

While there was a little bit of daylight on Sunday — in between the moments when I thought I might see Miss Gulch pass my window on her bicycle — I finished the giant swatch I started earlier in the week. It's more of a stitch sampler than a swatch. I worked out the math and the logistics for a shawl with an interesting bit of lace, and played with some lovely lace edges. When my Red Heirloom Tomato yarn arrives from Sundara, I'll begin figuring out how to make it all work on a larger scale. We shall see what becomes of all this swatching and figuring.

I began a pair of socks on Monday, when Kris told me to start something. He even told me what yarn to use (4-ply Organic Poll Dorset from Renaissance Dyeing) and what pattern to knit (Anne Hanson's Caterpillar Socks). I needed someone to tell me what to do by that point, so I'm glad he stepped in and gave me a shake.

Now onward, to Labor Day weekend and the reverse migration of the Summer People — those who haven't given up and gone home already, that is!

What might become

Just testing. Trying a few things with some leftover Sunna. Seeing if I can put some stitches together into a little shawl. So far, so good.

This is what I have spent the day on, and I've had a wonderful day exploring stitches, making little charts, and casting on (and ripping out). It's a beautiful day here on the end of Long Island, but it's also August, and there are August People everywhere. I'd rather stay home and enjoy the breeze on my porch.

We'll see what becomes of this swatch, but I think it's on its way to becoming what has been percolating for a couple of weeks. There was a day when I was on my way to Sag Harbor, and before I could do anything else I had to stop into the bookstore, grab a piece of paper and a pen, and draw what I had dreamed up in the car.

That's normal, isn't it?

Untended

This picture says it all. Two months ago, the wisteria was just beginning to climb up my porch railing. Now, it claims my chair.

It's been the same sort of summer as usual: busy. I work long hours, shuffle back and forth between the bookstore and home, and marvel at how time is flying (or complain about how time seems to have stopped). Our website is a full-time job, and exciting. My head is filled with html and SEO, URL path settings and publishing options. My time is spent on updates and order processing, inventory upload files and shipping quotes. Above all, I keep in touch with books. Books and bookselling are still what I do.

There's been knitting. Free-range knitting. Dabbling. I finished my Saroyan weeks ago (Sundara Fingering Merino Cashmere). I'm working on a couple of pairs of socks, a little shawl experiment, and a few other things. It keeps me sane.

I've also been reading. This should not be remarkable, but it is. My reading mojo has been non-existent for a very, very long time. Tolstoy and the Purple Chair is a beautiful memoir by Nina Sankovitch. It's about her year of reading — a book a day, for 365 days — after the death of her sister. In an article in the New York Times, she said she was seeking answers about "how to live with sorrow and how to find my place in the world." I think I knew that books can provide those answers, but I didn't go to them. Nina Sankovitch's wonderful book has begun to lead me back. I'm reading one of the books on her list now: How to Paint a Dead Man by Sarah Hall.

Maybe reading is keeping me sane, too.

 ❧ Rosemary... Rosemary is a furry firecracker. She is fond of stuffed mousies, especially when they need to be attacked at the foot of the bed in the middle of the night. She doesn't keep me sane, but she makes life interesting.

Rosemaryness

Can I come out there?

I'll be good, I promise.

Really.

Wait. Are you serious?

Forget it, then. I'm leaving.

Life is so much better with Rosemary in it. She is a delight, every single day.

And sock yarn that's as green as the summer trees is delightful, too!

Found

Her name is Rosemary, and a few days ago she found the hole in my heart and stitched it up.

We're just getting to know each other, we two, but I know this: a cat who places her paw in your hand, ever so gently, and lets it rest there — that cat is your cat, and you are her person.

Rosemary came to me — along with her sweet name — from ARF, one of our local rescue organizations. Annabelle was an ARFan, too.

I do knit, and I do have pictures, but I will save them for next time. I've been completely consumed by Rosemary, of course, but also by a monumental project at work. I rarely write about my job (I try not to), but I'm in charge of our new website, and I've been busy putting it together. It launched yesterday and I'm pretty pleased with it.  Go take a look when you have a minute.

This Sunday I'll be at SBUMC Cancer Center to celebrate National Cancer Survivor's Day, and I'll be at a special breakfast for those of us who are participating in clinical trials. I'm so happy to be here, three years after my diagnosis of uterine cancer, and so honored to be helping find better treatment for my sisters who will be diagnosed in the future. All the research money in the world (and all the pink stuff we're encouraged to buy) won't get rid of cancer without patients and doctors participating in clinical trials. Just sayin'.

Where I'll be

This is my birthday furniture, and it's my new favorite place to be. When the oak pollen has finished making my life difficult, I'll sit here with my knitting and a big glass of iced tea. There will be flowers, and maybe a little table.

The chair was a gift from my friend Judy, the ottoman was from my sister Ellen, and the pillow was stitched by my sister Sarah. There are also plants from the Remarkable R's. Their brilliant gift coordination helped turn my little deck at the top of the stairs into a wonderful place to relax and enjoy the summer!

Two birthdays

Sunset • Long Beach • Sag Harbor • 4/24/11

The first is the one my mother gave me, fifty-six years ago today. The second is the one made possible by Dr. Pearl, some very powerful medicine, and my own perseverance: two years of No Cancer. My birthdays share the same week, and almost the same day, so it makes sense that I've spent this week pondering.

I've been thinking about my mom, and all the birthdays she made so special for me, and for my whole family. Her cakes are legendary. I asked Judy to make me a lemon cake for my birthday dinner on Sunday, and she did, and it was amazing. There was also a BookHampton cake on Monday, with candles and everything. I'm so fortunate to have good friends who are also my family.

I've been thinking about Dr. Pearl, too, and all the people who made my second birthday possible. I'm grateful and lucky and still in awe of his artful doctoring (with a nod to my own fortitude). I've said it before, but it bears repeating: his art and my magic are a powerful combination.

I want to celebrate my two birthdays for years and years to come, so I promise myself that I will wake up every morning and make my life better — somehow, in some small way. Happy birthdays to me.

Not my cat

I'm looking after Robbie this week, while my landlords are away. He is exceptionally cute and squishy and silly. He spends his time waiting for voles, or lounging on the deck, or peering in my door. When he visits he is a gentleman, polite and not too nosy.

Robbie has also opened my eyes: I need a cat. I miss warm fur. I miss having a little soul to care for and talk to. I miss purrs and mews. I miss having a creature winding around my feet as I work in the kitchen. I miss having a reason to go home, and I miss the love. Soon, soon.

Soon.

Third time's the charm

When it was time to cast off the last stitch of my third Multnomah, I knew I was ready to move on. I love this pattern, though, and I know I'll make it again. And knitting with the beautiful Spirit Trail Nona — a blend of merino wool, cashmere, and bombyx silk — was like a dream. The color is a special one that Jen dyed just for me.

Today has been lovely and warm —a day to spend time in the sun — but I almost wish it was chilly enough to wrap this little shawl around my neck!

Sometimes old knitting comes back into your life. Sometimes it's welcome, sometimes it's something you hoped you'd never see again. This blanket fits into the first category. I made it for my niece, so long ago that I don't remember when. I recognize some of the yarn, but not all. It needed some repair, because it turns out that she loves it and uses it every day, so she brought it to me when we were together last month.

See the leaf in the middle? I knit two, one for the front and one for the back. I positioned them over the hole, which was pretty shredded, and sewed them together. I think it works! I mailed it to her the other day, and I can't wait to hear what she thinks.

I've moved on to other projects — right now it's a simple ribbed hat for a gift, using some Bijou Spun Himalayan Trail, which is yak and a little merino. Then I might get back to my cardigan. Or not. Whatever I have on the needles, it's keeping me sane.