Moth Heaven

Just When I Thought I'd Never Have Time to Spin Again

Andrew Watson sent me an email saying that my wheel is done.  I've waited for more than a year for this one, due to the specialness of the order, and his combination of scheduling conflicts and sudden work loads, but now it's finished and all he has left to do is build a shipping box and install the brass signature plate.

He apologizes for the lack luster photo because the light in his shop isn't too great, but I know you want to see anyway, right?  I know I would.

Observant spinners will note the position of the orifice.  Spinners familiar with my own personal drama around re-teaching myself to use my right as my forward hand will know how that is coming by the decision I made when Andrew called me in December to ask yet again if I was sure about this.  It's a controversial little subject in my spinning circles, but I made my decision, and I'm writing a cheque for it, and sending it off in the mail.  With only a small amount of luck, the wheel will make its debut at Spa.

Caution: Poetry Ahead

It's awhile before the next silent poetry reading, so I thought I'd just pass along something a dear muggle friend sent my way today. 

(therapy i)

I am being taught the cross

stitch on an even weave

fabric.  I love my little

linen piece of territory,

its thread and pattern

with regulated boundaries.

It rests my mind from all intrusions --

the grab, snap, rip --

the unravelling -- at borders.

No one want my cloth --

my simple yellow flower.

Susan Hahn, from The Note She Left: Poems 

Welcome to the World, Little Knitter

Nephew photos as promised.  May I present, Rowan John.

Mom, Dad, and baby all home, doing well, the usual.  Auntie, still uncertain about the first knit, but a hooded BSJ is a leading contender.  Thanks for all the suggestions.

A New Day

Something worth celebrating.   A New signature, and all it will bring.

I am an Auntie!

My sister gave birth to a healthy baby boy last night at 11:13, weighing in at 9 pounds and change.

His name is Rowan John (John is her father's name) and he's destined to be a tall one, it seems.  Pictures to come when they are available, but for now, the needles are warming up for the little guy.  What to knit?  He has a blanket, and plenty of hats, so maybe a Baby Surprise? Peapod? Or should I wait and knit him something from the Spring issue of Twist . . .? (there's a baby section for anyone who hasn't peeked at the media kit lately)

Cold Weather Impulses

The cold snap that has gripped much of the country this week did not fail to make an impression on me.  I was reminded during our run of single digit weather of the cold of my Canadian girlhood, when the river would freeze so black and hard that cars drove across it and parents could let their kids skate to school, when the slope of the 18th fairway at the golf club was the most social spot in town crowded with sledders of all ages, and everyone carried a shoe bag when they went calling. No need to ask about individual household practice: boots always got left at the door. 

The cold snap made me a little grateful that I live in New England these days as idyllic as that northerly past time may sound, because such cold as we have had would be all there would be to expect for months in New Brunswick, whereas here, we New Englanders can look forward to a few days hence when the thermometer will climb again into the 20's, the 30's even, and render all the lovely snow instead into, uh . .  ice. Okay, so maybe ice isn't a great alternative. But at least the sun feels warm during the day, and winter in general seems less a threat and more of a temporary state.

The cold has made me urgently want the warmest of sweaters to wear, so I have put aside decorative and fashionable knitting to work on my chunkier projects like Sylvi. I am ambling through the back charts to enjoy the knitting for as long as I can stand, because it is so much fun to watch the vines climb the back, twisting and scrolling ever upward.  I don't want to rush it, chill weather notwithstanding.  

So this is why I have turned again to the Mostly Merino Hebrides Cardigan (ravelry link) which had stalled at the underarms for a few months where I would have to change gears and need to knit sleeves before I could go on to the fun part, the colour work in the yoke.  A chunky cardigan this week seemed all that I could ever need to wear, and so suddenly the next hurdle was overcome and I have cast on for the first sleeve.  

South End Knitters in the Boston Globe

I got an email this morning from Beth of the South End Knitter's group pointing me to this link from Sunday's City Section of The Boston Globe. I don't get that section, living instead in the geography covered by "Globe North", but Beth pointed out that this photograph (which I guess was pretty big in the paper) includes a very distinctive arrrgyle block from the group's knit tag on a local phone pole. Tamara (ravelry link) knit that part, I would guess, given her coverage of the group in flickr, if you care to take a better look.
I couldn't be more proud.

Music to Share

I have something to share for your snowy (or not) Sunday at the needles. Sleepy Tigers by Her Space Holiday. Number 3 on their myspace page jukebox.
Enjoy!

I Heart Green Yarn

This week I have my camera out and I've got the light box all set up. I started opening up all the rubbermaid bins and documenting my stash the Ravelry way. I like it. It's fun to just open that page in my notebook and gaze at all the pretty yarn. But I noticed something.

I have certain buying habits for the stash. Ya think? This isn't even all of it. There's Foxfire Cormo Silk in an ineffably delicate blush of cloudy sage, and several shades of Jamieson's 2 ply ranging from heathery green to a preppy hunter. I have spinning fiber in limes and sock yarns in grey greens and that one shade of Zephyr in evergreen that stops my heart. For some reason, when I see the green I think, even though the evidence before you would bear witness to the contrary, that green is an unusual colour in yarn and I might never see such colour again, so I should get some of it.

I seem to have this relationship with purple too, but not nearly as chronically, because I know that when it comes to the purple, I am in good company and therefore, yarn companies will never stop making purple yarn.

But green? Green seems to be having a moment in the zeitgeist, and so, as it is with a smart pair of flats or jeans that make my butt look small, I buy a lot of it while I still can.

However, I think it may be safe to stop. Or not.

A Hat for the Mister, or, Do Not Piff at the Purple

It is a truth univerally acknowledged that a man in possession of a hat

must be in want of a scarf

The afghani cap is by Teva Durham, found in the very back of Vogue Knitting's Caps and Hats volume one (it must be noted). I knit it in Briggs and Little Atlantic, which is the same yarn I have committed to the red coat from the Twist Collective's winter issue. Small ecosystem around here all of a sudden. I am knitting in circles: hats, more hats, and then hats in the same yarn as other things.

As for scarves, I've cast on the collared Mars scarf by Veronik Avery in Misti Alpaca Worsted purple that can only be described as charred eggplant, colour #8934 which looks like dishwater on the website (as you can see at left and here). The colour in my new green spongeware bowl above (a Christmas giftie from the mister) is much more like the magic in person. Misti Alpaca knows how to do purple, I tell you. I have a whack of their lace weight in Merlot I was compelled to buy a few years ago because of the purple. This particular purple the worsted comes in has a kind of halo quality, as if it were bison, or hammered metal. It is compelling as only a purple can be. And it's dark enough that the Mister consents that he will wear it when it is done. It may be shrewd on his part, knowing how lazy I am about such things as scarves, while eyeing the pile of wips in the basket, to be agreeable and let the purple not be an issue (he usually piffs at the purple) since it may be awhile before I finish the thing. Purple or not.