Silk, Cashmere, and Lace

It's an embarrassment of riches over here on State Street. Today the owls brought lace patterns and skeins of purple cashmere and red and olive silk. I spent a good hour in the playground while E played with her pals, alternately staring and staring at my goods, and forcing my friend to feel the sumptuousity of the cashmere. "Go ahead! touch it! It's 100%!" Now I'm in the throes of indecision over which threads and pattern to use for my International Scarf Exchanger. It really goes against all sense and reason how peculiar I become over nice yarn. And to make things even sillier, I already had a secret cache of silks. Now I remove their shroud:



I "invested" in these slowly over the last two years, and have not for the life of me been able to figure out what to do with them. Little sachets? Nah. I did use a few yards of the pearl and lavender to make a tiny tooth bag for E--her first tooth fell out this past week, and rather than relinquishing the precious to the tooth fairy, she wants to keep it safe for herself. I now have a crazy fantasy of a silk ripple afghan. It would only cost, oh, say 1500 dollars in materials...

Every Last Bit

I'm always worried about how much of everything I waste--food, paper, consumer electronics, you name it, my garbage is shameful! That's one of the reasons my ripple/granny project appeals so much to me. I think people used to horde their yarn as precious. Waste was not only immoral, but just plain impractical. I read in one of my vintage pattern repro books that even cabling was sparing in wartime patterns--it used up too much yarn--and was only used for embellishment. The ripple afghan is a way for you to use up your stash for something useful. And even more wonderful, the little bits left over from the color runs can be used for the grannie squares!



I have found that, with some planning, this is all I am left with from a skein of yarn after it yields several ripples and pieces of a granny or two:



Now what on earth can be done with these scraps? It doesn't really make a difference in the world, I guess, but at least it's mindful...

When I think about my yarn exercise, I remember that we're in wartime right now, but who could tell? It's so easy to forget the soldiers and their families, I'm so removed from it--there's no rationing, little news, I'm not uncomfortable or worried (well, any more than usual). This is probably the time to send something overseas through a program like My Soldier. My friend told me about this lovely kit. I wonder if a soldier would like a pair of handknitted socks...probably too impractical...but it's certainly alluring!

Just Before the Green

It's true that spring has come to Brooklyn, but in its earliest, most hesitant form...the trees have little knobs all over, the windows are open at least a few hours to the fresh day, and Passover is nearly here! One of my favorite parts of our holiday cycle. The seder always feels like taking a deep breath after a long winter.

I am still rippling:



and thinking about a spring cleaning. All the dust on surfaces. The little piles of things. Oy. I'd much rather knit.

Dad

Two years gone now. My dad, Alexander:



One summer a long time ago, dad, inspired I think by this little Japanese owl




made this:



from a stone he found at our lake house. And then made more and more of these, now scattered from house to house in New York City and the Adirondacks. As are so many reminders of our Al, our dad.

Waiting

I waited and waited for spring, and it has arrived. Now I nervously await more colors for my Ripple and Grannies from Purl Soho, my most favoritest knitting store. Why nervously? I'm not sure. Why was I nervous about spring's arrival? It would come no matter what, and come it did. My joy can now only be increased by a box of Rowan cotton glace.



I also expect soon a pattern and yarn for my scarf pal's scarf--it will be lace, knit up in pure cashmere, in a color called Hydrangea, also from Purl:



Yarn! It's practically all I can think about. I'm escaping into a world of fancy yarn...

Scraps

Tomorrow is the vernal equinox, and I have a feeling of delight that borders on dread... while waiting, and in between chores, I'm adding ripples to my afghan and using the scraps for granny squares:



I've made so many of these over the years, sort of joylessly, but I joined the granny-along , and now something about the affirmation of so many others has made me a fan for the first time. Although maybe homely, they're so jolly and quick to make, and so satisfying in their little stacks.

Here's the Waldorf doll I made, from a Magic Cabin kit, for my mom's birthday:



Something about grannies, afghans, and dollies--they inhabit a gentle space outside of this mean world.

Requiem for Max

Last night, in a glittering snowstorm, Sgt. Pepper and I went out to Avery Fisher Hall to hear the Mozart Requiem. Sitting in the worn gold velour seats, Row M center, made me think as I knew it would of my grandparents Eva and Max. They took me quite often to the Met as a child and adolescent, to hear opera and oratorio. I always loved being there with them. Grandma would snooze in the dim light, despite the cacaphony. But Grandpa Max would always stay awake.

He was an extraordinary, charismatic, and eccentric person,



a photographer who made a living taking pictures of all manner of mishaps, injuries, and mayhem around New York City for use in civil lawsuits. But he also liked to design unusual mechanical solutions to various household dilemmas. And he loved to tie knots. He paid me a quarter for every knot I learned to tie properly.

Grandpa Max's father, my great-grandpa Benny, was a tailor:



I can hardly sew a stitch, though I'm handy in other ways.

More and More

The Ripple is proving to be a major project, but really fun. I love the look and feel of the Cotton Glace--so crisp and clean. And the crazy, senseless, inexorable march of colors:



It reminds me that spring is nearly here. It will cheer our bedroom for the warm seasons.

This is my favorite project in quite awhile. I'd forgotten how much I like to crochet. It was my first thing, before knitting, and it has its place in the world. Maybe it doesn't give the drape of knitting, and the patterns are more scarce, but it's really the only thing, in my opinion, for a bedspread.

The Ancestors, Part One of Several

Some of my favorite ancestors, may they rest in peace, were very good at the needle arts. My aunt Abby, for instance:



She taught me to knit, and was very good at it. She made me and my sister, when we were little, a pair of handmade cardigans, one dark red, one blue, with zippers and cables and machine washable. What could be better for little girls? We wore them out completely with love.

Abby also introduced me to the idea of really expensive yarn--she loved luxury in general! If it felt nice to touch and cost a lot, it was for her. I've come to realize how good for a person's morale it is to work with nice materials. I realize this more and more as I get older. As a result, my stash has become quite a bit fancier over the years.

My Great-Aunt Libby was memorable for her own talents:



In her later years, she began making miniskirts for me and my sister, all a simple pattern (straight side seam, gathered elasticized waist), but every kind of fabric the mind could know. Our favorite was a faux fur leopard print.

Colors

I've been rippling--the pattern is so simple; the challenge is the color progression:



I started out with such a gorgeous array of colors, but I'm not sure how they're linking up with each other.