restingmotion

Summer Blues. A Color, Not a State of Mind

Hello Blog!

In the interim I was plagued with a bad summer cold.  Then I took a driving trip to Texas. No photos or thoughts on that but I have been journaling regularly again, so I remain convinced that blogging will fall into place in its own time.

 

In the meantime, I have finished objects! Two finished objects!

 

First:

 

 

I finally sewed up a sweater I finished in March.  The pattern is called Anise by Katherine Mehls. It was published in Noro knitting magazine #20.  It is just happenstance that I knit this sweater in the exact same color way as is shown in the pattern.  I had originally purchased the yarn, Noro Uchiwa in color Tokyo for another project but did not like the way the yarn was working in that project.  Luckily the store had another skein, giving me enough yarn to make this sweater, which I love.

 

My progress was not a shining example of thoughtful, intelligent knitting however.   The pattern is written as an oversized tee, and although I like the look, it wanted something a little more close-fitting.  So I decided to make a smaller size and did the math to make the sweater work with my own gauge.  Then I started knitting, and started second-guessing myself.  I thought perhaps I had made a mistake and the sweater would be too small.  This probably had nothing to do with my math, or even my initial decision-making process but with some body issue or another I was going through at the time.  So I decided to make the sweater bigger and added extra rows to the sweater as I was knitting the right front.  The sweater is knit from side to side.

 

Unfortunately, after I had done the center shaping and was working on the left front, I 'forgot' that I had added extra rows (even though I had written this down) and continued according to my initial calculations.  I knitted the back as originally calculated.  Only after I finished the knitting did I actually notice that the right front was a good 1 1/2 inches bigger than rest of the sweater.  Not a good look.  But there was no way I was going to rip back almost half the sweater and reknit.  Here the fact that this sweater was knit side-to-side had an advantage.  I could simply cut the sweater, unravel the excess fabric and invisibly join the sweater back together and no one would be the wiser.    I threw the sweater in the bottom of my knitting bag and contemplated this for a week or two before actually undertaking the process.  It all came out fine, and the joining was actually fun, but I like Kitchener stitch.

 

Then I blocked the sweater.  Since it was cool and the yarn is mostly cotton, it took a while to dry.  Big Ears Weekend and Easter Week came and went and I was still tired.  The sweater languished, once again relegated to the bottom of the knitting bag.  I finally sewed it up while I was in Texas.   I like the finished result.  I like the fabric created by the yarn, I like the weight, which is light and drapes for aran-weight.  The only thing I would have done differently is perhaps start and finish the pieces differently, so that rather than seaming the side seams at the cast-on and bind-off edges, I finished with either a (visible) three-needle bind off or kitchenered the pieces together (invisible join), only seaming at the shoulders and the brief underarm/cap sleeve.  Note for future if I ever make this again, although a second iteration would be for the more boxy version.

 

I wore it this week while the weather was bit cooler (70s).  As a more fitted cotton sweater in an aran-weight yarn, this is not a summer sweater for the bulk of the Tennessee (or Texas) summers.  Perhaps it would be more versatile as a boxy layering piece, but I suspect it would then suffer from being too heavy to layer.  The resulting top can be worn as a more fitted vest or as a solo layer under a jacket, and I believe it will see a lot of wear.

 

Second, socks:

 

 

I was given the yarn, Laines du Nord Watercolor Sock, in color 137, for Christmas.  Initially I thought the color was a bit staid, and the beginnings of the first sock felt almost boring.  But things picked up as I progressed through the skein.  In the end I really like the socks, I like the light fingering yarn and the resulting fabric.  These were knit on size 1 needles, using 60 stitches and they fit well.  

 

 

For the sock knitting nerds among us, I used a boomerang heel on these rather than the fish lips kiss heel I used in my last pair of socks.  I think I like both techniques equally, although the fish lips kiss would be more appropriate if I were using a contrasting color for the heel. 

 

 

I also modified the toe shaping from the standard technique, doing one-sided shaping that fits my foot better and creates distinctly right and left-footed socks.  I am trying this because I have had occasional issues with neuropathy in my big toe since chemotherapy and I find that socks pulling across that toe can be particularly painful.  Rather than opting for looser socks, which then bunch up if I wear boots, I thought I would try a more fitted approach.  We will see how it works out.

 

 

A Knitting Update

I promised finished objects.  Finally.

 

 

First something simple:  

 

The headband was started on a whim.  I was attending a brioche workshop.  My single-color brioche swatch was progressing well, and when the instructor mentioned this pattern -- Headband with a Twist -- I just ripped out my swatch and cast on the recommended number of stitches with no thought to gauge or anything else.  It is a pretty simple project, and I am happy with the results, although I do think I could have done this a bit differently.  

My headband is a bit wider than I might prefer.  This headband was knit in Rowan's felted tweed in color Boulder, one of the partial skeins left over from the temperature blanket project.  Although I love felted tweed, and I love this headband, I think I would like a headband in a more tightly spun yarn even better. If I do knit another headband in Felted Tweed, and I might, I also think I would use a smaller needle, and possibly cast on fewer stitches, making it slightly less wide.    I do however love the headband I knit and I will wear it when the weather inevitably cools again.

 

Luckily this is a fast, fun, mindless knit and I can see myself making a few of them.  I wonder if they would be potential gifts.

 

There is one error, shown here, which I noticed a few rows after I had made it.  There is a bar across a column of knit stitches, where I forgot to wrap. It would be more obvious in a less fuzzy yarn. I intentionally decided not to tink back and fix it, decided that one error was itself an important statement, a reminder of the imperfection of life, and it is on the inside of the headband anyway.  I can't say that I made no other errors, but I did fix them all.  This is another reason I like this pattern, it is just enough to use as a practice piece, to master brioche until it becomes like second nature, and short enough that I don't become bored with the process.

 

Second project -- a baby blanket (my last blanket for a while)

 

This is knit in Blue Sky Sweater Worsted yarn in three colors.  It is a gift for my baby brother's first great-grandchild, Sloane.   Here it is spread out to block, with blocking wires running in every direction to make sure the lines and angles are true:

 

 

It is a thicker, more substantial baby blanket, what with a worsted weight yarn and the garter stitch, but I like it anyway and hope it will be received well.   It has a great feel and nice drape, despite its weight and I think it will be sturdy.  One thing I do note is that the yarn created a substantial amount of lint when washed prior to blocking, and upon looking it up on Ravelry I see that others have noted the same thing.   Today I will de-lint, remove the wires and wrap this up for delivery later this month when I will be in Texas.

April Flowers

I have a cold, mostly over the worst part of it, but this post will consist of a photo heavy reminder of April (into early May) garden flowers. Or at least the one's I managed to think to photograph.

 

The daffodils did well, they didn't mind a bit of chill, or a long cool spring.

 

 

 

 

 

It has also been a good year for the Irises.  The first to bloom were the tiny iris cristata:

Then the iris unguicularis

and their neighbors, the iris techtorum:

 

The first of the tall bearded iris started blooming about the same time as the first of my peonies.  This one is an itoh peony, named Clara Louise.

 I have another Clara Louise across the front yard, that gets its sun an hour or so later in the morning, and has perhaps an hour less sun; it blooms about a week later and the flowers are a slightly deeper pink. 

 

The Siberian iris, 'Caesar's Brother' has been blooming, along with the cranesbill geraniums.  The oldest plants, bloomed first, but these iris have been blooming for about 3 weeks now and new buds are still opening.  This bed is hidden from the street by the wall, but it greets me even time I open my front door.  The geraniums will bloom throughout the summer and are guaranteed to make me smile. 

The landscape roses have also burst into bloom in the last week.  Apricot drift.

and white Meidiland

 

The second tall bearded iris has opened, this one a deep red.  Both of these irises were purchased as dried up and shriveled specimens in an end of season deep discount bin.  I didn't know what I was getting, or if they would grow.  Both have become a pleasant surprise.

 

In the back, the peonies and azaleas were earlier in the spring and I did not get photos.  But the fringe tree is looking glorious this year (along with my garden tools and beds in progress).

 

And last but not at all least, also in the backyard near the driveway and the back deck, iris versicolor 'John Wood'.  With Garbo.

 

 

 

Four: A reentry

I'm back!

 

Am I? For real this time?  The difference between saying I will write and actually writing is like a giant chasm, a chasm that must be bridged, that can only be bridged by actually writing. I realize my priorities have shifted. I am not at all certain how that shift will manifest itself.  And yet I can spend time trying to figure it out but not writing, or I can simply hope for the best and toss my words into the void. I'll never start unless I start, as messy as that might prove to be. 

 

Let's begin with three weekends and four events:

 

First there was the Knoxville Symphony's April performance of the Mozart Requiem with the Knoxville Choral Society.  Most of the audience was there for the requiem, and it was indeed beautifully performed, even one of the more enjoyable performances I have heard.  The highlight of the evening, however, for me at least, was a contemporary piece by young American composer T. J. Cole, Death of the Poet.  Cole had been inspired by a painting by Conrad Felixmüller titled Death of the Poet Walter Reiner, which she had seen at the Art Institute of Chicago.   The painting was created as a kind of a requiem of its own, an obituary or memorial for a friend, the expressionist poet, who died of a drug overdose.  The painting is shown below:

 

 

When I looked up the painting after the concert, I felt strongly that I've seen it before, although I don't believe I've ever blogged about it.  Perhaps I should seek the painting out and take another look.  Of course, if I do that I will also want to listen to the music again.  At least there are recordings online, and I will link to one below.  

 

Both pieces, music and painting, seem filled a sense of loss and ascendance, suitable requiem material, as well as confusion and a sense of worlds on the cusp, of one world fading away and a new one being born.  Perhaps it is this overlapping sense of grief and hope, entangled together that has settled into my mind.    The music and the painting seem very dreamlike to me.  In the painting one doesn't really know if the artist is falling or perhaps flying, and I do think that is part of the point, as well as the use of intense colors and cubist images, of a world turned topsy turvy, despair intermingled with homey windows filled with pots of flowers.  The music was very lush and poignant and yet also unsettling. I find it interesting that both works were created by artists in their 20s; both also created at times of political and social upheaval.  I suspect this will be haunting my thoughts for a while.

 

https://soundcloud.com/tjcole/death-of-the-poet?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

 

The following weekend I went on a knitting retreat.  It was small, we ended up with 14 women, and the focus was on brioche knitting, although I would have gone whatever the focus, as I was mostly just interested in the idea of knitting community.   But I was game to up my brioche knitting skills.  Now I am smitten.  Prior to the retreat I was in a fairly monogamous knitting stage, with 1 project on the needles, 1 project in hibernation, and 1 project waiting to be seamed.  At the end of the weekend, I had four active projects on needles.    Needless to say I've been knitting a lot but nothing has yet been finished.  As I write this I have three projects on the needles and two awaiting finishing.  There will be finished knitting to share soon.

 

The time at the retreat helped me rekindle my focus and refine my priorities, both in terms of giving myself permission to allow hours to be spent exploring process without worrying about having something specific to show for any particular stretch of time, as well as giving myself permission to claim time for solitude.  Yes, I was exhausted after a weekend of music at Big Ears.  I was exhausted after Holy Week, and those all involved too much time spent in public spaces where I was overwhelmed with constant stimulation.  But I was also exhausted by a quiet weekend with 13 other women.  Before the retreat, I did not realize that even in this quiet setting, I would still require significant solitary decompression time.  Although I can, in fact, tune out much of what is going on around me, I cannot block it completely.  Some part of my brain is always watching, feeling, observing the minute changes in energy around me, and I need time to decompress.  Without that time I have no energy for either the social or the creative.  If anything, this retreat was the final seal of approval on accepting the need for not just silence but solitude.

 

After a calming weekend and a few days rest, I was prepared for another weekend feast for the senses.

 

On Friday evening I attended the opening night performance of  Knoxville Opera's The Marriage of Figaro, which I felt was a complete and stunning success.  A friend called it "world class" and I agree if one thinks of the production as a whole.  The company pulled off that almost magical feat of creating a cohesive, emotionally rich, enveloping world within the theater.  The singers were very good, some excellent.  The musicians were good, the acting excellent, but mostly it all just came together in a sparkling and satisfying experience.  Nothing jarred, nothing triggered that critical, comparative part of my brain. That, to my mind is always the difficult part.  The best performances somehow always come together from the heart. The finest orchestra, truly world-class voices, none of this matters if everything doesn't mesh together, and I've attended far to many operas that should have been great, but which have left me bored or disappointed.  Figaro has sometimes become such a part of the common experience that it fails to rise above its own history.  This production rose, it danced and sparkled -- Figaro reborn. I think I would call it a stunning production and one that has me yearning for more.  

 

Then on Sunday I went to the Clarence Brown Theater's production of Hair, which I also thoroughly loved.  I was too young when Hair first came out on Broadway, but I did see an amateur production of it in the mid-seventies, after we had abolished the draft, after we had finally pulled out of Vietnam, after I too had my turn shouting "Hell, no! We won't go!".   Even now I look at how those changes were shaping the world, shaping my own youth, and also the world the youth of today live in and experience.  The youth of  1968, the ones portrayed in this play, are the grandparents of the youth of today, the students who were performing in this play.  But that sense of both harmony and communal safety, as well as connection across generations was infectious.  It seemed to me like this was an apt time to reintroduce this musical to a new generation, even as I am reminded that as much as the linearity of time is a foundational principle of western culture, there is also a cyclical aspect to time and growth and human evolution.  

 

I always want to be enchanted, to be carried away, to be connected to some essential part of human nature; all of these events enchanted me in some sense or another.  In the three performances, there is a common thread, of youth, of age, of love, of loss and hope, or hope and loss (not quite the same but inextricably tied together).  Even in my retreat, in the experience of coming together and later of rest is connected to this cycle.  As the body needs sleep however, so to the heart, the head, the creative and intellectual spirit.   It seems my weekends are not time of rest but of massive input, and when the working world returns to its tasks, I need time to slow down and take it all in. 

 

Perhaps retirement is also a period of turning the world topsy turvy, of the hero coming home from the wars of work and success and rediscovering the simple acts of breath and life which are essential to us all. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Temperature Blanket 2022

The Temperature blanket is finally complete!  Although I did not finish it in February as I had originally hoped, I did finish before the end of March and that counts as a success in my book.  This means that it took me slightly over a year, almost 13 months, to knit the blanket, which is is pretty much on schedule, or would have been had I knit one garter ridge a day -- also the original plan.  Of course waiting for a yarn order also slowed things down, and by the time the yarn arrived I was wrapped up in another project.... 

 

I love the results.  Admittedly I would have liked a little more color variation in the middle of the blanket, just as I would have liked a little more temperature variation in those middle five months.   Generally however, the blanket turned out well, and the excitement of seeing what the next color would be was both motivating and a bit of a lesson in combining colors as I found myself entrance by color combinations that would not have occurred to me otherwise.

 

I purchased 21 colors of Rowan's Felted Tweed for this blanket and I used 20 of them.  Surprisingly the color I did not use was the warmest color, Rage, which was to indicate days where the high reached 96 degrees Fahrenheit, or greater.  We usually do get a couple of days a year that are that warm, but the highest temperature in 2022 was 95.  Now, we had 5 straight months where the average high was over 80, a bit of a long stretch for us, and 90 days where the temperature was over 85, which puts us right at the top edge of the normal range for this area in terms of heat index.  The extended prolonged heat was actually harder on my garden than the cold snap in December.  So I have to say the blanket was nicely balanced between being relatively mindless while also being fun and educational. 

 

 

I was inspired to knit this by the temperature blanket post at Modern Daily Knitting, and I started roughly, as they suggested with Kaffe Fassett's Garter Stitch Striped Shawl.  Basically that means I used the needle size he recommended and knit the shawl in garter stitch. I knew that my gauge would be looser than the gauge recommended in the pattern because I have knit this yarn before and have knit patterns by Rowan and this designer.    My gauge was 18 stitches and 34 rows to 4 inches (as opposed to the Kaffe Fassett pattern which got 24 stitches and 44 rows to 4 inches.  I liked the fabric created at my gauge, and I love the weight and drape of the blanket.  It does not feel too loosely knitted, in fact it feels quite ideal for my use and my preferences.

 

The finished blanket is 60 inches wide by 96 inches long.   According to my records I used 23 1/2 skeins, or 4509 yards.  I had originally estimated, from my gauge swatch, that the blanket would take 19 or 20 skeins, and I estimated that the border would take 3 1/2 to 4 skeins and both ended up right on point.  Overall I am happy. 

 

 

As you see, it fits perfectly on my queen-sized bed as a topper, and it is the right size for a solo sleeper.  It is not large enough to share, but, having been married to a blanket-hog, I long ago decided that separate blankets are the way to go both for comfort and maintenance ease.   I would rather fold or drape multiple blankets over the bed anyway, and I wouldn't be surprised if I end up knitting at least one more of these blankets during my lifetime.  I have certainly been thinking about the possibilities.

A Few Things that Made me Happy

I've been busy since last week's meditation, as has Mother Nature.  Spring is continuing apace.

 There are quite a few bright spots in the garden.  Most plants are beginning to leaf out or set buds.  It doesn't appear that I have lost much to the cold, but most of my plants are cold hardy for this planting zone, which should allow for minimum temperatures of zero or below.  Of course it didn't help that nothing was dormant and that the temperature dropped from 70 to zero, but I grew up in Texas, even if my plants didn't.  I tend to get far more bent out of shape over the things humans do to each other than I do over Natures upsets. 

 

Still, how can one's heart not be lifted by new blossoms?

 

 

Last week I told you that I had bought a brisket with the intention of making corned beef.  I have set two big chunks of brisket to cure, about 10 pounds total, which should last me a while.  Although I did not make corned beef when I was struggling with health issues, I am happy to have another batch in process.  I am running another comparison, following up on my results from the last time I made corned beef, and I will inform you of the results.    I am basically using the same marinade on both, but varying the time of the cure, as a refinement of those previous results.  To my taste, corned beef is all about the cure.  I haven't yet found a commercially available, grocery store corned beef I find acceptable, and I have been less than impressed with cures that marinade for less than 5 days (the minimum I see recommend in recipes.  Hopefully this is the beginning of a process for maintaining a household staple.  I can freeze part of the beef, and use it regularly, not just in March.  I've always considered corned beef a year-round thing, not a Saint Patrick's Day thing, anyway, perhaps that is the Jewish deli influence in my life, just as I find the seasonal corned beef and cabbage dinner to be the least interesting thing to do with a corned beef.  (Remember it is all about the cure for me).  In fact I've had more than a fair number of "corned beef and cabbage" dinners where the beef is barely cured, and could just as well be a New England Boiled Dinner, something I grew up eating.  Anyway, look for results in a week or two.

 

 

The garden is behind where it was at this time in 2020 (the last time I made corned beef also) but I am not worried about that.  What gets done will get done.  I am happy to have increasing energy, to work on things as I can, and make the best of it.  I am also happy that my energies and my mental wanderings are more forward-looking than reactive, that there is hope.

 

 

I cleaned out the freezer and the pantry this week as well, and found 4 chicken carcasses, 4 pounds of chicken backs and necks, and several gallons of leek/celery/onion/vegetable trimmings for stock.  I've been out of chicken stock for a while as well, so out came the 16 quart stock pot and a batch of chicken stock was made.  The stock is in the refrigerator now, where it has been chilling so I can separate off the layer of fat, which will be reserved for cooking.  I will be canning the remaining stock later today.  I think I have between 9 and 10 quarts to be canned.  I've already used one quart to make some soup from a bit of cabbage and lettuce that had been hanging around the fridge a little too long.  

 

In fact, leftover lettuce or vegetable soup is another one of my favorite things. My mug of soup and I are about to go sit on the deck and absorb the sunshine.  Here's to glorious days filled with hope.  Believe me, it is there if you look for it.

Meditation on leaves and blossoms

Suddenly, all around me the world is unfurling waves of hope in the form of leaves and blossoms.  Spring is undeniable. As always.  And as always we humans want to complain.  "It is turning cold again". "Winter is back". "My plants still might die".  But as much as some complain, we inevitably look forward to spring, to the return of light and warmth and color.

 

Three days ago I took this photograph:

 

Such a simple thing.  A tree has burst into bloom.  But what appeals to me the most about this picture is not just the blossoms but the contrast, the duality even, between the tree filled with blossoms and the bare trees around it, even the branch of dead leaves.  It reminds me that time and life is so fluid, so short and yet at the same time so eternal.  That spring, and even summer, is precious and brief, something to be celebrated.  And yet I don't want to forget about winter.  About rest and renewal.  It is only because the trees have gone dormant and dropped their leaves that they can burst forth anew, filled with color and life.  Growth takes energy, and strength requires rest.  

 

This is what actually struck me, this idea of dawn, of awakening.  What I love about early spring is this delicate balance between the bareness of winter and the budding new growth, the same kind of gradual awakening we see at dawn.  Yes, eventually there is the brilliance of the full sunrise, but the moment that seems the most filled with promise to me is the early lifting of the light, the promise that the cycle will renew, that tiny new buds will come forth, each and every day, each and every year, each and every life.  

 

I was thinking how fitting it is that the calendar year begins in Winter, when growth has stopped, when, in many parts of the northern hemisphere there is nothing green and blooming to be seen, just bare branches, and earth.  Not death but sleep.  I am reminded that in the Jewish Calendar the day begins at sunset, with sleep, a sleep from which we awaken.  That in Genesis, God separates the light from the darkness, or the darkness exists first, and the light comes from it.  Rest that fuels life, the darkness, the repose, the silence.  Out of the silence comes thought and creativity and creation, life itself, and that life will eventually exhaust its resources and need to return to rest.  

 

The human body is designed to need to spend one-third of its time in rest.  Surely if this were not important, and the most efficient way for us to accomplish all that we can be and all that we can do, our bodies would have been designed differently.  The only things that are  guaranteed us in life is that we will need to sleep and we will die.  To me, this is not something to be feared and dreaded so much as a reminder that we must bloom and flower and each be the best person we can be given whatever soil and air and time we find ourself inhabiting.  We must bloom, but in order to allow our blossoms to come forth, we must embrace rest.

 

Perhaps we have it backwards.  It is not our accomplishments that define us, but how we rest, how we allow creativity to blossom from repose. 

New Shoots...

Having written one blog post my brain has been filling up with ideas and things I want to write about.  And yet I don't get there, don't get the words down.  

I have just collapsed into bed, propped up on pillows hoping I have enough energy to write something, anything.  There is a warm mug of leek and celery soup on the nightstand by my side. I feel like I have been whomped, like I could settle into a puddle in the ground, but it isn't a bad thing.  I've done a lot today.  I have done a lot the last four days, so perhaps my body needs a rest.

 

But I also want to find my words.  Let's just consider this part of the process of new growth, or spring in East Tennessee.  The sun shines, the air grows warm and gentle breezes caress the skin, then the temperature drops and we have icy frost, or torrential rains, or tree-felling winds.  I go to sleep only to waken to another gentle clear day.  All part of the process.  Energy, tiredness, creativity, action, rest. Spring rebirth in the making.

 

The brain seems to require a lot of energy and I've had more ideas than I've managed actual posts. But I am hoping to manage a few words.

 

I am surrounded by daffodils and forsythia and spring trees bursting into bloom.  These are mostly my neighbors blooms.  My daffodils are later varieties, and I live on the shadier side of the street, so most of my plants bloom about a week after my sunnier neighbors, but my yard is not bare.  The roses have leafed out, the hellebores have been lush with blossoms for weeks now, as have the camellias.  The geraniums are blooming, and I even have my first daffodil.  No complaints. No dearth of promises.

 

I've had my hands in the dirt, digging and clearing the planting beds in the vegetable garden.  The sorrel is up, replacing the bed ripped out by an over-eager landscape worker last year.  Chervil and arugula are up as well.  I got the pea trellis up before the torrential rains and wind, which ripped the trellis up and tossed it across the yard.  I'm glad the peas weren't yet on that trellis.  I hope to plant them this afternoon.  I said that yesterday as well.

 

I've cleared out the bramble patch (roses and blackberries), after which I needed a nap.  I'm still not rushing myself.  What gets done will get done in its own time.  Nature has her own schedule, and apparently so does my body, independent of what my mind might will.  And yet, my energy today is exponentially greater than it was at this same time last year. 

I picked up a whole brisket today when I was out shopping.  I am planning on curing some corned beef. It has been a couple of years.  I might braise one chunk of it to eat while I wait out the brining process.  I've not yet decided. The fact that I am feeling more adventurous in the kitchen is a good sign, that not only do I dream but I have the wherewithal to act.  Hands in the dirt, playing with thread, playing with words, working until I am actually tired and then allowing myself to rest.  These are all signs of growth, of life, of what is important.  It is these little things, an hour cleaning out a flower bed, planting seeds, knitting yarn into fabric, making soup -- .these are the things that are fulfilling to me, that make life feel worthwhile. 

But my weariness has not abated.  Time to surrender to slumber. 

 

Two Concerts and A Book, or Slowly Finding My Way Back to Words

I hit a wall when I started thinking about what I would write about if I wasn't simply posting about knitting and sewing progress. Before I knew it six weeks had passed with no resolution to my writer's block.

 

Today, then, I am just going to write whatever nonsense and emotional drivel is channeled through my fingers and toss it out into the world unedited.  There is no help for it, as I find I have become an expert at procrastination and can distract myself with all kinds of useless pursuits in order to avoid writing.

 

Granted, I began the year questioning the very notion of who I am and who I wish to be.  Many of my prior assumptions seem no longer valid  with many pursuits simply not paying off with either joy or satisfaction commensurate with the energy extended.  How could I write when I didn't even know who I was?    What I did know is that I don't want this blog to be a storage place for lists:  books I have read, concerts I have attended, the things I have knitted, garments I have sewn.  But I haven't known how to make the transition to whatever it is that this blog is becoming.  It will continue on; I am not ready to give it up.  

 

In order to get myself over the hump it seems I need to fall back onto hold habits.  I attended many concerts in January and early February, two of which resonated deeply and continue to hand my memories.  I also read five books in January, all of which I enjoyed, but one of which resonated deeply.  I shall fall back on these things, concerts and books, and see where that gets me.

 

 On one evening I attended an organ recital and the Mendelssohn Sonata,  No 6 in D minor, brought me to tears.  Not something that usually happens to me at organ recitals.  They were not tears of sadness, perhaps simply of depth of feeling.  I did not know the piece, but the first two movements seemed imbued with a sense of history and the weight of belief and culture, all wrapped in warm tones and beautiful playing; the fourth movement seemed transformative, as if that same sense of history was being brought into some sort altered present.

 

The other concert that surprised me was a chamber music concert which I almost did not attend. The concert opened with Ethel Smyth's Suite for Strings, which was followed by Jeff Midkiff's Mandolin Quintet #2 and Dvorak's Serenade for Strings.  I didn't expect much from the Midkiff as I had been completely underwhelmed by the one work I had heard previously.  I was surprised because I liked the first half of the concert far more than the second half.  The Smyth was delightful and full of energy.  It was a lovely romantic work that in places reminded me very much of Dvorak, and made me wonder if that was part of the reasoning behind its placement on the program.  This was also a bit of conundrum because it was written too early to have been influenced by Dvorak's later works, and yet I felt (or imagined) a strong connection between this early Smyth and late Dvorak.  Anyway, this had me wondering if there had been any Smyth music performed in the Dvorak and His World program at the Bard Music Festival decades ago.  But I am terrible at remembering those things, terrible at saving papers, and was not blogging then, so I have no point of reference..

 

The Midkiff completely surprised me.  The mandolin Quintet #2 "Gypsy" had a strong, even thrilling opening with a chromatic melody carried by the violins over an almost droning reverberation from the cellos.  It was fully satisfying both intellectually and emotionally. A fiery and turbulent work, with alternating passages of "gypsy" and "folk" passages, this was a far more rewarding introduction to the composer.   Dynamic and sophisticated, with complex harmonics, it completely changed my impressions of Midkiff's work, enough so that I would now seek this music out.

 

And that leaves reading matters.  

2023 Booklist:

1.  The Invisible Kingdom. Meghan O'Rourke
2. Everything Good will Come. Self Atta
3. The Secret Servant. Daniel Silva.
4. Pandemia. Alex Berenson
5. Where'd You Go, Bernadette. Maria Semple.

The Invisible Kingdom and Pandemia  are both non-fiction and are outside my purview for reviews.   That leaves three novels.

 

I have been working my way through Daniel Silva's Gabriel Allon novels, and read this one, number 7, in January.  I thoroughly enjoyed it.   The books contain enough history and historical fiction to prove both thought-provoking and compelling.  They are not high-literature, nor are they for the squeamish, but I thoroughly enjoy them and I find the character of Allon fascinating and all too human. 

 

Where'd You Go Bernadette was a reread for a book club.  It is a light, effective, satire although it didn't quite hold up to a second reading.  I still love Bernadette and her daughter.   The first time I read the novel, this is what I wrote: "the aspect of this novel I enjoyed the most may be the way the author portrays the tyranny of those without imagination." I think I still have nothing further to add.

 

But the book that really captured my imagination, and which I still find cropping up in my thoughts is Nigerian author Sefi Attar's Everything Good Will Come.   I rarely write reviews of the novels I read on the websites where I catalog my library and reading lists (Goodreads) and (LibraryThing), but this time I did.  Even here though, I am not interested in writing a proper review, and this too is rough and unedited.  A step beyond my journal notes, perhaps, I am only interested in my own impressions, and what resonated in the book with me, not some grand analysis of the book's worth or meaning.

Mardel's (rough) review from Library Thing:

Everything Good Will Come is a novel about Enitan, a child of Nigeria, a child of privilege, a child who becomes a young woman, who through the process of fulfilling one dream, the dream of becoming a mother also fulfills another dream, one that had existed, unspoken, but constantly present in her inner unrest --  the dream of becoming not just a woman, but a person who decides for herself, not just accepting the decisions others make for her -- the dream of becoming a citizen.

Much of the beginnings of the book are rooted in Enitan's childhood, in her friendship with Sheri, and in the ways she is both sheltered and privileged. In some ways the book seems like two novels, the novel of the young Enitan and Sheri, which occupies the first two sections of the novel, and a second novel about Enitan's road to self-actualization. In truth the first part is just the necessary underlayment for the second, but the reader may be surprised by the shift, and it does in fact take some time for the structure to play out, and the interleaving of thoughts, memories, stories, to coalesce.

I personally found the last portion of the novel to be the strongest but I can admit that it took some time and patience for me to grow into the rhythm of the narrative. Enitan is not always likable, but she is human, and thoughtful, and kind. She is also argumentative, and she struggles with her own demons, her thoughts often sabotaging her own happiness.

Her father always told her that people have choices. He didn't say that those choices were equal, in his world-view they were not. But Enitan also realizes that choice is a "condition of the mind" and that most of the time "I was as conscious of making choices as I was of breathing." As are most of us.

Atta takes care to show us how Enitan's thoughts and actions develop and evolve, often in small steps, often repeating and circling back upon themselves. How she struggles with her own internal dialogue about separating the personal from the political, the way that life is compartmentalized in her milieu, and her gradual realization that she cannot separate the two, that the personal and the political are one and the same.

There are flaws in the narrative, spaces where the prose shimmers with light, and other places where this reader stumbles. I can see how readers may become lost in the weeds, but through it all, I do think Sefi Atta achieves something marvelous here, and the book is well worth reading.

Favorite passage:
"When people speak of turning points in their lives it makes me wonder. I can't think of one moment that me me an advocate for woman prisoners in my country. Before this, I had opportunities to take action, only to end up behaving in ways I was accustomed; courting the same old frustrations because I was sure of what I would feel: wronged, helpless, stuck in a day when I was fourteen years old. Here it is: changes came after I made them, each one small. I walked up a stair. Easy. I took off a head wrap. Very Easy. I packed a suitcase, carried it downstairs, put it in my car. When situations became trickier my tasks became smaller. My husband asked why I was leaving him. "I have to," I replied. three words; I could say them. "What kind of woman are you?" Not a word. "Wouldn't you have tried to stop me too?" he asked. Probably, but he wouldn't have had to leave me to do what he wanted.

 

 

Looking Back 2: The Knitting Front

Another glance over my shoulder perhaps, this time looking at my knitting progress in 2022.

Let's get the statistics out of the way first.  In 2022 I finished 10 projects and used up 71 skeins of yarn totaling 10,909 yards.  On first glance, it looks like I knitted less than the previous year in that there were two fewer finished objects, but the objects were larger and used more yarn.  Technically, it is not about yarn use, although that was one of my goals, or number of finished objects, but both of methods of accounting serve a purpose.

More specifically, the project breakdown was as follows:

• two blankets
• one soft-sculpture (toy)
• four shawls
• one pair of socks
• two sweaters

Now let's look at that more thoroughly.

There were no photos taken of the two blankets or the toy.  The toy and the first blanket was started in 2021 but never really photographed or blogged.  This was probably because I had mixed feelings about them from the get-go, but I was too pig-headed to give up, rip out, and start something new.  Instead I forced myself to finish both and promptly gave them away. The second blanket was one of those crazy ideas where I decided at the last minute to knit a baby blanket, finished it in a desperate rush, and immediately presented it to the new parents.  I really liked that blanket, but I was too overwhelmed at the time to deal with record-keeping. 

 

After that experience I decided I would never force myself to finish something again.  I would admit defeat or I would rip and repurpose. Luckily, my remaining projects of the year turned out to be far more satisfying, although admittedly there were some false starts and some ripping out.  Each false start then became a challenge and an opportunity.  Not all of those opportunities have yet been realized as projects, but I have found a certain satisfaction in the simple act of swatching, in letting a yarn tell me what it is, even if that initial exploration does not yield immediate results.

 

But now that the disappointments are out of the way, what about the successes?

 

I knitted four shawls, the first three of which were blogged (shown above). Shawlography, (pink, purple, green wool) was started as part of Stephen West's 2021 MKAL.  It was challenging, often fun, and sometimes maddening.  None of the techniques were particularly difficult in and of themselves, but West did put things together in ways I would not necessarily have thought of if left to my own devices.  Knitting this shawl was both fun and a constant struggle.  This was partially due to the fact that my fingers, beset with lingering chemotherap-induced neuropathy, struggled to maintain tension, and partially because I was constantly fretting about my color choices. Half the time I was convinced that the resulting shawl would only be suitable for a clown show, and it was not until I knit the final border that I could admit to being happy with the result. Even so, it gets the least wear of the three, primarily because it makes the boldest statement.  Still I think it was the accomplishment I was most proud of.  I learned a great deal knitting it, mostly because the brioche was not kind to my hands.  The brioche was ripped twice and reknit, even with the ripping and reknitting, I struggled.  The sense of accomplishment I feel for this shawl is primarily due to that brioche section.  Not only did I come to love brioche, I taught myself how to drop down to repair individual errors in brioche without ripping back and entire section, an accomplishment of which I am still proud even though I can honestly say that if the mistakes are many and frequent, it is still easier to simply rip back. Skill-wise, this shawl was my greatest accomplishment of 2022.

 

The cream striped Nantucket Summer shawl was the biggest shawl I knit in 2022, at 22 x 120 inches.  It is almost a blanket and it has admittedly seen me through many cool evenings on the patio as well as early mornings watching the sun rise, coffee and hand. The yarn was originally intended for a cardigan, but as I have a long-standing aversion to heavy cotton cardigans, I feared it would be a cardigan I would never wear.  The shawl is wonderful and I wrap myself up in it all the time, a perfect choice for me.

My absolute favorite knit of 2022 was the Artyarns silk wrap I named blue wave.  This was an absolutely fun knit, full of short rows and changing colors.  It required attention but was not particularly difficult and it was so exciting that I raced through it.  This shawl was completely fun to knit and the results are absolutely gorgeous. Using 766 yards of Artyarns beaded silk and sequins light, knitting this wrap is an indulgence but well worth it.  If I could justify having two versions of such a distinctive wrap, I would happily knit it again.  It was that much fun.  

 

 

My final finished project of 2022 was the fourth shawl, seen above.  This shawl was knit in Noro Kakigori, a mostly cotton and silk yarn, using the "Stormy Sky" pattern by Ksenia Naidyon.   Originally purchased for use with another yarn in a different project, it became evident upon swatching that I hated the two yarns together and felt that this yarn was completely unsuitable for its originally intended use.   Upon further swatching I decided that I liked the fabric the yarn created and that it would be lovely as a relatively simple shawl.  It is a not particularly large shawl, with both drape and a touch of crispness, which I think will prove very versatile in Knoxville's climate.  I would happily knit with more Kakigori, because it creates a lovely fabric, although the yarn itself tends to want to twist up on itself while knitting, so it does require a bit of patience.

 

 

The one pair of socks knitted in 2022  have proven quite satisfactory.  I intentionally knit them longer than my usual, perhaps a tad too long, but they still get worn. The Mominoki Finnwool, used for the body of the sock, is 100% wool without the nylon usually added for sock yarns.  It was a remnant from Shawlography and put to good use here.   I actually prefer socks that are pure wool without nylon, but they don't tend to wear as well, and so, as it true for so many things in life, represent a trade-off.  These are holding up well, except for a bit of wear at the back of the ankle above the heel.  I suppose it is a bit early to see that much wear after less than a full year's wear, and that area will be mended when the time comes.  I love the socks nonetheless.  

 

As I look in my sock drawer, I see that I need more socks, and I am loathe to purchase them.  It seems that there must be sock knitting on the horizon.  I have thought of exploring breed specific wool, looking for hard-wearing wools that hold up better for socks and I may well do that.  In the end, however, I will probably mostly use nylon reinforced sock wool, which comes in many pretty colors.  Although I may struggle with a brightly colored shawl, I have no issue with wearing carnival-colored socks.  The first pair of socks I ever knit are still going strong, after 13 years, knitted with KnitPicks simple stripes, 75% wool yarn, a ringing endorsement if ever there was one. I will admit that the tutti-frutti color palette of that first pair is not one I would chose today, but those socks simply will not die. That specific yarn has been discontinued, but I would think KnitPicks' sock yarn would still be a good economical and hard-wearing option if that is a consideration.  But longevity is not my primary criteria when knitting socks.  I am all for knitting, and wearing, what one loves and we each make the compromises that best suit us. I am fine with balancing practicality with comfort in my sock wardrobe,  but also admit that there is nothing quite as nice as cashmere socks on a cold evening, even if they are not practical for everyday wear.  Perhaps my sock wardrobe needs a touch of softness, as well as an indulgence in frivolous colors.

 

 

Even though I was once almost exclusively a garment knitter, I only knot two sweaters in 2022.  The first, a cardigan finished in June, was not really worn until fall, when the temperatures had cooled.   Although it is not a winter cardigan, being knitted with cotton/nylon/polyester novelty yarns, this was not a sweater for hot humid summer heat.  It may have been had I followed the pattern as written, which was for a cardigan with more ease and drape..  After knitting my swatches however, the hand of the resulting fabric reminded me of the kind of light drapey boucle that is often used for soft Chanel-style jackets, and I decided that a short, more fitted cardigan was required.  I altered the pattern accordingly, individualizing it by taking in some of the asymmetry I was finding in my sewing pattern sloper development.  There was some fudging, and some ripping and reknitting, which is not easy when three rather snaggy strands are held together while knitting.  But I am absolutely enamored of the finished cardigan.  This is not a hard-wearing everyday sweater but more of an occasional item.  I need to take care not to catch the rather fine sequined filament that runs through the sweater on buckles, latches, or even rings and other jewelry.  This cardigan wants to be the star of the show in its own understated way.  It is a sweater I can imagine myself wearing for a long time. 

 

 

The second sweater was for a wool shell or vest, knitted to be worn as a layering piece.  The pattern was Carol Feller's Trellis top, and I used the recommended yarn, Stolen Stitches Nua Sport.  Even thought I used the designer's yarn I did not quite manage to get gauge, My gauge was slightly tighter in stockinette, but the same as the recommended gauge in the pattern stitch.  Since I wanted to make my sweater a bit more close-fitting than the pattern, this was easy enough to manage.    Aside from size issues, I more or less knit the pattern as written with the exception of the shoulder shaping and the finishing.  The original design is looser and more casual, with  button bands in lieu of seamed sides.  As I was seeking a more classically close-fitting silhouette that could also be worn under a jacket, I simply seamed the sides.  I am very happy with the result and this sweater has already proven to be a favorite.  I wore vests frequently in my 20s and early 30s, did not wear them in the intervening decades, and find I now reach for them again and again, something to consider as I contemplate future knitting.

 

As to 2023, who knows.

 

My plan is to begin the year by finishing the temperature blanket I started at the beginning of 2022.  This started as a whim, but I have mostly stuck with it.  I put the blanket aside during the hot months and picked it up after Thanksgiving, trying desperately to catch up.  When the year ended, I had knitted the blanket through the last day of September, or three-quarters through the body of the blanket.

 

I am determined to finish this blanket before finishing anything else this year.  Since January 1 I have knitted 47 garter ridges, which finished out October and put me half-way through  November.  I should finish the body by early February and then I need to pick up and knit the borders, As you can see from the blanket, spread out on my bed, the borders will be long, and I am thinking now that I do not want them to be particularly narrow, although I am considering the idea that the side borders may be wider, perhaps, than the top and bottom borders. I haven't yet calculated what color the borders should be, but if I am serious about finishing this, I should figure that out and make sure I have the yarn in house before it is needed, simply to avoid further delays.  I do know that should I put it aside, it will be difficult to pick back up again, so best to keep knitting until it is finished.  The blanket itself is fun because I love watching the color patterns unfold.  The border of course will be more tedious, but the reward will be in the joy of curling up under it on chilly evenings.

 

Also on the schedule for this year is to finish a modular, log-cabin style blanket I started knitting out of Plymouth's Baby Alpaca Grande,  I do think I will take a short break between blankets, finishing something smaller.  I have another sleeveless cotton sweater on the needles, although I am not devoting much time to it at the  moment.  The cotton sweater is my portable project, but the blanket remains my main focus and the center of all my crafty energies at the moment. Expect that knitting updates may be few and far between at least for the first quarter of the year.