I mentioned a while back that I’d been doing some pattern designing.  Well, my second original pattern is now available for free on Knitters Review.  Part of what has been so fun about designing these first patterns is all of the cooperation and support I’ve received from my friends.   Jane and Clara encouraged me to write up the pattern proper after seeing my first pair, and the whole process has been a blast.  Jen has come up with astoundingly beautiful yarns for me to work with.  Shelia had great suggestions for the design itself.   Chip, of course, handled the photography with Anna Marie, Rona, Nessa, and Scott assisting (those are his hands in the men’s pair).  Anj, Marfa, Lisa, Beth, Mapgirl, and so so many other friends have been a cheering section for this pattern as I’ve worked on it, and I love them all for it.

I’ve had a really difficult Spring, but this feels like a nice reward at the end of the maze.  I’m looking forward to a lot of great time in the garden, curled up with books, at the sewing machine, around the fire with friends, in the kitchen, and on a stage or two.  Happy Spring, friends.

Tags: hedgerow mitts

The prizes are done and ready to go to Martha, Shelia, and K.

Things are blooming in the garden.

And I’m puttering away in the studio.

And visiting chickens, and friends, in Lovettsville for knitting photography (notice the “headless hen” trick below).

The phone rang.

A dear friend of ours died far too young. He was in good shape and he wasn’t stupid about his health, but he had a heart attack and now he’ll never see his 39th birthday. Mike was working late, and he died at his desk.

He was my husband’s best friend. He was the best house-mate in the world. I cried like a baby when he told us he was moving away a decade ago, and we tried for years to lure him back home. He held our wedding rings in his pocket seven years ago, joking that he had known years before Scott and I ever even went on a date that he’d stand up for us on our wedding day. He was one of the smartest, kindest people I’ve ever known. He explained string theory to me over a beer one night in a way no physics teacher ever had. He offered to put on a wig and a dress, pretend to be a short, and take the math portion of the GREs for me, but refused to shave off his beard to do it. He told the truth all of the time, even when it shocked people, but he never did it cruelly. He had a wicked sense of humor, and he was a great swing dancer. He read incessantly, and could always steer a friend away from a bad book he’d read every tedious page of. He was tall and handsome and wonderful with kids. He was the kind of guy you wish one of your friends would marry. I always thought Mike would get the chance to be the wonderful husband and father he wanted to be, and we all knew he was destined to become. Instead, all of our hearts are broken and the world doesn’t make sense.

I’ve been so quiet about my knitting over the last several months because I’ve been working on some new patterns for publication. The first, Fand’s Stole, is now available through Spirit Trail Fiberworks.

It’s a very quick, simple knit, designed to show off Jen’s wonderful silk and wilk/wool yarns.  I made the first one from leftover Spirit Trail silk yarns our friend Rosi put on the swap table at the Knitters Review retreat a couple of years ago.  I was wearing it while working in the Spirit Trail booth at Rhinebeck and a few people asked Jen for the pattern.  So I started over, pen in hand, with a different, gorgeous batch of yarns.

As simple as the pattern is, I have enough yarn on hand to make another one, and I bet I’ll do it soon.  I had a hard time handing this shop-sample off to Jen, and I worry that someone is going to fall too desperately in love with the original, which I wear a few times a week.

For you mythology buffs, Fand (pronounced “Fahnd”) was the wife of Manannán mac Lir, the Irish God of the Sea.  He had a magical Cloak of Mists, which he could use to hide things, or change perceptions, or any number of  other wonders.  When Fand fell in love with Cú Chulainn,  Manannánwas only able to reclaim his wife by waving his cloak of wonders between the lovers so they would be forever parted.

Tags: fand's stole, Spirit Trail Fiberworks

We spent the long wekend with dear friends in Canaan Valley, West Virginia.  We wandered around Blackwater Falls and the park surrounding it.  We’ve had unseasonably warm weather in the DC area over the last few weeks, but thankfully West Virginia is holding on to some winter. 

I flirted with birches, like I do.   They flirted back.

The world is full of intertwinings. 

I wish I could live in this wondrous little grove.

The cabin was surrounded by beautiful things as well.  This lichenous tree graces the dooryard. 

When we weren’t staring at trees or playing in the snow, we were cooking, playing tunes, and just generally having a great time. 

We were lucky enough to be in town for a Wiyos show at the Purple Fiddle.  Teddy Weber makes an astounding addition to the band, and I am itching to hear their new album.  They played many tracks from it, and their expanded sound is fantastic. 

A complete aside . . . I finished that second pair of Hedgerows a while ago and finally got around to snapping a picture.  I’m making slow progress on my hooked rug and fast progress on some very boring ribbed socks and sewing like a fiend, all the while wishing I still lived in the mountains. 

I’m all for small victories, you know.  Each finished row of knitting, each hem and button hole counts towards some vital tally in my head.  We just had a dessert party/bake-off at work, and my Almond Sarafina cake took the top prize.  I am absolutely chuffed.  I’d show you the cake, but there is no external evidence of it to be found.  I am really, really chuffed–did I mention that?  Ahhhh, almond cake. 

Tomorrow, we’re off to West Virginia with some good friends for, well, someone may ski.  I’ll read and sew and knit and cook and not worry or work much.

My husband was laid off last week, so I’ve been a bit distracted.  I’m working a bunch of extra hours and trying to make lots of wonderful little bags for my Etsy shop just to earn a bit extra.  He’s already had a couple of interviews, so we’re not terribly worried.  But still, with the state of the national economy, unemployment is a stressful thing to contemplate.

I got a raise, what with my shockingly professional gig as a web monkey, er, Lead Web Coordinator.  Is that not the most PC title you have ever heard for a Master Spider? I mean, really, do I get a baton AND nice juicy flies too?

Right, where was I . . .  I don’t need yarn, really, but I did want a little treat mixed in with the very mature things I need like new glasses and a decent omelet pan.  In my ongoing quest to stick to wonderful, artisinal yarns whenever possible, I looked to Finland.  And look what appeared on my front porch!  Riihivilla makes my heart flutter.  The madder-dyed yarn is one of the loveliest things I’ve ever seen.

I’m also making another pair of Jane’s wonderful Hedgerow socks.  This yarn is some particularly springy (color and texture) custom loveliness from Spirit Trail, and I adore it.  Jen really knows how to work with green.  (Man, that sock bag needs some love).  I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jane’s pattern recently, and even more time with Jen’s yarns, and most of that time has been secret.  I  can hardly wait to tell you what’s up, but I will wait just a little bit longer.

I’ve contacted a local quilter who will quilt the linen top for me, and I was shocked (SHOCKED!) by how affordable her service is.  Now I need to pick backing and binding fabrics and batting and wait patiently in the queue.

Tonight we went to Ikea, because the books are demanding better living conditions, and because I want an actual bed already.  This quilt deserves an actual bed, not just a nice mattress and box spring on the floor.  Between the asparagus planted in our garden, the Real Job, and the actual bed-frame we will assemble this weekend, I am feeling downright adult.  I hope that doesn’t mean I have to give up knee socks and The Ramones . . .

A small locker-hooked rug finished:

A bug new, hooked rug begun:

I’m using leftover and recycled yarns  for this, which is great fun.

And, finally, a huge linen scrap quilt top finished:

Excuse the flash and stray threads and skewed seams . . . Hot damn, am I glad this is done.  It’s 103″ on each side, which is truly–and unreasonably–big.  But I had all this linen, see . . .  It’s far from perfect, but I’m still in love with it.  The colors and texture in real light and up close are far more pleasing, and I love thinking of all of the garments I made for friends that left the scraps to make this.  I don’t know how I could possibly quilt something this big on my machine, and there is no place in my house where I can actually lay it out flat to set up the quilt layers, so I guess I’ll start researching local long-arm quilters.  And, you know, saving up so I can afford to hire someone to quit this beast.

Like many spinners, I have fiber I don’t intend to spin.  Some of it is stuff I used to like to spin but don’t anymore, some of it is felting fiber that I haven’t felt the need to felt, and some of it is raw wool that I only have little bits of here and there.  While I was at Rhinebeck, Jeanne DeCoster proselytized a bit about locker hooked rugs, and then I found one of her kits at Carolina Homespun, and I figured I’d give it a whirl.  I think I have a crush on locker hooking, friends.  I may be saying that because this little rug is just so green, or possibly because I can imagine using up all of the fiber I don’t want to spin but can’t bear to waste this way.  Sweet, no?  I’m nearly done now–this project flies.  If all goes as planned, the bound, washed, blocked rug will serve as a well-appreciated cat bed.   Unless I make it into an odd but very warm hat for myself.

Also, I took Shelia’s mitten class at the KR retreat, and I’ve made a fair number of mitts already, so I figured I should add an additional dimension to my class project.  I made these, using some orange worsted from Elann and a pencil roving some kind person put in the stash lounge.

I think that counts as a cross between licing and thrumming.  The inside of the mittens is, well, tentacular.

It’s actually a bit annoying.  I’ve only had a few opportunities to wear these so far, but I predict that I’ll snip all of those connections and work a bit harder on felting down those thrums.