cloth.paper.string

october morning

This morning we walked through the woods, across the dunes and along the shore.  I can't imagine living far from the beach.

park point swing jacket

Another sweater, another journey.  I bought the yarn and swatched over a year ago.  Started the knitting in the dead of winter.  Stopped when I realized just how much I hated the drape.  Unraveled.  Started again with bigger needles and a double strand of yarn.  Moved on to other things.  Became increasingly uninspired to knit a bulky sweater as the ice on the lake began to melt.  But when the mornings began to hint of the coolness ahead, I picked up the needles again.  Quickly, the sweater emerged, thanks in large part to the thick yarn and big needles.

As I knit, I thought of buttons I purchased at a local craft fair last fall from Westside Beadery.  Barbara collects smooth dark gray stones from the shore of Lake Superior and somehow drills holes into them to create beads and buttons.  I've been keeping the small buttons for the right project, but kept coming back to the idea of having similar, though bigger, buttons from lake tumbled stones on this sweater.  Then I forgot to add the buttonholes. 

I unraveled enough to add one button, realizing that one would actually be better than the prescribed three.  I also decided that a big stone button shouldn't have holes.  After a little emailing with Barbara to see if she had any such buttons, it was determined that with a little glue I could easily turn a stone from my collection into a button.  I neglected to ask her what kind of glue to use.

Don't try to glue a metal hook to a porous rock with krazy glue or standard glue gun glue.  It won't work.  Hellbent on not going back to the store, I dug through the basement shelves and found some Gorilla Glue.  I dabbed a bit onto both ends of a flat metal hook from my sewing basket (one that you might find on a skirt or pants), clamped it onto the stone with a clothespin and crossed my fingers.  And it worked.  It's a bit ugly on the back, but we'll keep that as our little secret.

I fortified the button with a smaller button attached to the underside of the knit fabric, like you see on wool coats with big buttons.  And, since the sweater is double-breasted, I added a hidden snap to the side without the button so that the sides would hang relatively even.  The placement of the button and snap took some adjusting to get just right (the button placement is wonky in the photo with good light, and good in the photo with wonky light).

All in all, it was a satisfying knit and I'm pleased with the results.  I'm excited to have a sweater jacket for the fall and spring, and too, a thick sweater for those awful days in the middle of winter when I find myself wearing a hat in the house because I can't seem to shake the cold that settles into my bones. 

Many other interpretations of the pattern can be found on Ravlery.  My version goes a little like this...

pattern :: Drops Jacket with A Shape, size medium
yarn :: Cascade Ecological Wool; 3 skeins, double stranded
button :: fashioned from a rock collected somewhere along Park Point
needles :: size 13 circular
modifications ::  I knit the body in the round and the sleeves straight which made for some interesting assembly.  I opted for the function of long sleeves; the snow has already started to fall here, after all.  I would have made the collar taller, but ran out of yarn (I guess the sleeves didn't have to be quite that long).

outside and in :: orbs

Outside we found a familiar shoreline changed dramatically by wind and water. The beach around the bend we used to visit for collecting is now craggy rocks. The craggy rocks closer by are now surrounded by a beach for collecting. The great movement of rock revealed more treasure, including the mother of all beach marbles and one of her babes.

Inside the wild plums were readied. The longer the finished jam sits the more willing I am to accept the fact that the batch is only good if you don't let the tannic aftertaste catch up with you.  While making it I kept tasting, kept getting hooked on the sweetness of the plum paired with the fresh ginger, kept thinking of the jam slathered on homemade bread.  My resident testers immediately puckered their faces; and the less refined one spit her toast on the floor.  If time and temperature are yielding I'll go back to the tree and try again.  I so want gingered plum jam.

bayfield blues

Monday was atypical.  And perfect.  I played hooky and we went to Bayfield County, Wisconsin to pick blues.  We managed to weigh in sixteen pounds from the bushes at North Point Farm - had they weighed us before and after picking, I'm certain a few more pounds could have been accounted for.

On our way home we stopped in a lakeside village aptly named Cornucopia.  We took off our sandals and walked along the sandy beach, listening to the waves and watching the light on the water.

Suddenly it feels like the end of an already abbreviated summer is here.  I'm hoping to squeeze in a few more of these atypical days, so as to preserve moments, like berries, for the long winter ahead.

winter's beach glass

The big lake doesn't have discernable tides, but it is forever changing.  The ongoing tussle between freeze and thaw in winter makes for some amazing scenery.  I brought the snowshoes for my walk along the point today, but most of the snow had been blown away.  I wore them anyway, using their sharp metal teeth as crampons so I could climb on the mounds of ice and get a little closer to the place where the liquid and solid meet.

Along the frozen shore, chunks and shards of ice were softened and tempered by the sun.  They sparkled.

Another sparkly thing for me today is that I'm one of this month's guests here.  To say that I'm thrilled to be a part of this exciting project is an understatement.  Emily and Molly sure know how to throw a party.

the caves

We recently ventured out to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore to see the mainland caves.  I've heard them referred to as 'sea caves' but this doesn't make much sense to me since the sea is about salt, and the great lakes are as fresh as can be.  I've also heard folks call them 'ice caves' but this name is seasonal, of course. But never mind the name, this place really can't be summed up with words.

In the warmer months, the caves are accessible by kayak, and only by those with paddling expertise.  As the temperatures drop splashing water freezes, layer upon layer, on the red rock walls of the chambers.

Eventually the lake itself freezes solid and for a few weeks each winter, it is safe to hike out to the caves.  It was amazing, and admittedly, a bit unsettling out there.  I could hear the lake, its dull bass thump and bump reminding me of its power.   Every now and again I'd step on the uneven surface and it would give way -- just the top layers, but enough to stir up my adrenaline.  And twice, a popping crack left me wondering just why I was out there.  And then I'd look up. 

inside and out : january weekend

Inside another loaf of bread is devoured.  It's another modification of the no-knead European Peasant, this time with home brewed stout. 

Outside the shifting winds pile ice along the shore, while the subzero temperatures create new ice on the lake overnight.  Brave fisherfolk venture out, drill holes in the surface and drop their line.  You can see how close they are to the open water here.

sunsetting

Last week I stopped on the way home from a meeting up the shore to catch the setting sun atop Oberg Mountain.  I can't remember the last time I hiked alone, but it was just what I needed.

This spur of the Superior Hiking Trail winds its way through a maple forest, opening up along rocky ledges again and again revealing striking vistas.  Both up and down the shore of Lake Superior.  Out across the Sawtooth Mountains. 

Experiencing the end of the day; the end of the season.  Fitting for the moment, as a project I've been working on for over two years had just come to a close without ever truly coming to fruition.  I am disappointed; and, the decision is just what I hoped for.  Walking beneath the cedars, stepping on their fallen seedpods, I was reminded that while every seed holds the potential, not all can become trees. 

summer is...

THIS beach glass found on today's walk along Park Point. It doesn't get much better than this does it? Of course, I'm now determined to find a matching THAT...

Grace recently created the Summer Is: flickr pool to share bits of summer.  She has also invited a handful of women to share their interpretations of summer through the month of August while she dedicates her efforts to an enormous project.  I was thrilled to be called upon to join in and look forward to seeing the season through the eyes of others.

If you're visiting here for the first time via Uncommon Grace, welcome!

spring up and down

After a week of each and every flu symptom cycling its way through the family, we finally were all able to get out of the house together.   The sun called us outside.

Friday we went up.  Up to the ridge to walk through the woods.  The snow was deep off the trails, but the creeks were flowing strong with muddied green water.  The snow was pocked by leaves, stones and pine cones warmed by the sun, accelerating the melt.  The willows were pushing forth their furry buds.

Today we went down.  Down to the point to walk by the lake.  The last bits of sandied ice were melting fast, lapped by the cold blue waters. The sand was soft, almost calling for bare feet.  And the grasses in the dunes were donning shades of green.


Tonight thunder, lightning and snow.  Spring indeed.