Out of the Mists

As is the way of the coastal mountains, the snow turned to heavy rain yesterday. We mostly couldn't see past the trees across the road, but for a brief magical moment:

Snowy Comfort or How I Made Peace With Red

I have decided to press on with the scarf. Two things helped with this decision: firstly, all the very thoughtful comments (thank-you!) and secondly, the fact that it snowed yesterday.

I feel colour in a very visceral way, and I realized that indoor lighting on a rainy day made the scarf look like 70's shag carpet, which (for me) is a lonely and dowdy and sad sort of colourway. But softly overcast natural light reflecting off brilliant white snow transformed it into lichens and berries, and treasures on the forest floor, and this:



These are colours of comfort and harmony. So all is well, and the scarf will go on.

Dilemma

I am fretting - to a ridiculous degree - about the colours of the Turkish scarf. Here's yesterday's beginning:

It is a complex and ornate pattern, so I really wanted it to show clearly, yet not be so contrasty as to seem overly busy. I was hoping for a rich red/gold tapestry sort of effect. I'm worried the values of the two colours are too close, the brown/gold is too green, the whole thing is too hideous.... It goes to show how strongly oriented I am towards blue / green and neutrals - my confidence goes completely to pieces when I have to work with red. (I wouldn't have done it at all, except this person loves the red / gold / brown range.)

I found myself late last night poised over the "buy" button for this (another colour in the same yarn as the red, which could be an advantage):

And then I backed away from the expensive-handpainted-who-knows-what-this-colour-will-turn-out-to-be-in-real-life ledge and went to bed. Where I dreamt tormented knitting dreams, and this morning am still no closer to making a decision. I could also get a fingering weight yarn in a solid colour - I think it would need to be a pale gold - darker than cream, but light enough to contrast clearly with the red. Or maybe what I've got is just fine and I am losing my mind.

Honest opinions? Ideas? If I'm going to order more yarn, I need to make a decision soon, because time is running out. (Next year, I'll start Christmas knitting in January. Definitely. Or give everyone dishcloths. )

The Colour of Water

The dominant impression of autumn invariably seems to be the brilliant oranges and reds of the foliage, but there are also subtler hues hidden in the rainy shadows. Last weekend we took a little family hike:



On the way, we crossed one of the glacial creeks that feed Lost Lake:



I was struck by the contrast between the turbulent bits and the silty gray-green of the still water.



Pixellated:



The palette:



And the pattern:



The geometric pattern is adapted from an authentic Kurdish sock found in Anna Zilboorg's book. (I've been spending a great deal of time in that book while designing the scarf, and though this pattern won't fit in that project, it's one I've always admired.) I tried not to overthink the arrangement of the colours - I find I can easily get carried away with the mathematics of sequence and contrast.

I Feel Randomish - How 'Bout You?

Parents of children in the Zoboomafoo age bracket will recognize the reference. (Sorry if you only just got that song out of your head.) Facing an evening of trudging about in the cold and dark with a small pink flying unicorn for the express purpose of collecting a sizeable bag of simulated food substance containing every chemical known to turn said unicorn into Attila the Hun, I feel.... distracted. (Just call me the Grinch of Hallowe'en.) So, here are a few random ramblings:

1) You may have noticed I took the plunge yesterday and installed Haloscan to host the comments - primarily so that I would have the capacity to reply personally to comments, especially questions. It was pretty much painless, with one huge exception - contrary to their assertion in the pre-installation blurb, the old blogger comments DO disappear. Apparently they would come back if I were to uninstall Haloscan (which kind of defeats the purpose) but otherwise they remain locked in an inaccessible corner of cyberspace. This makes me sad. I have them all in my email archives, but the blog now looks all bare and lonely and monologue-ish - it's the warm and funny and caring interactions that make a blog real. Sigh.

2) I have Sixteen gift projects lined up (maybe 17, but I think I've pretty much talked myself out of that one.) As of today, I have completed 2 1/2 (I'm supposed to be on number 8).

3) Progress on the Magnificent Turkish Scarf:

I plan to knit the scarf from each end and graft in the middle - no upside down motifs, and no wastage of precious yarn.

4) Progress on DD's gift:

Kind of Hallowe'en-ish as is, don't you think?

5) Sneak preview:

I originally intended to work up a string bag pattern for Christmas that would be a masterpiece of holly leaves or silver bells, or some such. Then I came to my senses. What do knitters (me especially) really need at the beginning of November? Something fast. This fits the bill perfectly, and looks good. I just have to test knit it one more time, and will post the pattern (along with a list of ideas for environmentally responsible things to put in it) later this week.

6) Sarah asked (though you can't see it any more, so I can't even retrieve the link) whether I intended to post a pattern for the sari silk shell. Truthfully, that particular garment was made long before I really thought about anyone else being interested in my designs. (But I wouldn't rule it out :)) I can tell you that the key to sari silk is knitting it along with another, more "regular" yarn. In the case of the shell, I alternated rounds of SS and Estelle's aran weight silk. If you don't mind a bulkier weight, you can also strand it together with another yarn - in the case of the vest, I used a worsted weight wool.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Free Spirit

It's Monday, and time for a bit of metal:

I love the challenge of creating fluid waveforms with knitted silver "fabric". This particular piece grew out of my present internal struggle to define my path, and come to terms with my inability to plod forward in a straight line. Society places great value on folks who have an unwavering direction in life, working at a single profession for decades, always at peak productivity, invisibly absorbing child-rearing and loss and illness, never questioning whether there is any other way to live. But life - real, organic human life - is about cycles - circadian, menstrual, yearly, lunar, birth and death, health and illness - and diversity - one child could raise themselves, another needs focused moment-by-moment parenting to thrive. Surely living in harmony with these rhythms is more than just weakness and acquiescence. As for veering side to side - how else does one discover the extent of being without testing their limits on all points of the compass? I cling to the belief (backed up both by faith and chaos mathematics) that this seemingly random oscillation is, in reality, a cohesive whole, with meaning and identity, and a strange, complex beauty.

Sky Fashion

It would seem that gray is the new blue this season:

Now if only the temperature would drop a few degrees......

Virtual Swatching

A squashy little bundle arrived yesterday:



My first yarn purchase in months (sob), this is destined for the one really ambitious gift on my list. I have enough hard-won self-knowledge to be (somewhat) realistic about the feasibility of grand Christmas intentions, but there is a certain someone who, more than anyone, will intimately appreciate the work and thought involved. (Equally importantly, this person is also the most likely to unconditionally forgive me if life gets in the way of the exact deadline.)

The yarn is fingering weight Romney lambswool from Red Bird Knits in the Lichen colourway. I love the warmth and subtle shading - the plan is to combine it with Sangria from Fleece Artist (also purchased from RBK some time ago):



I want to create a stranded colourwork scarf, utilising some of the fabulously intricate patterns from Anna Zilboorg's Turkish socks book. I had a little crisis of confidence though, because the Lichen has more green than I thought, and the last thing I want is a screamingly "Christmasy" look. I was hoping the gold and brown would complement the red in a rich and subtle mix.

I dug into the stash and came up with an alternative:



Pretty, but rather loud (the yellow-orange is even brighter in real life). Also, I will quite possibly require pharmacological sedation if I have to spend any more time with ORANGE right now.

So I turned to my trusty photoeditor for a bit of virtual swatching (this will also answer Judy's question about my process for extracting palettes from photographs.)

First, I used the simulated watercolour function to pixellate the photo:



This helps me pick individual colours out of the optical mix.

I created a rough approximation of the Lichen palette:



And superimposed a simplified pattern sampled from the reds:



There's no substitute for actual swatching (or in the case of a scarf - beginning) but the approximation does look close enough to my intended effect to make it worth putting the yarn on the needles.

Just One Measly Scarf

I made The List weekend before last - of handmade (mostly knitted) gifts to complete in time for Christmas. I decided that I would finish them all by the end of November, so as not to ruin December with fretting and frantically knitting through the nights. I tallied and divided and counted and allotted and generated a tidy little 6 week project chart. And as we approach the end of week 2, I am now seven gifts behind schedule.

Given that, you'd think I would have used my knitting time yesterday making gifts, or perhaps finishing The Sleeve That Never Ends. Nope. In a fit of denial (or something) I did this:

Because when I walked down to the insurance place (having finally dug up enough documentation of my lifelong citizenship to be able to change over my driver's licence) it was cold. And I realized, tragically and inexplicably, that I do not own a wool scarf of my own and instead had to borrow this:

My husband's Air Force issue, deadly-itchy-lowest-bidder wool scarf. As I trudged through the drizzle, I pondered the pruritic irony that a reasonably accomplished knitter with a modest stash would not own a Decent Scarf.

There's an oddly guilty sensation that accompanies knitting for myself between September and Christmas - sort of like going to stores between Halloween and Christmas Eve: "Can I gift wrap that for you ma'am?" "No, um.." mumble mumble, "it's actually just for me." Plus I am Seven Gifts Behind. Maybe they'd all like dishcloths.....

Promise of a New Day

So you may have noticed that, yesterday's grand statement of intent notwithstanding, nothing has actually changed around here. Yet. The thing is, yesterday was One Of Those Days, and I was feeling like - well, like this:

Nothing catastrophic, just the lingering effects of a particularly nasty virus, combined with a few months of cumulative fatigue and stress. But when I sat down to the computer after lunch, and announced in sepulchral tones that I was going to switch to the new beta version of Blogger, and wouldn't it just be my luck if the whole blog vanished to an inaccessible backwater of the space-time continuum, and heaven only knows how you go about making a backup - DH all but dragged me bodily from the keyboard. Clever man. Anyhow, once the two inches of rainwater recedes from my sputtering candle stub of rational thought, I'll get on with the aforementioned improvements.

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It's Wednesday, and time for a colour project. While the autumn foliage has been spectacular, I've just been spending a little too much time with Tomato Red and Carroty Orange of late. I'm in the mood for something quieter, more subtle, soothing, even hopeful - and what could be more hopeful than the glowing dawn of a new day?

I have always been fascinated by the colour progression of sunrise:

The subtly graduated palette:

I am disinclined in this case to superimpose a "pattern" - I think I would let the colours speak for themselves in a progression of blended stripes or waves. (Though perhaps not in a sweater - seeing as the most vivid hues would highlight the midriff....) It could however, make a stunning scarf or shawl.

Practically Knit

The little fall jacket has a (mostly) complete sleeve, waiting now for a fitting. I'm not sure my present approach to the cuff is going to work - the tried and true method would have been to decrease abruptly on the first round, for a gathered effect above snug ribbing. I was afraid that with such thick fabric, the effect might be a little stiff, and opted instead to decrease within the cuff along the seam line, and drop down several needle sizes to tighten the gauge. I'm not positive it's going to be snug enough - although, since DD is highly opinionated, it could well be just right. (I was advised in no uncertain terms at the last fitting that there were "too many strings inside" - I couldn't agree more.)

Though I continue to like the design, working it has become a chore. Normally I would relegate it to the time-out pile, and indulge myself with a newer and more exciting project - but this time I can't. This is practical knitting - a warm jacket for my own child in an increasingly cold season, and since we have presently chosen a way of life that necessitates a very tight monthly budget, knitting it from the stash was the responsible thing to do.

I wouldn't begin to suggest that we are suffering real hardship here, only that knitting for purposes of thrift and practical need throws a very different light on a traditional craft which has been overtaken by impulsive acquisition and luxury consumption. I have been working my way through Ann Feitleson's "The Art of Fair Isle Knitting", and was particularly struck by the hardship expressed in the personal interviews. Knitting is certainly about creative expression and visual and tactile pleasure, but it is also about discipline, persistence, and self-sufficiency, and it doesn't hurt to connect with the latter.

Crafting protection from a harsh climate with our own hands restores a sense of immediacy in our relationship with the natural world - and by extension, creates a greater awareness of the fragility of life without push-button climate controlled dwellings. I think that's why projects like Dulaan benefit both the recipients and the knitters.

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On a completely different (and far less philosophical) note: I plan to tackle the somewhat daunting business of switching to the new Blogger platform, and checking out Haloscan for comment hosting. Quite possibly it will involve some weirdness and/or republishing, so apologies in advance to any Bloglines subscribers who get multiple copies of this post over the next couple of days.

Autumn Inspirations

We survived the Lower Mainland traffic and arrived safely home last night. It must be the cumulative time spent in small towns across Canada, because my tolerance for aggressive big-city driving culture has dwindled to almost nil (and yes, I know Vancouver is mild compared to Toronto or Montreal). The game of chicken required for each merge, lane change, or street entry, in which two cars accelerate full throttle at the space in question, the "loser" acquiesing only at the last split second before fiery death - it makes me crazy. Especially with the kids in the car. I want to stand up and scream "People! Could we not have a civilized social contract here, in which I let you in to "my" lane in a safe and timely fashion, in the full and certain knowledge that you will do the same for me another day, and the timings would all even out such that the 0.03 seconds you added to your Two Hour Commute by not trying to kill me would invariably be gained back in reciprocity?"

I read somewhere that crowded driving conditions trigger primal territorial instincts and aggression, so I suppose not much is going to change that. Well, bike paths and responsible urban planning would help, but that's an uphill battle after the fact. It does make me terribly thankful to live in Whistler, where we are privileged to have a safe and healthy living space that is also within walking or biking distance of everything we need, and fully connected by well-constructed paths.

Speaking of thankfulness, here's a bit of Whistler autumn eye-candy:










I couldn't help but dive into the tourmaline and ruby:



And the black eyed Susan got a sparkling black tourmaline eye:



My goal for today - finish this:



before the colours which inspired it disappear under a blanket of white.

Weekend WIPs

I had intended to post this on Friday, but Blogger was being recalcitrant, and we needed to get on the road, so here I am. Trying hard not to feel self-pitying over my inability to attend a festival which, until this year, I didn't know existed. Funny how that works - one of the perils of the information age, I suppose.

The schoolteachers were professionally developing yesterday (though judging by the way DD's teacher sounded on the phone Thursday afternoon - it was one of those days - I think a day of heavy drinking or a trip to the spa might have been more to the point), so we elected to spend the long weekend in Vancouver with Rob's sister and family. We intended to head to the Aquarium today, but the wee bug the kids had last weekend seems to have caught up with me, so the cousins had to content themselves with running amok together at home.

There has (except for today) been knitting:



This is some of that South African handspun wool I have been hoarding for ages. After one too many chilly scarfless mornings at the bus, I decided that, in spite of the looming Yuletide gifting deadlines, I could probably justify whipping up a scarf for me. The simple chained ribbing combined with the thick-and-thin single ply yarn produces a pleasing effect that is rustic, yet feminine.

Speaking of looming chilliness, how is it that a sleeve, which is less than half the circumference of the body, can take twice as long to knit??



This might have something to do with it:



I gave up knitting in the ends after the first inch or so, as it was both screamingly tedious and making the underarm awfully bulky, but there's still no getting around the process of snipping and switching every round. Not to mention a day's worth of weaving in once it's all done.

Any guesses what this is?



Hint: it's a gift.

And finally, Friday morning's sunrise:



I never tire of watching the mountain wake up.

Anniversary

I discovered this poem via Mamacate:

Petals in the Dirt

Ellen Dore Watson

Your words circle, mine batter. You're a ramp, I have
no wheels. The kid who gets the brunt of our love asks us not to bicker. Think
of all the people who have lost their right
hands! The friend who says: Hug me twice,
it could be a while till the next bodyI can touch. Then there's the man who claims he wants
steady, needs steady, but each woman's a lake
he's big enough to swallow. How will hunger like that
ever learn to use a napkin? When you bring me
tenderness, it looks like one more thing
I don't have time for. Maybe when it comes
to love, the happily long-married are the biggest
fools. I'm fervent but off-and-on about my roses
--how many of us are delirious when the twenty-sixth
blossom does its gorgeous thing? I wonder
if when I get home those petals will still be
luminous and melting in the dirt. I'm thinking
maybe I need them. I'm saying what would I do
without your mouth?

--from This Sharpening


Eleven years ago today, I married the love of my life. I have written about our wedding before - it was wonderful and romantic, and entirely indicative of our mutual inclination to walk away from the crowd and do what we believed in, rather than what was expected. We have faced plenty of adversity over the years - prolonged separations, pregnancy complications, colicky-baby-crankiness syndrome, ongoing parenting challenges - and have emerged from each stronger, more settled, more robust.

Now that we have embarked on the next big adventure, turning our backs on the North American dream of working round the clock just to leverage the largest possible mortgage, shelving lucrative careers and moving into a tiny apartment in order to be where and who and what we believe in, now that we have pared down all the trappings of identity and success to the bare essentials, we realize more acutely than ever that this marvelous many-layered gift of being "us" is all that ever mattered.

In the Groove

The piles of chaos are slowly melting away. I think it's something like erosion - it may take thousands of years, but eventually the mountains wear down. Or perhaps more like the end of the ice age, with little patches of floor and counter appearing as the boxes slowly recede.

In any case, my bench emerged yesterday, and I spent a happy morning with CBC on the (newly unearthed) radio, sunshine streaming through the window and the mountain view to inspire me. It was a lovely bit of "in the groove," such as I haven't had for far too long, and I finished up a couple of WIP's and one new piece.

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Thanks for the lovely comments on the scarf, although I feel compelled to mention that it is ... ahem... possibly not actually for me. Shhhhh......

Mmmmmm... Cashmere

Sunshine burst the clouds after days of driving rain,



and out of the shimmering mists came:



A simple textured rib in KP Panache - understated, elegant, squooshy-warm and oh-so-soft:



A perfect fit.

Steek Snipping

We awoke far too early yesterday, to the piercing cry of "MOM - I have to puke!" Racing barefoot to the bathroom, I got DD appropriately positioned, flipped on the light, and looked down to see the bloody skinless corpse of a little vole in the middle of the floor. I have no idea how we missed stepping in it, but with luck like that under my belt, it had to be an auspicious day for steek snipping.

The Fall Cardigan, body finished and shoulders seamed:



In my neverending quest to avoid ever lining up two flat edges of knitting to be seamed, I worked out a way to do the short row shoulder shaping and the three needle bind-off all at once, without breaking the yarn. I was quite pleased with the results, particularly the way the pattern flows smoothly across the join.



I stabilized the sleeve steeks with my trusty little Elna. I know the purists cringe at machine sewed steeks, but we can't all use authentic Shetland wool for every bit of stranded colour work (it's "sticky" enough to stay put with less secure stabilization methods) and steeking is such an elegant way to avoid both two colour purling and seams.



Took a big breath, and snipped:



Now it's on to the sleeves. Which will be somewhat tedious compared to the body, because of this:



Ten different colours, changed every round, and even I couldn't justify stranding them all together, so they get cut and reattached every time. On the body, the yarn change occurs in the middle of the centre steek, so this wild nest of loose ends will disappear with a swift stroke of the scissors come zipper time. No such luck for the sleeves. I plan to knit the ends in as I go, weaving in the new yarn before the join, and the old yarn after, so as to reduce bulk.