The Stockholm Vest is well on its way. Not even a month ago, I had started two other vests that were absolutely beautiful and using beautiful yarn, but I just couldn’t get past the first 20 rows on either pattern.
I thought I had lost my ability to knit. It was so until I picked up this pattern from Petite Knits.
The yarn I’m using is The Border Mill North Coast Tweed, from Scotland. The label says that the colorway “Black Isle” was inspired by a road trip around Scotland’s far north coast. It is spun from pure Shetland wool. Though the foundational colorway is black, there is a lot of deep dark brown and even some gray tones that give it a very earthy look, peaty even.
I love this yarn, and once I got started, I loved the pattern, as well. It’s funny how you can get caught up in a failure or what seems to be a failure, only to find your inspiration once again.
Though it doesn’t look like much yet, I would say that I’m three-quarters of the way done. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
When weed came in kilos across the border from Mexico, it was simple. That’s when a kilo was $35-$60. When you most likely bought a lid in a plastic sandwich baggy for $10 from a friend.
When what you bought was smattered with stems and seeds that would pop and burn holes in your clothes or in your davenport or the seat of the car.
When a part of opening the baggy, and before smoking, was performing the ritual of carefully picking through and cleaning out the debris.
When Zig Zag papers were bought at the corner store to roll a joint. When one took pride in knowing how to roll a perfect joint or a giant “doobie,” It was an acquired skill.
We rolled joints by hand that wouldn’t fall apart, clear to the finger burning end. Or maybe someone had a pipe and sometimes a hooka.
When we all had “roach clips”. Making a nice “roach clip,” was a work of art and creativity. Does anyone even know what a roach clip is or use one anymore?
The very last bit of a joint, or roach, was savored by slipping it into a clip and holding it to your lips so as not to burn your fingers. How very handy they were.
PS: Those treasured relics pictured above are more than 50 years old, probably closer to 60. They were made from the bristles of the street cleaners brushes that one could find in the gutters while walking the streets of Portland.
You know, this crosstitch quilt took 40 years and more hours to create than you could ever imagine. I loved every minute of those hours.
There were years when it languished in a closet, partially completed, while my life was filled with family, going to school, traveling, and other obligations. But it was always there, waiting for me to come back to it.
Now that I’m older, crafting is what I do. It’s all that I do. I do it for joy, peace, and the satisfaction of creating something beautiful. While stitching, be it crossstitch, crochet, crewel work, knitting, bookbinding, or tapestry, I forget about the troubles that face me, that face us in this incredible yet troubling world that we live in. Podcasts, audio books, documentaries, travel vlogs, and the like fill my days while I craft.
Beyond the stitching, however, there was the cost of taking the quilt to the “long arm quilter.” By the time I finished the cross stitching, I was not inclined to hand stitch a queen sized quilt. Three hundred dollars was a small price to pay.
For those of you who don’t quilt, you may not know what that is. A long arm quilter is a person who owns a very large, almost room sized machine in which they can feed a quilt of almost any size. That machine is connected to a computer on which many patterns are programmed. A pattern is chosen, and off it goes with the expertise of the long armed quilter. For those of us who quilt, it is a marvel.
At that point is when the long arm quilter saved it from more time sleeping in the trunk or closet. I had started to quilt it by hand, but after months of working on it, I realized that the task was too daunting. I just wanted it to be done. When I got the quilt back a week later, I then hand stitched the binding. It was finally ready to use.
But, by this time, this quilt is so precious that I can’t use it on my bed… Only because I have two cats and a dog that often share my bed. Claws, hair, and dirt would most likely destroy it.
So for now, it’s folded and safely sits on my ottoman with a pillow on top where Fran Ham, the cat, loves to sleep. I can only enjoy the parts of it that peek out from underneath.
I’ve been wanting to make the Balvoniee Bonnet by Corinne Tomlinson for a long time. Corrinne says that her inspiration for this hat was Balvonie of Inshes in Inverness, Scotland, where she grew up and spent long school breaks there with her family. The bonnet is “traditional Scottish woolen brimless cap; a bunnet (Sir Walter Scott).”
I ordered the kit from Wooley Thistle this winter. The yarn is by Jamieson and Smith, a 100% Shetland wool from the Shetland Islands. But I’ve been stuck in a place of no motivation for knitting except to finish a pair of socks for Hannah. The socks are out of Arne and Carlos Schachenmeyr sock yarn. They were supposed to be done for Christmas. Then they were supposed to be done in February for her birthday. But I just finished them this past weekend. So now I’ve got time to do the bonnet.
Also, if you look closely, you can see the Cascade 220 yarn in lipstick red in the background. That is going to be a striped sweater with bright pink and this red for Hannah. I’ll post more about that as I get into it. The pattern is called the Compliment Sweater. Hannah has asked me to make her something out of yarns that were not my favorite but turned out to be my favorite in the end after completing the project. I think this will be the same. Lots of summer knitting to do.
This is a hand woven pillow top completed in 1973. That’s 50 years ago! It’s made of 100% rustic wool on a large floor loom while taking classes at the Multnomah Art Center. I cannot remember what breed of wool or the pattern but it was a marvelous experience. It changed my life.
I bought several looms over the years and enjoyed weaving. I learned to spin, as well. Recently, I sold all my weaving and spinning supplies.
It took years to admit that I would not ever weave again, so I kept my equipment and supplies far too long. Thanks to my mom and dad’s persistant support, I have always been proud that I never let anything stop me from doing whatever I’ve chosen to do regardless of… well, there came a time that I had to give up on this craft and many others.
I have little to show for this time in my life with the exception of a few pieces, including this one. Though it is the worse for wear, I will sew it into a pillow cover again. It makes me nostalgic for those beautiful years.
This photo makes the sweater look long but it’s actually cropped and comes just to the top of my hips.
This baby’s done! It’s the FELIX cardigan, knit in Woolen Twines rustic worsted merino in the colorway, Fossil (undyed). The yarn is the color of the sheep it came from.
As I’ve said before, Jule (owner and creator of the company and the dye pots) only harvests the best wool from local sustainable and organic farms and caring shepherds in her homeland of Germany. She has it spun in a small local mill and though she is a hand dyer, I chose this natural undyed color for this sweater. However, her natural dyes are some of the prettiest colors I’ve ever seen.
This was a joy to knit. The yarn, the pattern and the finished sweater just made/makes me happy.
I bought the buttons from Vintage Buttons on Etsy. They were made in the 80s of French river shells and hand painted. These also make me happy… like a bag full of gummy candies.
It’s too big for me but it’s large and cozy and will fit over anything. It’ll be a daily wearer.
I’ll definitely make another one of these but in my true size… determining my size is like trying to catch a wild horse in the Painted Hills of… where are the Painted Hills?
Before I start my next sweater, the “Magnolia Chunky Cardigan”, designed by Camilla Vad, I’m knitting the “Handful of Berries Mittens designed by Jocelyn J. Tunney.
For those who don’t knit and particularly don’t knit mittens, the photo shows what it looks like when you’re just starting. I’m just 7 rows into the ribbing for the wrist.
The yarn is the softest and fluffiest yarn I’ve worked with yet. It’s Beiroa Retrosaria, Rosa Pomar, 100% Portuguese wool.
The skein band says that, “Beiroa is made exclusively from the wool of Serra da Estrela sheep, a Portuguese native breed found in the Serra da Estrela region. It is entirely sourced and manufactured in Portugal. The Serra da Estrela Breeders Association (Ancose) verifies the origin and quality of the fleece used to produce this yarn.”
I’m thrilled to be using this beautiful Beiroa. Of course, I’ll be showing you the finished product when it’s done.
As my knitting journey continues, I find myself buying more and more yarn that can be traced to the source, including some yarn that can be traced to the exact sheep from which the fleece was shorn.This part of my craft gives me more pleasure and makes me more grateful than you can imagine.
And, I love that I am participating in an age old tradition.
Just waiting on the buttons to finish the button hole band.
The long awaited Ranger sweater, by Jared Flood, is done except for the button hole band… we’re waiting on the buttons.
Jesse (son and fortunate recipient) has ordered some Native American handmade silver buttons that will really enhance this cardigan.
The yarn is local to me and made of Brooklyn Tweed, Shelter, in the colorway, Artifact. The yarn is spun of Targhee-Columbia wool. It’s worsted weight and is woolen spun into a very light 2 ply that if not careful can be pulled apart almost as easily as unspun yarn like the beautiful Swedish Nutiden yarn.
Soon, I’ll be giving it a good soak in warm water and then I’ll pin it to block it to hopefully give it a perfect fit. I can’t hardly wait to see the stitches bloom and come together in the most pleasing way.
Jesse will be wearing this sweater when the weather warrants a big cozy jumper. When the warm monsoon like rains of fall turn into bone chilling shards of icy and soaking rains, he’ll be warm. Because wool, even when wet. or covered in snow, remains warming. Just ask any sheep.
This was not an easy project. I warn you that if you’re not familiar with garment making and reading a complex pattern, start with something easier. Bette Hunter, of Scotland’s Oban Seil Farm, says that some patterns read like a foreign language. These challenge even the most experienced knitters.
I did a number of techniques that I have not attempted before. First and foremost was knitting a sweater from the bottom up. I will, I swear from this day forward, reject any pattern that starts you at the bottom. How are you suppose to know if it’s going to fit if you can’t try it on along the way? I learned so much from knitting this beauty, but it put me through my paces.
I love the yarn, I love the sweater but please universe, don’t let me do this again.
This cross stitch quilt is spectacular and it only took five decades to complete.
The quilt is made by making millions of tiny cross stitchings that I started sometime in my 20s and continued into my 30s. All the while there was home, children, work and gardening, weaving and spinning, macrame, sewing and crochet. There were births, helping with school projects and homework and driving to soccer and baseball games, picnics and family reunions. And then there was moving… from Portland, to Estacada, to Lacey, to Whibey Island, to Washogal and Home Valley, then back into Portland.
But all along, the quilt stayed with me, patiently waiting. The children grew and moved away. Finally, in my 40s and 50s, I started the hand quilting but then I started to knit, as well. Then there was the divorce and new relationships. There was years of University and moving to Florida and California. And the beginning of my career. Once again, the quilt was all but forgotten. But I kept it, and it lay dormant, waiting.
Once, I accidentally tipped a cup of tea off the table into the basket sitting beside my chair, soaking into parts of the quilt. That’s when I almost gave up on it. I thought it was forever ruined. I couldn’t wash it because the pattern was not indelible. The ink would wash out leaving me without a guide. But I couldn’t destroy it or even give it away. So, I put it away while getting my BA and my MA and even started and finished my career.
Finally, in my late 60s, I picked up some quilting hoops and worked on the quilting some more. I set up the hoop stand in the living room where I looked at it every day. The quilting thread and needles beside it and I spent some brief hours working on it. But I somehow knew that sewing tiny running stitches to cover the entire queen sized quilt would never be done. It was discouraging. It was so beautiful, I just couldn’t give up on it.
I was now in my my 70s. I had worked on it and carried it everywhere with me for five decades and I was in danger of never finishing it. It didn’t help that I was developing arthritis in my hands. In the end, would it remain unfinished? The thought saddened me.
Luck was with me, however. Crafting podcasts and vlogs became a thing. I watched them constantly while I knitted. I had my favorites but once, by the recommendation of other crafters, I came across a woman who lived on the English border with Scotland. Her blog, Kate of the Last Homely House, a reference to Tolkien’s, “The Hobbit”, became a favorite of mine. Anyone who loves Tolkien is a friend of mine.
After her mom passed away, Kate was left with boxes of unfinished patchwork quilts that only needed the quilting to be done. It was then that she mentioned Kat, a long arm quilter, who lives in Scotland, who she would employ to quilt her mother’s quilts. What is this, she says? Could I find someone near me to finish mine? I had no idea. I had no clue as to what a long arm quilter was.
It took only a simple Google search to find a few long arm quilters in my area. I called one of them and made an appointment for the very next day. I packed up my tea stained quilt (the stain had faded over the years) and entered the world of long arm quilting. The machine is huge and nearly filled the entire workshop. It’s connected to a computer whose software programs a multitude of designs to choose from. I showed my soon to be savior my “art piece”, chose a design and I said, “f***k it”, when I accepted the $300 quote with ease. In two weeks, voila!, I had my beautiful finished quilt in hand.
But wait! It still wasn’t finished. A quilt consists of three layers. The top, the batting, or the fill, and the backing. The four raw edges of these layers need to be bound. Would the quilt now languish once again? No. Not this time. I was inspired by already having paid for the quilting and its beauty.
Some months ago, I bought the fabric for the binding, I made the binding, machine stitched the binding to the front, then, I finished it by handsewing the binding to the back.
I washed it in the clawfoot bathtub, hung it to dry and here it is in all it’s glory. The stain is still visible if you really look for it but that doesn’t bother me at all. As an archivist, I see every part of this quilt as evidence of its journey to the present. I wouldn’t change a thing.
The only problem is, now that it’s finished, what shall I do with it? I can’t leave it on the bed because the dog sleeps with me and she’s got dagger claws. It wouldn’t take long for it to be ruined.
Shall I just fold it up and display it on the end of the bed or should I figure out which wall I could hang it on?
Besides that dilemma, I am really over the moon, and all the stars, that it’s finished. For now, it hangs out on my foot stool where I can enjoy it all day long, every day. It’s already almost an heirloom.
I guess each and every one of us has our own experience and perspective. My perspective is one of myth and fairytale. Drawing names for gift giving and putting heart and soul into creating handmade gifts of wood, clay, wax, paints and pencils and wool threads, paper and fabric, each item made with a particular person in mind.
We’re grateful for a warm place to bake and for creating special foods. We invite family and friends to sit at our table and around the cozy fire. We read books and share stories and warming drinks.
During the season we gather evergreen boughs and leaves and branches with berries from parks to make wreaths and garlands to decorate the house and to give away. We hide small gifts and candy to fill the stockings for Jul morning and pretend the elves have visited through the night.
We’ve spent hours creating our special gifts, hiding them behind our backs if someone passes by unexpectedly. We don’t even share who’s name we’ve drawn… so there’s an air of anticipation… if John drew my name, I might get a painting or something sculpted of wood. If it’s Ivan, I might get a bonsai, if it’s Laura, maybe a knitted scarf or small bottles of homemade bitters. If it’s Joannah, there’s a million possibilities, and from Jerald, handmade candles or a handbraided dog leash or something of leather. From me, someone will get something knitted or a hand-made book.
We use hand decorated brown paper for wrappings and jute ribbons or recycled papers and ribbons from last year and hand cut paper snowflakes. Cards are made from John’s lino-cut designs, or made from recycled cards I recieved last year, repurposed for this year. This year I bought some from UNICEF.
I’m an anti-theist, if a label is required. God doesn’t play into the season, for me. I love the magic of stringing lights and singing and bringing a tree in the house… a tradition that pre-dates what we now call Christmas, Xmas, etc.
I dont care what other people do. If they want to celebrate as they’re told by media advertisements and to go into debt and to get stressed during October, November and December, they can go ahead. I don’t care. We’ll be over here creating and welcoming the darker, colder days with good cheer. This is how we welcome the ending of this year and the beginning of the new with family and friends.
I understand the bah humbug spirit pervasive in society. There’s good reason, of course, but for me it’s deeper and richer and full of meaning. There is the harvest, then the darker and colder season that engulfs us all as we turn away from the sun for some months.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I also know that there are the less fortunate who don’t have the ability to create such warmth and good cheer, and for that I lament. We’ll do what we can.
eyeamdust 