A Bluestocking Knits

They All Fell So Much in Love With Her That They Never Minded Going to the Swamp the Next Morning to Fight With the Dragon

One of my favorite illustrators is Edward Ardizzone.  He has a wonderful way with line and form, of catching character with a telling detail, and a sparkling sense of humor -- which, by the way, I have to resist spelling with a "u" here, as one of the things I find so enchanting about Ardizzone is his utter Englishness.  I am especially fond of Sarah and Simon and No Red Paint, the story of two children whose father is a painter, but is rather poor because although he paints beautiful pictures, very few people would buy them -- and of his "Tim" series of books, about a particularly enterprising boy's adventures at sea.  Ardizzone seems to have had a knack for illustrating books whose authors' humor matched his own, such as John Symonds' Elfrida and the Pig, which starts, "In a house near a lake there once lived a clever child.  She could

Play the piano,
Do sums as long as your arm,
Read Latin,
And write letters to important people,"

which you may think is a promising start, and you would be right.

I was reading The Dragon to the girls last night, a story written by Archibald Marshall, who was obviously another kindred spirit to Ardizzone, who drew the book's illustrations -- "Once a long time ago there was a very horrible dragon that settled itself in a swamp near a city and began to eat up the people who lived near it.  So of course they didn't go on living there but came into the city where there was less chance of the dragon getting at them" -- and decided that I couldn't resist sharing one of the illustrations, for fairly obvious reasons, I suspect.  On reflection, I realized that this particular drawing is very characteristic of Ardizzone -- one can be swept along with the story of this particular Princess who was too beautiful for words, or linger and appreciate the intricacy of the illustrations, the way that the tips of the painter's shoes turn up, the balance of the Princess' poses in her chair and her portrait and the lovely way that her point of her hennin just breaks the edges of the frame, of the nurse's absorption in her knitting, the curl of the spaniel's tail and the exquisite squiggle behind it.

Whew!

I was relieved to see the Winter 2007 "Interweave Knits" yesterday.  Was beginning to worry that my IK subscription would suddenly go the way of Vogue Knitting, with far too much "hip" stuff.  I just don't do edgy.  While the Tilted Duster on the cover of the Fall issue was fascinating in construction, I personally could never pull it off -- otherwise, the Tangled Yoke cardy was the only thing I was even remotely interested in.  (You can take the girl out of the library, but you can't ... oh, never mind.)

But there are in fact four projects in the new issue that have caught my eye.  (All photos from here.)

Pam Allen's Refined Aran Jacket.  Love this, love it backwards and forwards and maybe even upside-down.  Get in the car, girls, we're going to the yarn shop!

Jess's Gansey, by Elizabeth Lovick.  (The pdf pattern is available only if you sign up for the Knitting Daily newsletter.)  The model isn't helping the sweater much, I'm afraid -- and it doesn't fit her well at the armholes -- but I like the idea of tweaking the gansey shape.

This one --

really speaks to me for some reason, possibly just because I get such a kick out of Old Shale.  It's Cathy Payson's Brushed Lace Cardigan.  I'm not sure about the colors, so I would probably do something more boring, I mean subtle, like shades of grey.

This, on the other hand, Eunny Jang's Ivy League Vest, is wild in the best possible way.  Again, tweaking the shape of a traditional garment.  I've had a hankering for colorwork lately, too.

Now, if only the new "Getting More Hours Out of Your Day" magazine would arrive!

LOTR

You know, I thought that when the girls were both in school -- even better, both at the same school -- that I would have more time.  Wrong!  It's a little-known fact that school- and extra-curricular activities actually expand to fill parental time.

So there hasn't been much knitting....

I did manage a pair of socks this month.  I found the yarn rather unexpectedly at one of my local craft stores -- they usually have mostly acrylics and novelty yarns, although a bit more "upscale" than Michaels' selections -- but at the moment, they actually have a basket of sock yarn! so I snapped up a ball with my 40% off coupon -- Meilenweit Stile in color 8005, a blend of blacks, creams, lavendar-greys, and sages.

It was not, I admit, particularly pleasant to knit, feeling rather stiff and artificial in my hands, but it has softened up a bit with washing, and I'm counting on it being as filzfrei and extra-strapazierfähig as promised on the label ("non-felting and hard-wearing").  It bled a bit in the sink the first time -- a midrange blue, curiously, so apparently the black isn't really -- which toned down the cream somewhat.  I'd thought the cream was a bit loud, as it happens (!), so for myself I wasn't terribly annoyed, but it's something to take into account next time.

 

These are plain stockinette with an eye-of-partridge heel and the squared-off grafted toe from the Jaywalker pattern.

I will probably forever after remember these as my "LOTR" socks, as I watched the entire cycle of Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" movies and a fair bit of the extras as I knitted!

Now I'm picking up that Ravenclaw "Prisoner of Azkaban" scarf that I started in summer.  (Wool scarves in summer! what was I thinking?)

Mish-Mash

Every so often we have mish-mash for dinner, when the refrigerator is full of single servings left over from the week's meals.  Tonight, Laura had the last slice of pizza, Julia had Swedish meatballs, and David and I had the remnants of my first promenade through My French Kitchen by Joanne Harris and Fran Warde -- lentil and sausage casserole and garlic soup, respectively.  This is a lovely, evocative book that set my mouth watering as soon as I saw it.  The lentil dish is pleasant and earthy (much depends on the sausages, I suspect), and the garlic soup very tasty.  I didn't much care for the Poule au Pot, but then I've made various versions of this and never found it to speak to me much, so I can't fault Harris'.  Her Boeuf en Daube, redolent of bay and thyme and olives and an entire bottle of white wine, was heavenly!

So, then, this post will be a mish-mash too, since life has been increasingly hectic chez Bluestocking these days, and little that I have to say would stretch to a full post on its own.

I made an Odessa the other day for my aunt, whose cancer is returning.  Cashsoft DK again, so wonderfully soft and comforting -- this color is 525 Kingfisher, and worth seeking out, a lovely tealy greeny-blue.

I could not resist the lure of the laceweight -- the ball is one skein of Skacel Merino Lace, in 339 Pale Grey, luminous and pearl-like -- I'm thinking something Shetlandish.

A cup from Annie Modesitt's clever Fiesta Tea Set, in some ancient Tahki Cotton Classic that I dug up from one of the deeper drawers in my closet.  Am not sure yet if I'm going to make the rest of the set in the same color (wh. is all I have), or find some peppier shades, or just enjoy this piece on its own.

I put up a photo album in the sidebar of some of my dad's model trains, the ones I have.  Trains were such an intrinsic part of his life that I feel absurdly grateful to have these.

My Daisy troop is up to fifteen.  Fifteen kindergarten girls in one room!  Need I say more?

I've been watching a lot of movies lately, curiously enough all Norwegian ones, hard to knit to since I need to read the subtitles, my Norwegian stretching mostly to exclamations -- "Gud!"  "Nå da?"  "Fy!"-- and words that I probably shouldn't know.  Anyway, first was "Insomnia", a bleak and gritty crime thriller from a few years back, in which a detective in the far north accidentally shoots his partner during a murder investigation, and finds himself increasingly mired in guilt and the insomnia of the title as he tries to cover up what really happened.  "Hamsun" is the story of  Norwegian Nobel Laureate novelist Knut Hamsun's involvement with Hitler's occupying forces during World War II, and of Hamsun's turbulent relationship with his wife, a fervent Nazi supporter.  It's a ghastly, riveting film -- like watching a car crash that one is powerless to stop -- with Hamsun played with arresting dignity by Max von Sydow. 

"Kitchen Stories (Salmer fra Kjøkkenet)" is the lightest of the bunch so far -- and by far -- and one that I can recommend without hesitation for those who like quirky, subtle, character-driven comedy.  The premise is that Swedish researchers in the postwar craze for scientific research and efficiency are sending a team of observers to study Norwegian bachelor farmers' kitchen habits -- resulting in the quietly absurd set-up in the photo.  One of these objects of study has had a change of heart and resents the intrusion stubbornly, but through a series of small events he and his ostensibly objective observer become unlikely friends.  The ending is bittersweet but entirely believable and satisfying.

Little-known Fact #133: All Norwegian movies feature Sverre Anker Ousdal in some role, large or small.

(Not that I'm complaining, mind.  Fellow polar geeks will recognize him from "The Flight of the Eagle", the lyrical and harrowing film based on the Swedish attempt in 1897 to reach the North Pole by balloon, and

as Roald Amundsen in 1985's "The Last Place on Earth".  The sight of Amundsen and his men skiing towards the South Pole is as stirring a thing I've seen in many a year.)

I read the last of the Aubrey/Maturin series while David was in Hong Kong.  I'd been reading them slowly, trying to spin out the last few as long as I could, but then one night after finishing The Hundred Days, I picked up Blue at the Mizzen as if there were no covers between the two, just another chapter break.  It was like running down a hill -- I ran through it in delight, unable to stop myself and not caring a whit, and was surprised when I turned over the last page with something like utter joy and came to the end, not without a bit of a thud at my sudden return to reality.  So, that's that, and I guess -- unless somebody stands me 21 for my birthday -- I'll start over again from the beginning.

I've just finished reading the fourth in the Brother Cadfael series, St. Peter's Fair, retrieved deep from the basement storage area of our local public library.  It's interesting, reading the books hard on the heels of one another, instead of a year or two apart as I did when they were published -- I begin to get a sense of Peters' developing style and feeling for the characters. I had quite forgotten after so long that Hugh Beringar in his first appearance -- in the second book -- was in fact an opponent, not an ally of Cadfael's.  Almost makes me want to see the television series again, but not quite.  Only for Sean Pertwee,

for whom I almost seriously considered starting a write-in-campaign-of-one to Peter Jackson, as I had long pictured Sean Pertwee in my admittedly fertile imagination as Faramir, one of my favorite characters in "The Lord of the Rings" cycle.  Not too much of a stretch, though, I think!  (I would rather, too -- not that I've anything against Viggo Mortensen -- have seen Sean Bean as Aragorn, as he was much more my idea of the character -- but that's another story, for another time.)

Daisy, Daisy

I was amazed to realize this morning that I have not touched a pair of knitting needles for a week.

But Girl Scouts are starting up for the new school year, and as it happens I am going to be a Daisy leader this year.  Daisies are the newest level of Girl Scouting -- new since 1984, at least, after my time in Scouts -- they are in kindergarten or first grade, before Brownies, who are in 1st-3rd grades or ages 6-8.  Things are getting very busy for me now, organizing a brand-new troop, registering girls, planning crafts and actitivies, and wondering what I've gotten myself into!

I remember having mixed feelings about Scouts when I was a girl, but as happens so often as one gets older, sentiment tends to win out.  I remember feeling left out when my school's Junior troop folded and I had to go to another troop where the girls all knew each other at their school and were more than a little clique-ish in some cases.  I remember feeling utterly dismayed (and not a little disgusted) when we were doing the sewing badge and I went ahead and finished the pinafore top we were all making because I already knew how to sew, and the girl whose mom was in charge of the project got catty and said that I should have waited for everyone else -- my first experience with the bitchiness of preteen girls.  But I also remember laughing a lot, and singing, and washing my mess kit in a ditty bag (delightfully bizarre), and feeling very brave that I'd actually knocked on strangers' doors and sold them Girl Scout cookies, and the delight of sisterhood when I recognized one of those pinafore tops on another girl for years afterwards.

One of Laura's preschool teachers has been a Brownie leader for many years, and so Laura fell quite easily into that troop when she entered kindergarten -- a year earlier than usual for Brownies, but I've noticed that leaders can be very flexible!  Julia, I was pleased to find, decided that she wanted to do something different from her big sister, and wanted to be a Daisy.  I started looking for a troop, but since the Daisy level is only for a year, troops form and disband fairly quickly, and it soon became obvious that if Julia was to be a Daisy, mommy would have to put her own hand up a little higher.

I must add that while I am, I think, not your bra-burning-type feminist, I am very strongly convinced that girls still need more than a bit of extra encouragement in this world, and that while I am frequently something of a fencer-sitter on political issues, I am firmly in the women's-issues camp.  It's kind of weird to think of myself as a role model, but I seem to have found myself in that position almost without my realizing it, as a parent and now as a Girl Scout leader-to-be.  I've always thought that role models are more effective when not promoted as Role Models, anyway, by themselves or others, and so I'm hoping that my so-called parenting style will suit the small-l leadership style as well.

(I love that little Daisy patch!  The artwork reminds me a little of Lauren Child's, whose Charlie and Lola books are a favorite of ours.  I've bought the patches as a little present for the girls, a thank-you for being part of my first experience as a leader.)

Thoughts on Monica

If you are looking for a quick, simple, fun knit for a little girl, Monica by Christine Schwender may be just the thing!

I made a few modifications -- worked it in the round, added an extra row of garter stitch at the bottom of the ruffle (which I'd worked first) and three more at the hem to keep it from curling, and made the straps in I-cord.  Julia thought that the ruffle under her arms was itchy at first, but after a minute or two its flirtiness won her over.

This is a gift for a friend of ours who is three tomorrow, but I'm having a hard time getting it back from Julia now, and so I foresee another one in the near future!

Microscope

I've been thinking a lot about family history lately partly because I recently received a few things that had been my dad's.  He was a chemist -- with chemicals, not a British chemist, meaning pharmacy et al. -- and bought this Bausch & Lomb microscope for lab work when he was at the University of Kansas in the 1950s.

I remember many happy hours when I was a kid, peering through this 'scope, examining bits of colored paper, old soup, my own hairs plucked out by the roots, fascinated by the microscopic world writ large on a sliver of glass -- can't think why I was such a dud in science at school, but there you are.  Anyway, it's nice to have this as a fond memory of those hours, and of my dad.

Missed It By That Much

I didn't have these ready for Laura's first day of school -- got down to the toe shaping last night and decided that I'd rather sleep.  Had everything else ready -- backpacks, lunch boxes, new shoes, clothes laid out, even everything on Julia's kindergarten teacher's list (disinfectant wipes, fabric paint, scissors, 3-pack of T-shirts, etc. etc. etc.) -- so I don't feel too bad about the socks.  I have the flu, in fact, in the middle of a heat wave -- 106° F outside our front door yesterday, 41° C -- so I think I'm doing pretty well to at least be standing up!

So my littlest is a kindergartner.  I got a bit teary-eyed when the time came to say good-bye, although hid it well enough, I think, not to embarrass Julia.  She had fussed dreadfully the first few weeks in both of her years of pre-school, so that I was half-expecting a struggle today, but she and Laura skipped and ran much of the way to school, and after a little story-time from Miss B. -- who read The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn -- Julia ran over to give me a hug, refused a "kissing hand," and ran back to the circle of kids.  I even had time to wave to Laura as she danced gaily into her own classroom.

Now for that second toe!

Thoughts on the Conwy Socks

I am quite in love with these socks and the fabulous Conwy pattern from Nancy Bush's Knitting on the Road.  I must confess that I never have quite absorbed which maneuver makes the left twist and which the right, but even so it was not long before I memorized at least which one came first in the sequence!

The calf shaping allows for a beautifully long and flattering leg -- almost stockings.  I had a feeling that one skein of Jitterbug wouldn't stretch to a pair of Conwys, and so I bought two, and made the leg a half-inch or so longer than in the directions.  The larger gauge of the Jitterbug was enough to make the sock a bit bigger than the 7 in./18 cm circumference of the original, too, without that bothersome tweaking -- these are about 7 1/2 in./19 cm.

I made some minor modifications in the calf shaping, as it seemed to leave the twining cables a bit vague --

As written, the single K columns on either side of the shaping would merge into the reverse st st areas, butting up against the cables and leaving them without their background.  Instead, I worked the first three decreases as in the chart, but shifted the rest so that the 2-stitch reverse st st section stayed intact.  The last 2 decreases I worked with a sl next 2 sts tog, K1, psso -- which called for moving the last st of the rnd from needle 4 to needle 1, and omitting the last p st on the chart, but made the cables stand out nicely.

(Not easy to take a picture of the back of one's leg!)

I also used the Welsh Heel from Knitting Vintage Socks, instead of the round heel in the pattern -- it's fussier, although that might be simply because I've not done it before, and I didn't get it quite right either time, but it seemed appropriate in the circumstances.  It has four lines of decreases instead of the round heel's two, a rather sharp short-row curve at the outside edges, and a lengthier line of paired decreases in the center, on either side of the seam st.  I'm all for historical accuracy in its place, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why it is written so that the paired decreases are not symmetrical, with K2togs on both sides of the seam st -- surely the Welsh would have figured out that ssk will lean to the left and K2tog to the right?  Ssk is used in the gusset immediately following, after all (or at least its cousin sl 1, K1, psso) -- so I used both, instead of all K2tog.

It makes a generous turn, quite suitable for those with wide heels.

And the Jitterbug softens up a treat with washing -- this one is a lovely deep green, rather more on the bluish side than the yellowish green I might have expected from the name "Velvet Olive," but I bought it for looks, after all!

I listened to an audio version of Monk's Hood while working these, read by Stephen Thorne (who I can't quite place but at times sounds remarkably like John Wood).  It was a pleasant surprise to hear Cadfael say, about two-thirds through the book, "I'm from Gwynedd myself, from the far side of Conwy"!  Thorne does a nice job of characterizing the different voices, giving Cadfael a soft Welsh accent, too, which I quite missed in the television series. 

And if there was any doubt that I am addicted to sock knitting --

Charade socks, in Supersock's "Blues and Purples," cast on while the Conwys were still blocking -- these are for Laura, and I was hoping to get them done for the first day of school, but that is Thursday and I already have ripped out this in the photo, since it was too small ....

How Green Was My Conwy

I've been thinking a lot about family history lately, for various reasons -- not the least being reading the Brother Cadfael books, with Cadfael's quiet pride in his Welshness, remembering again the amazement of finding my own great-great-great-grandparents on the 1841 census in Breconshire, in a little town called Llangattock.  (I had known that they were Welsh, but not where they had lived, or what my great-great-grandmother's parents names were.)

For some time, I've been tempted to knit a project now and then that has a connection to my own family history -- Bavarian stockings, a Scottish shawl, something Irish -- I'd long admired the Conwy socks from Knitting on the Road, and when I saw Jitterbug's "Velvet Olive" colorway, I thought the two would be a perfect match -- that the stuff says "Made in Wales" seemed to bring everything together.  (More details and photos of Conwy when I've finished the second one!)

The lamp is my great-grandfather's -- he was a fireboss in Pennsylvania around the turn of the last century, and this was his safety lamp.  His parents were German, and he married the daughter of a Welsh miner, who had immigrated with his young family in 1869, working his way up from the pits of South Wales to become a mining supervisor and owner in America.

I haven't read How Green Was My Valley in years -- I remember being deeply moved by it when I was thirteen or fourteen, I guess, not only by the story itself but by a sense of kinship with young Huw Morgan.  This quotation brings back to me some of its lyricism and poignancy, and explains a little of what I find so fascinating and timeless about family history:

"I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me those who are to come. I looked back and saw my father, and his father, and all our fathers, and in front to see my son, and his son, and the sons upon sons beyond. And their eyes were my eyes. As I felt, so they had felt and were to feel, as then, so now, as tomorrow and forever. Then I was not afraid, for I was in a long line that had no beginning and no end, and the hand of his father grasped my father's hand, and his hand was in mine, and my unborn son took my right hand, and all, up and down the line that stretched from Time That Was to Time That Is, and Is Not Yet, raised their hands to show the link, and we found that we were one, born of Woman, Son of Man, made in the Image, fashioned in the Womb by the Will of God, the Eternal Father."