Perfectly lovely

It's only taken me a year to finish this Hitchhiker scarf. Simple as it is, it took so long because it kept being pushed aside for other, more "urgent" projects. It's on its way to my sister Sarah (the quilter), and I hope she'll put it aside for next winter, since it wasn't finished in time for this one.

What keeps me from finishing perfectly lovely projects? Distraction, or too many ideas, or deadlines? Sometimes.

It doesn't really matter. Making stitches with beautiful yarn matters. Wrapping my sister in a scarf matters. Discovering the next thing I want to knit matters.

What keeps you from finishing your perfectly lovely projects? What a silly question.

Hitchhiker Scarf, madelinetosh tosh merino light 

Start fresh

A new notebook, a trusty pen. On with the day. This one is spiral, small, simple. It can be tossed into my bag, or lie open on my desk.

It's not my journal; its purpose is utilitarian. It's where I will park my thoughts and needs and bits of knitting brainstorms, just for the time being. I'm a serious iCal user, and I love my any.DO app, too. But there's always something that needs jotting, isn't there?

Do you have a notebook?

Passing time

Rosemary says "It's time to get up."

Oh, this Rosemary is quite a cat. She has me, hook, line, and sinker.

I seem to have been missing again—I'm sorry. The past few months have been so busy, so full of work and knitting and new adventures and yes, a few challenges.

In knitting, there was Rhinebeck—a weekend of new traditions for Rebecca and me, since Rachel and Judy couldn't be there. We had some fun anyway.

Coffee at Gigi's

The beautiful gardens at Bard College

There was the Knitter's Review Retreat, my annual dose of knitter love. It has to last the year.

Inn on the Lake, Canandaigua, NY

And then... there came The Great White Bale. I'll have to write later about the loveliness that is my job as Clara Parkes' Director of Customer Happiness, but let's just say I'm having the time of my life.

And those challenges—well, they're the kind you just rise to meet. My visits to Dr. Pearl continue to be happy ones, although I'm in need of surgery to deal with some scar tissue, and it's scheduled for mid-February. I'll keep you posted.

Corresponding

I don't know how many times I've said to myself, "I wish I/I ought to/I want to write more letters." I just don't. I email, talk on the phone, text (I have several ongoing text conversations that are priceless), use Facebook, or play Words With Friends (you'd be surprised how connected you can feel when you're trading words with someone you don't see very often).

I have a lot of excuses for not writing letters, none of them very good: My handwriting has gotten sloppy, I'm not comfortable holding a pen for very long, I'm busy, I don't have anything important to say... Hogwash. I think I spend more time justifying not writing letters than it would take to actually write one.

Writing letters was always a pleasure. I used to correspond with friends and family. I love that word. Correspondence. When did I begin to neglect it? I'd like to get into the habit of writing a letter or a note, the same way I email or call or post on a wall.

So I decided to participate in the Month of Letters Challenge, which I think I read about on Facebook. It can't be that hard, and it promises be interesting! February is the perfect month for a daily shake-up, too. It's such a long month, even though it has fewer days. I feel like challenging myself out of the winter doldrums, and a little letter-writing might to do the trick.

I even unearthed my trusty Parker 45 "Flighter" for the occasion, figuring that I'll be more inclined to write if I have a nice pen. It was a gift from my parents some time in the late 1960's, and was most certainly purchased at the House Stationery Store, since both of my parents worked on Capitol Hill then. It's a simple, inexpensive pen, but I've always loved it. They aren't made any more, but I still found ink cartridges at my local office supply store. I don't know what happened to the little converter that lets me fill it from a bottle of ink; it will appear one of these days.

After the yarn stopped flying at the end of my Family Project, I took a short knitting break. I've been knitting, but slowly. I always cast on a new project at the New Year, and this time it was a Ptarmigan Cowl. I had the perfect skein of cashmere for Spirit Trail, too.

I'm working on a scarf for a friend, and another Brooklyn Tweed pattern, Winnowing by Bristol Ivy. It's going to take me a while, but every time I pick it up, I'm mesmerized by it. I'm two repeats further into it than this (not very attractive) picture:

It's a rainy Wednesday — a good time to dash off a note, wouldn't you say? Happy February! I'll be posting a poem tomorrow for the annual Silent Poetry Reading, a blog tradition that I've participated in since 2006 (wow).  Do you have a favorite poem to share?

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!

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.

This is the life

Ah, yes...

So here it is: my birthday, time to add up all the responses to my Souvenirs and a Celebration post, and make a donation to the Gynecologic Cancer Foundation and its Women's Cancer Network. The grand total is... 105 comments! THANK YOU! Thank you! I began by wanting to give as much as I could afford, and when I decided to invite you to participate, I had no idea that I would receive so much in return. Your beautiful stories have been such a joy to read. I'm inspired by all of you, and by all the love and life that your words contain.

This has been, for me, a month spent marveling, pondering, and feeling. Cancer is part of my story, and it always will be, but it's a good distance behind me. I still feel the need to carry a little bag of preparedness with me, though, like a first-aid kit. It's packed with the skills cancer gave me, and some spare determination, along with a portion of the wisdom I've gained so far. But this baggage, unlike what I've been lugging around until now, is light. It's there just in case, to reassure me in those moments when I want to glance back over my shoulder. 

The road under my feet feels safe, and I'm ready to navigate this new year, and the next, and the next. Whatever is in store, I'm here, and I'm smiling. And I thank you all.

Now for the goodies -- yarn, and beautiful pictures of my landscape --

Two skeins of Sundara Yarns DK Silky Cashmere in "Spring Fresh": 

Louise, who commented on 4/5 at 4:34am
(please email me with your address, Louise!)

A skein of Sundara Yarns Fingering Silky Merino in "Marina over Icicles":

Elizabeth, who commented on 4/21 at 5:35pm
(please email me with your address, Elizabeth!)

Two skeins of Spirit Trail Fiberworks Ananke in "Calypso":

Bailey P., who commented on 4/5 at 3:19pm
(please email me with your address, Bailey!)

A skein of Spirit Trail Fiberworks Orihime in "Shoreline":

Ellen, who commented on 4/7 at 6:30pm

A skein of Spirit Trail Fiberworks Sunna in "Garnet":

Luann!, who commented on 4/6 at 1:37pm

A copy of Jake Rajs' book Beyond the Dunes:

Reya! who commented on 4/4 at 6:12pm

I've contacted Ellen, Luann, and Reya -- Reya! -- and I hope Louise, Elizabeth, and BaileyP will see this and get in touch so I can send them their beautiful yarn.

Now that the anniversary has come and gone, and the party is winding down, I think I'll relax, do a little knitting, and keep enjoying this life. Thank you again for making it a wonderful month, a wonderful year, and a happy birthday!

Sur-prizes

It's tulip magnolia time...

Even on a hazy day, they're opening...

Today their branches were the perfect place to pose some of the prizes for my Gynecologic Cancer Foundation fundraiser and giveaway...

First are two skeins of Sundara Yarns DK Silky Cashmere (160 yds each, 55% silk & 45% cashmere) in "Spring Fresh," a color Sundara chose for me. This is one of her newer yarns, and it's just beautiful. It would make a soft and warm cowl or scarf.

Next is a skein of Sundara Yarns Fingering Silky Merino (500 yds, 50% silk & 50% merino) in "Marina over Icicles," a yarn that Sundara sent as a little extra prize (Thank you, Sundara!). I'm knitting Anne Hanson's Boxleaf Triangle shawl with FSM, and I have a "collection" in my stash -- I think it's my favorite (after Sock, of course).

And last, though not posed in a tree, is Beyond the Dunes by Jake Rajs. I want to share this book because it captures the beauty of the many landscapes and the extraordinary light that surround and inspire me. To the rest of the world this place is known as "The Hamptons," but to those who live here it's just home, on the East End of Long Island.

To enter the giveaway, leave a comment on my April 4 post by 7:00pm EDT on Wednesday, April 28 (my birthday!). I'll draw three names at random and contact the winners by email.

I hope you'll add yours to the (yay!) 64 responses so far, and that you'll pass the word. With every new comment, I'm revising my idea of what I will be able to give -- upward. I've never been a "cause" person, but this one, of course, means the world to me. 

Dr. Pearl, Nurse Sylvia, my friends & family, and all of you, aren't charitable foundations, so one way to spread my gratitude around is to make the biggest donation I can to an organization that does so much for me and for all women. I hope you'll join in my fun!

::-::-::

In the not-work part of my life, I've been spinning like a crazy fool ever since I received some very special fiber from Jen at Spirit Trail Fiberworks. It's Bluefaced Leicester blended with silk, cashmere, and merino. There will be pictures eventually, but at the moment I'm in too deep to want to stop to take one. For now, take a look at the fifth picture down in this blog post. Now you see what I mean, don't you? And excuse me as I publish this and get back to spinning while the light is still good!

My soundtrack

"Woyaya" from Art Garfunkel's 1973 album "Angel Clare."  

 (It's not about the video; it's about the song, which I've loved since, oh, about 1973.)

~:~:~

Help me celebrate my anniversary by commenting on yesterday's post!

Falling Waters

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.

Pebbles, Thoughts

One year ago this week I learned that I had cancer. This is the week my life changed, and I became a new Jane, with the old Jane by her side, but new nonetheless. Because I’m pretty good-natured in general I think I’ve been able to think positively for most of this year. I haven’t been depressed. I’ve been afraid -- I still am, a little -- and I’ve been worn out, but I haven’t fallen too far into the black pit, never so far that I couldn’t haul myself out.

I could make lists of what I’ve been through, and what I’ve learned. I could go over every awful event and milestone, one by one. But when I look back at the whole year, I see my strength and power, along with the open mind and heart it took to temper all the hard things. That’s what I’ve learned -- that my openness and willingness, and my choice to see the experience as powerful, have really made a difference in my recovery. I took on some very big things, and here I am writing about it.


So I guess cancer is my friend, my very dark friend. It’s given me many gifts, even as it has taken so much from me. Though I don't want it in my life, I’ve come to depend on it, in a strange way. It's been the reason for so many things, for this entire year of things. It's caused me to have a new life, a new normal, a new reality. The new reality includes cancer. Whether it’s here or it’s gone -- doesn’t matter. It's part of me, and it changed everything.

A year ago, when I was diagnosed, and I was about to have surgery, I didn’t yet know what it meant to have cancer. It was big, but it didn’t have a shape yet. The fear that I felt made me do things like become efficient, set my house in order, and buy nightgowns. I was determined to be prepared for anything. Later, as time passed and I needed more treatment, cancer settled into my life to stay. I began to understand it, and then accept it. That’s when it became my dark friend, I suppose.


I’m not sure what the next year will bring. I hope it will bring more joy, and peace of mind, and less time spent worrying about cancer. I hope I’ll keep all the best things I found in myself safe and sound. I hope my bags won’t be burdensome, because until I really believe that I’m not in danger, I can’t put them down.


Yes, that's right -- this is knitting! I have been knitting again. It's Anne Hanson's Boxleaf Shawl in Sundara's Fingering Silky Merino. It was the project I had to shake the dust off of. After that, how could I not pick it up and keep going?


The color is called "Beach Pebbles" and I think it looks a lot like the picture of pebbles in the bay that I took the other day. I'm content to poke along on this project -- it's fun and the rhythm of the repeats makes me happy -- but I have begun to feel the familiar twinges that signal startitis. Should I treat them, or ignore them?

Swirling

My (very late) Rhinebeck report:

This is the only picture I took. We had a wonderful time! I managed to maintain enough energy to make it up and down and around the fairgrounds on both Saturday and Sunday, and the four of us enjoyed our meals at the Eveready Diner and Gigi Trattoria (best calamari ever). There was some consumption of maple sugar cotton candy, but no artichokes. We'll take the cotton candy.

Short but very sweet visits were had with the crew at Spirit Trail, both during the show and back at the motel (oh, those scones Lanea made!). I didn't make many purchases -- a bit of fiber from Botanical Shades, a Grafton corriedale batt, and some pretties from Lavender Trifles -- but I did come home with a beautiful pair of Sheila and Michael Ernst's glass knitting needles. Now to find something worthy of knitting on US 7's...


Back at home, I finally photographed the Honeycomb Hat I made before I left. It's so comfortable and warm that I'm wearing it right now. It's cold today, even indoors.


This is the neckwarmer I'm knitting to match. It's a simple Mistake Rib, round and round, which is all my chemo-brain can handle right now. Chemo brain explains everything if you want it to, and it's as good an excuse as any for being forgetful and distracted!


I like the way the trees outside my house look woven, like a basket. The colors are almost at their peak here, and the wind blowing the leaves on these stormy days gives off an energy that's hard to resist. I'll take some, store it up, and use it later, thank you. It seems that Autumn is whirling and swirling past at a crazy pace -- or is it just me?

It's time to move on to thoughts of the Knitter's Review Fall Retreat -- in just a few weeks I'll be in Williamstown, MA for a weekend with my peeps. Better get started on that class homework!

Retreat

I had a lot to say, but it feels like all the words I was going to use to describe my wonderful weekend at the Knitter's Review Retreat were lost to a crazy work week. Photos will have to do (there are more in my Retreat Set on Flickr), and I can ramble, I suppose. Here goes.

After all my fussing and fretting about getting packed and leaving on time, I managed, thanks in part to a bonus afternoon off on Wednesday. It was cloudy and only a bit chilly on Thursday, and the drive to the Seven Hills Inn took about four and a half hours. The Inn was comfortable and cozy, and who can resist a bed with six pillows?

From the Taconic Parkway on the ride up to Lenox

On Thursday evening the early arrivals had a nice dinner, a good visit, and lots of laughter. Then Friday morning arrived, and we spent a few hours learning how to knit in the Swedish Bohus tradition with Shelia January. I'd never done colorwork before, at least not successfully, so I'm thrilled that I got off to a good start on my little headband.

Friday morning preparation for Bohus workshop

The rest of the knitters arrived on Friday afternoon, and the fun and the decibel levels went through the roof. We knitted, we talked, we ate, we showed our stuff, and it was way after midnight before my head hit the (many) pillows.

On Saturday morning we had the great pleasure to take an inspiring lace workshop with Pam Allen. Many of us had knit lace before, but that didn't matter. Our swatches explored the effects of different arrangements of decreases, and we talked about so many other things as we knit -- yarn, reading charts, blocking, and the Next Big Thing in knitting (we might have arrived at a consensus, but I don't think so). While everyone was bent over their knitting I went around the room and took some pictures ...

Knitters' Hands

I spent Saturday afternoon assisting Ms. Clara at her table in the Retreat Marketplace, visiting with friends, and having an all-around good time. Saturday night there was more knitting and fun (and cake!) in the big ballroom.

On Sunday morning, after another late night on Saturday, we gathered for my favorite part of the Retreat -- we read the letters we'd written to ourselves last year (I didn't cry this time), wrote a new letter that we sealed and gave to Clara, and began our New Beginnings project. Mine is the Diamonds and Pearls shawl from Clara's book, designed by Shelia. I'm using some beautiful silk/merino from Spirit Trail Fiberworks, chosen for me by Purlewe on Saturday afternoon.

The weekend was too short. I was just getting going, just beginning to settle in with my dear friends for a visit (hey Martha!), just about to forget my daily life. I need more of this, these connections to the people and the knitting and the creative energy. I even stayed an extra night -- to keep from having to drive home late at night, of course, but also to prolong the goodness. Clara puts together quite a magical weekend. I wish I could describe it better, tell you just how much it means to me to be in that place with those dear people, and give you a real sense of it. Words fail.

Now that I've been home for almost a week, and life has returned to what passes for normal (normal does not really exist for a bookseller in the week leading up to Thanksgiving), I'm in a quandary. What to work on? Should it be Cormo?

Foxfire Fiber Cormo Roving

Or Cormo?

Foxfire Fiber Cormo/Silk Yarn

How about silk and merino instead?