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small is beautiful

I'm a big fan of keeping it local and supporting small family-owned businesses.  Like the CSA from which we get fresh vegetables throughout the growing season.  And the nearby farmer who raises cows, one of which we split with neighbors and friends this winter and will feed us through the year.  And the farmers cooperative that brings eggs with the richest of yolks to our food cooperative each week.

Last night I happened upon another way to support a small farmer.  The Martha's Vineyard Fiber Farm is offering shares of the first-ever wool CSA.  Buy a share and you get a portion of this fall's shearing.  How amazing is that? 

I'm taken by this concept for many reasons.  The small part, of course.  But also the fact that I'm currently knitting the tangled yoke cardigan with yarn that is from sheep that grazed in pastures next door to my parents house.  Each stitch seems to have a bit more significance, as I wonder how it will feel to go back to knitting with the equivalent of 'big box' yarn.  And too, while the Fiber Farm isn't local if you consider my current location, it is located on the island where I grew up. 

But as much as I really want one, I'm not going to buy a share.  It's beyond the current budget.  And I know that there's more interest than the farm will be able to accommodate, as they're receiving some well deserved press, and selling the limited number of shares like hotcakes.  And I know that I'll be able to purchase some of their yarn when I visit the island this fall -- I'll be able to meet the farmer, pet the animals, touch the yarns, see their colors and hues.  And too, I know there are probably plenty of fiber farmers (though not CSAs) in my own backyard that I could support through the purchase of their yarns.  I just need to find them.

smattering

There's not much focus to be had around here these days.  A stomach flu swept in on early Thursday, and seems to have taken root.  I have yet to actually experience the symptoms firsthand, but have been covered in them repeatedly over the last few days.  Nice.  Four loads of laundry a day nice.  Six pairs of pyjamas and three sets of sheets in one night nice.

I've been able to sneak bits of respite here and there. 

Trimming and packaging of the prints for the gocco swap. 

Practicing knitting with two colors, one in each hand.   

Tonight fresh snow is falling.  Tomorrow is a new day.  I so hope it's one where food stays in the belly of the babe.

new love

I've broken up with the hourglass.  I had searched for ages for the perfect sweater to knit with the wool from my parent's neighbor's sheep.  The wool that I dyed this time last year when the days were gray and dreary.  The yarn that is destined to become the first adult sized garment I've ever knitted.  I honestly thought the hourglass was THE ONE.

After a torrid affair that included knitting about a third of the sweater twice, I realized that there was too much of the same-old same-old.  Too much round and round to keep my attention.  Knit, knit, knit was all that sweater ever wanted.  It refused to challenge me and I clearly wasn't going to grow in the relationship.  So I left it.  Months ago.  And while I knew I wouldn't go back, I didn't have the nerve to tell it that it was over.

But now that I've found a new sweater to invest tens of thousands of stitches in, I have to make it official.  I've been spending all my spare time with this one, sneaking stitches every chance I get.  My new love is the tangled yoke cardigan, and I found it through Ravelry.  I know nothing about online dating, but I can't help but think of Ravelry as the internet matchmaker for knitters and knitting projects.

As might be expected, my new infatuation has prompted me to spiff up my notions bag.   The fabric is linen from a thrifted skirt, the pattern is the travel pouch from Last Minute Fabric Gifts.  A good little bag for all of those knitting tools.  But enough about that, I'm must get back to my knitting affair...

blues: inside and out

Outside, steam rises off the deep blue lake.  Heat is all relative when the air temperature is -18 degrees F.  Needless to say I didn't stay outside for long.

Inside, the blue cable sweater is finished.  For the second time.  I ended up getting help at the local knitting shop, thanks in part to all of the encouraging comments and emails.  Picking up stitches isn't that scary after all.  Even if there are over thirty to pick up...

knitting lessons

A little blue sweater will not stop teaching me lessons.  The first was how simple a cable is to make, and how silly I was to have feared them for so long. 

The second was that simple patterns can easily be knit in the round, but it's much better to knit sleeves from the top down rather than the bottom up -- this should have been obvious, since I was knitting in the round to avoid seams, after all.  And, I tried it both ways.  On both sleeves.

The latest lesson is that there's something wrong with my three-needle shoulder bind-off.  Seriously wrong.  Washable merino is good provided the garment is actually pieced together properly.  The little one wore the sweater just once before the washing machine so callously pointed out my error.

I'm tempted to give it to the cat at this point.  The sweater just fits my growing girl, but while she wore it she rubbed her belly and repeated mama and y-aaah-n and nit-nit-nit with such a sweet mix of pride and tenderness, that I really want to fix it for her.

And I think there are more lessons in this little blue turtle.  Like, how to pick-up stitches, and lots of them.  And if it's even possible to fix a completed sweater with a large portion of the back shoulder -- between the neck and the sleeve -- unraveled.  What do you think?  Should I bring it to the nearest knitting clinic for some hands-on help or is the sweater now teaching me about letting go?

littlest knits

I recently finished up a tiny little sweater for Ana's babe, who is due to come into this world in the next few days.  As I sized it up to my wee one I realized exactly how much she's grown, how much she's changed, how fleeting these last twenty months have been.  It is too easy to forget exactly how small she once was.  How her foot didn't come close to spanning my opened palm.  How her littlest toenail was but a speck.  How her entire body fit within the crook of my arm.  I can look at photos and see the changes, but watching her wrestle a bear into a sweater that would have swallowed her in those first months I know these changes.  My oh my, where did my baby go? 

Okay, back to the sweater that was supposed to be the subject matter here... it's a little bolero from One Skein knit up with Henry's Attic Organic Inca Cotton, colorgrown in sage.  According to folklore, the small eyelet detail on the back brings the wearer protection and good luck.  I wasn't sure how the eyelet would come out with the thick and thin nature of the yarn, but I like it.  The thick, the thin, the symmetry of the detail skewed a bit here and there and everywhere.  A bit like life with a newborn.  Like life with a toddler.  Like life all around.  Perfect, I think, for the celebrating of a new babe.

karma

Many moons ago I received a bag of wool fleece through Good Yarn Karma.  I have yet to spin this wool into yarn, but the winters in these parts are long.  It could happen soon.  In the meantime I've been meaning to release some yarn from my stash so that it can get onto someone's needles and make that transformation from string to cloth.  Today's the day.  I just posted four skeins of a yummy chartreuse mohair blend. 

I bought the yarn right before the little one was born and I had this notion that I'd knit the Perfect Pie Shawl from Weekend Knitting as I was lolling about in those first weeks of motherhood.  Insane.  In those days I could barely count, let alone work a pattern of ssk and yo and such with slippery fuzzy yarn.  Needless to say the project was abandoned.  Each time I think of starting it up I can't help but feel that discombobulation associated my first days of mamahood.  And in my mind I'm fixated on making this yarn into that shawl.  It's clearly not meant to be.

If you're interested in my yarn, check it out.  And if you're looking to find a good home for yarn abandoned in your stash, post it over at Good Yarn Karma.  You can give it away or ask for a trade.  It's a genius set-up.   

blues: inside and out

Outside the grasses beckon us to the lake for one of the last days of bare feet.

Inside I work through the first cable of yet another sweater from this book.   

nu, nu, nu and a big, big yay!

The cardigan is finished - sleeves stitched in place, buttons sewn on.  This morning was the first day that warranted the extra garments, so I pulled it out of the drawer telling the little one that she could wear it.  It was new.  It is green.  It has buttons.  She parroted back, "nu, nu, nu".  Then I popped it over her head and she pulled it right off.  "Nu, nu, nu," this time feverishly shaking her head.  A bit of distraction did the trick long enough to get a photo, but you'll see that she's suddenly aware of that she's wearing that sweater.  Nu, nu nu, mama.  I'm guessing that I'll be hearing more of this phrase...

On the other side, I'm so so thrilled that my cottonwood leaf zip pouch was mentioned over in Poppy Talk's round up of recent gocco images.  It's such a surprise, and a very big honor to be listed amongst some very talented folk.  Thank you, thank you!

tickled

I'm tickled by the luscious gift my dear friend Elizabeth knit up for me.  She thought about saving it for my birthday in August, but instead gave it to me on her recent visit to celebrate the birthday of the little miss.  I like to think that it honors the first year of my journey into motherhood.  Yummy pink baby alpaca.  And, no not at all ticklish to the skin, but oh so ticklish to my heart...