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Category: Knitting

Blanket Weather Is Almost Here

Sometimes it just feels good to finish something.

Last week felt like a busy week for me, and it was in terms of whatever passes for busy in this world, which still feels very different to me from the world of a year ago. All those things one must do were done, but I also expanded my horizons a bit, and finished a long-term project, one that might have taken longer than it should, but then who can say how long a project should take. Circumstances often intervene.

I wanted to postpone this blog post until the blanket I have been knitting was completely finished: knitted, blocked, dried. It took a tad longer than I had hoped, but that seems to be the story of 2020. The first photo is of the wet blanket, folded on the kitchen counter after being rolled up in towels to remove excess moisture, and before I laid it out to dry. I did post that photo on Instagram on Saturday morning. It has been cool however, and I have not yet turned on the heat, despite the fact that it was 64 degrees in the house Sunday morning. Cool air meant slower drying time, and the blanket was not ready until today.

It is really more of a throw or lap-sized blanket. Measuring 4’ x 4’, the blanket is knit from Noro Taiyo, a cotton, silk, wool, and nylon blend, which makes it very versatile for our Tennessee climate. This was so much fun to knit that, when I found more of the same yarn in a different color on sale, I purchased enough to knit a second. I don’t really need more sweaters at the moment and I do need throws and blankets, although I wouldn’t count on seeing another blanket soon.

But beginnings are also good: to that end I went out and double dug a small bed in the yard, only about 8 square feet, hauling away 4 not-quite-full 14-gallon trugs of clay and mixing in soil amendments. Yes, I was tired. But I did more in one short 40 minute session than I had been able to accomplish in hours over the summer, and it was a good kind of tired. My muscles ached, but I could not help but note the difference in my muscle aches as compared to a few short months ago. This was the tiredness brought on by exertion in muscles that had adequate blood supply. It was a remarkable feeling, a positive feeling, and one I do not believe I had fully comprehended before. Two months ago, to dig up 8 square feet would send me to bed for 2 days. That is why I eventually had to stop gardening, and let the jungle take over. Just being able to do this work was amazing to me.

I stopped and rested before I was exhausted, and two days later I transplanted the plants that had been languishing behind my garage since July. The actual planting was harder than the digging, not surprisingly, and I have in fact taken it pretty easy since. My back was a little sore, with a few periods of spasm, and my walks necessarily became shorter, but this wasn’t so much a setback as a small hiccup. I am almost back to where I was, walking-wise, at the beginning of last week, and I am grateful that I have months to build strength before the next gardening season is upon us.

October 20, 2020
Raindrops

Scattered bits of rain. Monday it rained in the morning and again in the evening. Yesterday evening again. Not the heaviest rain of the week, but somehow it was a calming rain, a reassuring rain. Rain can be like that: sometimes warm and friendly, necessary and life-giving; at other times needling like a cold and annoying ache; and still other times brutal, pounding, destructive. But the water itself is life.

A song is stuck in my head, a song from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, “Raindrops Keep Fallin On My Head”. A familiar song. July was not my favorite month, but it was a month of raindrops, not a month of devastating floods.

As I mentioned in my last post, I fell and broke my nose. It required surgery. A little after that I broke my left fourth metatarsal. I’ve spent a lot of time on the sofa. I’ve been unusually tired, perhaps not unusual given the events, but unusual in terms of what I normally expect of myself. I’ve been miserable. I have not always been gracious. But rain is kind of sneaky. It leaves some residual moisture, some nourishment behind. Acceptance and contentment begin to filter in.

So far, August feels more hopeful. The last few morning have been cooler. There has been rain, yes and the garden is thriving. There are buds on the roses I planted this spring. A single blossom greeted me just the other morning.

My yard is a jungle of weeds, and although there is some part of me, the part that thinks I can control life, the part that thinks that if I just do all the right things and follow the rules everything will be “right” — that part of me struggles with the weeds. The other part, the part that yearns to be content in the moment, that knows that control is just a myth we tell ourselves — that part is happy to sit on the porch in the morning and evening and watch the birds and bunnies cavorting in those very same weeds and marvel at the wonders of the world, which carries on.

Raindrops.

The last 10 days or so have been better. Still tired but I have been able to do more. Good, because the garden, suffering its own setback from heat and drought, recovered and is producing a little more. It is still a staggered harvest, which suits my staggered energy levels.

I managed my first small foray into canning, first in a couple of decades anyway, Saturday before last. Three jars of tomato puree, some sweet pepper pickles. That was enough of an initial adventure. A jar of tomato water was retrieved from the tomato seeds and pulp. It was a worthy addition to a pot of soup.

Less than a week later, faced with more tomatoes. I put up some more. I have another quart of tomato water to use. More soup, but I am a person who thinks that soup is always a good thing.

I also dehydrated the tomato skins to make tomato powder. I was inspired by the skins of the costuloto Genovase tomatoes, which are incredibly fragrant, although there are actually three or four tomato varieties in both the jars and the container of powder.

I am also knitting again. That seems to be all I can expect of myself at the moment. There was a period when pain meds or exhaustion meant that I spent more time unknitting than in making actual progress.

I finally finished a pair of socks.

I started making squares for a throw. There are 24 of these small squares. Then some bigger ones. I hope to complete a square a day. Not much, but enough for now. The yarn needed to complete the summer sunset sweater arrived. That process is slightly more complex than these squares, but I hope to pick that project up soon. I am learning to accept a slower pace. But sometimes I feel I am barely keeping my head above water.

There is hope. It is August now. It is the second month of sixty-third year. My new rose bush is blooming. The air is filled with birdsong. It is enough.

August 5, 2020
Monday Miscellaney

Today has not gone as planned. But it is still Monday so let’s get on with it.

Finally, I finished the first of three dresses that I cut and started during my March sewing retreat. This dress was almost finished; it simply needed a little adjustment in the lining seams and hemming. The initial plan had been to finish it immediately, but the world shut down and there seemed no need for a new dress. I started sewing masks. When I finally put the dress up on the sewing table the hem looked so wonky I couldn’t believe it was right, even though I knew in my head it was. Yes, the point is that the dress look straight and balanced and even when it is on me. And so it does.

I wore the dress to my birthday brunch with my step-daughter’s family on Sunday. In fact, it was comfortable throughout the day, which was hot and humid, and I was very happy. This was meant to be an “everyday” kind of summer dress, one I could wear running around town in hot humid weather and it serves that purpose well. I did line it, although the Japanese quilting cotton is opaque enough, primarily because this allows the dress to hang more nicely and not cling, bag, or rumple excessively, problems with the original J Jill dress I copied. The silk habotai lining is light and cool even in humid weather.

After brunch we walked around Market Square and stopped for a chocolate fix at Coffee and Chocolate. I had one piece, this beautiful almond praline truffle. It is almost too beautiful to eat, but that did not stop me.

Over the weekend I also finished knitting the pieces to the summer sunset sweater. Actually, I finished reknitting. Initially the whole thing got tossed in my bag in a fit of pique when I realized I did not have enough yarn to finish. I refused to think about it at all for several weeks. When I pulled it back out I realized two things: First that I had lost my mind and knit the two front pieces about 2 inches too long; and second, that I failed to take into account the changes I had made to the pattern due to gauge issues. My altered pattern used about 15% more yarn. Not surprising then that I would not have enough.

The pieces are finished but the sweater is on hold until the yarn arrives. Since the yarn is hand-dyed Prism linen lace-weight, I do not expect to receive it right away.

I cannot begin to express how happy wearing my purple dress made me yesterday. To wear a cool, comfortable dress that in a color I love, that fit perfectly, and which I made myself brings its own kind of happiness. There is so much joy in that statement that I just want to dance. Alas the kind of stitching that I had in mind for today is not what came to pass.

Near the end of my walk this morning, I somehow managed to trip and fall. I actually thought I had an instant of foot drag and I stumbled over some unevenness in the pavement. Before I knew it i went down, knees, wrist, face. My nose took the brunt of it. Here I am after attempting to clean myself up but before going to the doctor. I wondered if I was over-reacting and did not need to go at all. Not so. I broke my nose and dislocated the septum. I will see an ENT on Wednesday. I got a series of stitches for the cuts on the top of my lip.

I look worse now. There will be other days for stitching. There is nothing quite like starting a new year of life with a bang, even if it is not the kind of bang I might have preferred. Hopefully things can only get better from here.

July 6, 2020
Six Things On A Saturday Morning

I missed Friday and a planned, well obviously only hoped-for, five-things post. I don’t know that six things on Saturday is a thing, but I will do my best.

1 — I finished the prayer shawl that I had been doggedly working on. There was a fair amount of ripping back and re-knitting, primarily due to the knitter’s state of mind and enthusiasm.

2 — This iris, Iris versicolor John Wood, was rescued from its temporary holding spot behind the garage and planted and has now rewarded my efforts by bursting into bloom. There is not much around it but an empty bed and weeds, but all of that will change with time, lots of time…

3 — I went through of nearly three weeks where I did not pick up a book, finding myself oddly unable to focus. And then, in one week, I needed to read Barbara Kingsolver’s Unsheltered and Rebecca Skloot’s The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks for book club discussions. I enjoyed both books, although I also struggled with both in some ways and I realized near the end that I just needed to read something that would draw me in to the story, without the mental side show that I experienced with Kingsolver and Skloot. I ended up ripping through Karin Slaughter’s Grant County series over the course of about 10 days. It was what I needed, a gripping story, completely outside of my life. I can’t review each book individually, but as a whole I loved the way the series built on the characters through both the exploration of both the seriously dark and brutal side of human nature and our own need for, and fear of, vulnerability. In the beginning the characters are, in many ways, flat and stereotypical, but through the course of the books Slaughter adds layers of complexity, and the beginnings of insight, which often flat as characters return, time and time again, to their default modes. Much like all of us. This reader found the interweaving of character and story to become steadily more complex throughout the series. At times the characters walk a fine line between engagement and a shallow shadowiness, enough that the reader can read his or her own world-view into the experience. And well, I can relate to Sara Linton: smart, too much in her head, but also insecure when it comes to her emotions. In short, my reading of Slaughter might not be the same as yours.

Anyway Grant County suitably whetted my reading appetite, and I have pulled few books from the stacks and ordered a couple of more — got to use the May book allowance after all y’all. Shown above is the current stack. I am currently about 50 pages into The Splendid and the Vile and enjoying it very much. When I am done I will finally finish off the last volume of Manchester’s The Last Lion. Both books begin when Churchill becomes prime minister, and they should be an interesting pair to read together, although I tend to think of Manchester as a savoring slowly kind of book, whereas Larson writes more of a gripping read.

4 — There has been some sewing, although not yet really for me. Above are the results of one day’s worth of bias tape making. Those masks have all been sent out. Another 28 yard pile of bias tape has been created, and 14 more masks cut out, all waiting for assembly.

5 — Yesterday was a cold rainy day, and I suppose it would have been the perfect day to work in the studio, sewing those masks, but somehow I couldn’t drag myself out the door even for a short sheltered walk to the studio. Chalk it up to COVID unsettlement. Last month I binged on the Australian series “Offspring” and loved it. Really that series is what helped me get that prayer shawl finished and kept me somewhat sane. A couple of days ago I found the Norwegian series “Beforeigners” and I finished it off yesterday. It is a little gritty, and of course in Norwegian with subtitles, but fascinating. I love the way it explores the the idea of immigration with people immigrating through time, so the race question is obviated but in the end all the issues remain. It is a great reflection on otherness, on the seeking of safety and the disruption of chaos, and the way we define ourselves, and redefine our understanding of history through the lens of our current experience, as well as the shock of the reality of that history. I hope there is a second season.

6 — My TV day was also a knitting day. Finishing “Beforeigners” and watching a Metropolitan Opera production of The Magic Flute, yielded ample knitting opportunity. My current obsession is a sweater knitted holding two strands of lace weight linen. I started this last summer and then put it aside after finishing the first piece of four. I am now almost finished with the second piece, and I don’t want to stop knitting. Linen is not my favorite yarn to knit, although it is a favorite for wear, and yet, the changes in the colors holds my interest and drives me on. I will be wearing this sweater this year.

May 9, 2020
Five Things Friday

1. The first solitary fava bean is poking his head up through the earth. Hopefully he is merely one among many.

2. There is precedence for this hope, as the first solitary cherry blossom appeared a week ago now. She will probably fade before other blossoms fully emerge, but there are enough new buds that this fledgling tree will put up a small show; it is more than I expected in this, its first spring.

3. I also finally got the pea trellis up, just in the nick of time as the peas tendrils are long enough to start climbing. I ordered this trellis from Gardener’s Supply and it was not difficult to assemble, even though the directions did say it would be easier for two. It would have been. And, had I not been experiencing increasing back spasms as i worked on it, it would have been more symmetrical and perfectly balanced. But it works. And I am grateful.

Originally I hoped to build my own trellises, but I also realized — when I planted peas days before leaving, when I had a busy social calendar before we all began sheltering in place, before I fell and injured my back — that I would not have time. I picked this trellis primarily because it looks much like the trellises I made from copper plumbing pipe for my garden in Hyde Park. Those were all given away when I moved to Tennessee and a condo, as was my pipe cutter and my soldering equipment. Hopefully this will last at least a season, perhaps even two or more, and by then, if I have regained my gardening abilities, I will set up soldering shop again.

4. The peas will also need some thinning out, although not too much. I seem to remember that peas are more productive when they are not too widely spaced. Anyway, I did harvest a handful of shoots to add to my salad at lunch today.

5. I am recovering since my fall and am doing more, but am still working slowly. Yesterday, working on the trellis, I realized that although I am moving so much better, although still quite slowly, I cannot stretch, even my arm to anything beyond a casual reach. Any stretch, from any position really sends me into spasms, as did fastening clips anchoring netting to the trellis frame, if not very close to the body. Today I am taking it easy and not allowing myself in the garden even though it is a beautiful day and I keep telling myself I can just do a little bit. Instead I am working on short core-strengthening and light stretching workouts, interspersed through the day with rests and chores. And I have knitting and reading materials piled up by my comfy spot on the sofa. I do have other posts in mind, things I want to write about, but today is the first day I have been able to sit at a desk for more than 10 minutes or so, and somehow assembling longer thoughts into something coherent does not appear to be something I can do from a cozy corner of the sofa — I need the harder discipline of a desk and chair.

Stay safe….

March 27, 2020
In the Pink

Surprise, Surprise!

I finished the pink sweater and have actually been able to wear it, more than once even. And yes, I still love these ambiguous photos, where as much is left to the imagination as is revealed. That might change if I ever find unpack my tripod and am able take project photos again without relying on selfies.

Last you heard, nearly a month ago now, I had assembled the sweater and was working on the cowl, in fact had just ripped and restarted. If at first I had failed to put a twist in the cowl, the second attempt was also faulty in that I put in a full-twist rather than a half-twist. I can live with that. In my life it seems dyslexia always rears its head, and sometimes it is best simply to accept and move on.

In fact, I adore this sweater and can see that it will get frequent wear. I have worn it as a jacket on cool days, in the low 50s, when it was cloudy and brisk outside, and I have worn it in the house as well on chill evenings mostly because I intentionally keep the house cool. I would always rather put on a sweater than risk being too warm, and, loving knitting as I do, cannot imagine not having sweaters to cuddle up into.

I will post the details on the knitting blog later, based on the assumption that most readers here are not interested in the details. Of course considering how rarely I have posted on the knitting blog, that may be a waste of time as well. Feel free to tell me if you disagree.

March 23, 2020
The View From Here

Somewhere I stopped thinking about blogging. Just living my life, contentedly at that, never intending to stop, just not really thinking about it one way or the other. I am still just living my life, and still rather contentedly even though that life is somewhat different now that society has hit pause. And so it seems I cannot really explain why I stopped, or why I am here, writing again.

Instead I will show some pictures of the garden, signs of new growth, signs of things that need to be done, and may or may not be done at that. Somehow the pause is reminding me that life and the world will go on whatever we think of it.

I planted peas, perhaps late for Tennessee, at the very end of February, before going on a trip. I planted fava beans as well, after I returned, in mid March, only because I couldn’t find them locally and had to order them, perhaps also too late for Tennessee. But at the price of a pack of seeds, it seems better to try than to do nothing. The peas are up. And I have materials to assemble a trellis for them to climb. That was my goal for yesterday, and for today, but well, that is on hold at the moment.

Yesterday I was digging holes to plant three baby gem boxwoods when I got a little over-ambitious, did something stupid, and fell, hard, on my bottom. I lay on the ground a few minutes, admiring the new blossoms on the blueberry shrub, shown above, before getting myself upright and realizing I would not finishing planting shrubs that day.

A kind neighbor planted the shrubs for me. It took him about 15 minutes. It took me that long to walk out the front door and drag the hose up for him to water the newly planted shrubs. Today I am still moving stiffly, and am currently nestled in a pile of cushions on the sofa, where I will probably spend much of the day. I cannot stand, or bend over well, I can walk slowly and need to do that often. The pain is muscular, not sciatic, and I will recover. A pea trellis will probably not be built today, but I will get two boston ferns transferred from pots into the planters by the front door. If I do anything else, it probably be walking behind a mower, but since it is raining now, that too is a task that may be put off for another day.

I can knit. I am working on a prayer shawl, and a pair of socks (above). The yarn is Lichen and Lace in the color Citron. I love the happy yellow green color, a color I have always loved combined with purples and blues.

Here is a small itch peony starting to show its leaves. I am inclined to think this spot is too shady, that it may need to be moved. That may not happen this year. The digging in the garden is going to be harder than I had hoped. Despite the specification that the new beds all be filled with 10” of topsoil without rocks, that topsoil is mostly clay and heavy, and it is filled with rocks. The landscape crew had a great talent for coming to work on days I was not home. The area I dug yesterday was solid gravel 5 inches below the soil, part of the difficulty with planting shrubs. I hauled two large buckets of gravel with some clay to a low spot in the slope at the back of the yard before I took my tumble. I can dig through even packed good soil, but through clay, especially clay studded with rock, it will be a more ambitious project. I am tired of ambitious projects, but I am also determined, and tired of paying people to not do what I specified.

The worst thing that can happen is I will have fields of weeds. Weeds which will have to be pulled and turned into compost or turned under. Time will help the soil. And despite my anger and frustration at things that were not done, plants that are not in the right spots, human failings, I am also touched by unexpected human kindnesses. A person I do not know offering to plant my shrubs. All of this seems appropriate to this time. There will be setbacks and loss, but there will also be coming together and kindness.

No point in mourning that which is past or gone. This plot of land will still be here. Nature will prevail, whatever I do or do not manage. And there will always be surprises. For example I love the colors the rain has created on this paver.

I love that the camellias are showing the lushest bloom I have seen since buying this house. I love that the azaleas I bought last spring are all leafing out and showing buds, that life goes on, and that people carry on. The world reminds us that through every struggle, every winter, there will be a spring.

I leave you with this, one of the first blossoms on the flowering crabapple off the back deck. I hope you and yours are safe. I hope you find peace and joy, not isolation and fear. If you can take a moment, let me know how you are doing. We are all molecules in a great social network or web. Let’s keep these fragile chains alive.

March 20, 2020
An Update on Ongoing Projects

PINK SWEATER

There are many reasons it is not wise to knit when one has a sinus headache, especially the severe prolonged kind that lay one low for several days. The body of the sweater has been completed and assembled and I was pushing to finish the knitted-on cowl but I realized I had made a mistake, more than one mistake in fact, and somewhere I crossed the line bordering tolerable and unacceptable. First, I neglected to twist my knitting, allowing the cowl to lie properly, although it took me a few rows to see this, and my head hurt enough that I decided I could live with that. Until I noticed that in my pain-induced haze I was often failing to switch from knit to purl and back again at the row marker. Knitting garter stitch in the round is a bit of a pain, and apparently too much for my headache-addled brain. So much for mindlessness. Yesterday I ripped the cowl out and began again. This was sad because I was about half done with the cowl and ripped a full skein of yarn before starting again. On the other hand, the odds are high that I have missed this year’s window of wearing opportunity anyway.

GARDEN PLANNING

We are rapidly moving into spring and I have as yet to start playing with a rough plan on paper. I do not need to stick to said plan, but I do need it as a starting point just to sketch out some broad coherent form to the evolving garden, and to help stem my magpie instincts when in nurseries and browsing plant catalogs.

Admittedly my ability to plan was dependent on completion of certain bigger projects. The raised beds for what, at least at this point is planned as vegetables, or perhaps mixed vegetables and flowers were completed in late January. And at the moment I am having more fun thinking about what I can plant here than I am in terms of drawing up rough plans for the landscaping. Partly this is good because it is time to start planting early spring crops and start seeds, and bad because I also need to start thinking about perennials and shrubs, even though I know I will be able to completely finishing planting all the beds around the house this year.

In December the ornamental trees were planted, and the wattle fence was finished in the front yard, which helped me to start to imagine the space, although I am only now realizing that although this photo was posted to instagram, it never made it here.

The general plan was that January and February would be devoted to research and getting some plans on paper. To that end, I read two useful books, both of which have helped me refine amorphous ideas. The most useful of those, may well be Michael Dirr’s Hydrangeas for American Gardens. I adore hydrangeas, and loved the hydrangeas that were initially around the house, even as I acknowledged that they were too large to be situated as close to the house as they were. Now I have the opportunity to replant, and my goal is to have a variety of different hydrangeas in the front space making this book both a good source of inspiration and practical information. I am also reminded that planning is important and that it is sometimes better to work slowly with intention, than to quickly fill a space. Expect the front garden to develop over the course of a few years.

The other garden book is less focused on a single type of plant, but possibly more practical. I suspect Tracy Disabato-Aust’s 50 High-Impact, Low-Care Garden Plants will end up being one of those books that I reach for again and again when I need to solve a problem, or feel at a loss for ideas. It actually sits on my garden shelf next to a book I’ve had for ages, Nicola Ferguson’s Right Plant, Right Place, a book that has proven its worth in my gardens. I hope this book does the same, but even in the short term, it is helping me with refining ideas. If this garden is going to work long term, I have to admit that the energy of the young gardener is long gone, and I must balance my love of pretty things and unusual plants with my actual ability to work in the garden. Low-maintenance plantings are also critical to success.

As February is coming to a close other projects are competing with garden and knitting. I have yet to do my taxes, and I my need for clothes will become critical once the weather warms up. I am also going on another sewing retreat, but although I have worked in the studio and done hand work and embroidery, I have not looked at garment sewing since the holiday evening pants. As usual, I haven’t even started and I am already behind. And so goes life, always fun, never dull.

February 25, 2020
What I Did Over My Christmas Vacation

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it felt wonderful.

That statement is, in fact, a bit of an exaggeration. I spent whole days knitting, well maybe 6 or 8 hours of a day. I think that counts. I reported that I had finished a sock, the second one of a pair. I have worn them frequently since. But I also spent a lot of time knitting my cozy, oversized, pink cardigan, a cardigan I dearly hope to finish and wear before the relatively short Knoxville winter comes to an end. Of course it may also work as a spring sweater as cool evenings and mornings often extend well into the Knoxville spring. Whether late frosts are actually a part of spring or an extension of winter seems to be semantically contentious here, although I do not think that the seasons are determined by temperature alone.

But I digress. As you can see, I was doing something. I finished the back and one front of this long sweater. The other front, the sleeves, assembly, and a knitted-on cowl remain. But this is where the something/nothing debate becomes important. I live in a culture where we admire people who do handwork, admire craft, music, art, but which also thinks of this activity as outside of the “normal” or “productive” part of life and culture. Increasingly think the opposite is true. It is the making and the makers that are truly living and the rest of the world that is spinning its wheels on a little hamster-wheel of our own creation. But this is not supposed to be a philosophical post.

What I really did not do was keep up with email, facebook, instagram, or social media in most forms. I could go whole days without connecting to the inter webs and it felt good. I saw people individually and socially, but otherwise I explored skills, skills that need significant amount of sharpening before I can achieve that happy place where idea and muscle memory join forces, where the idea is the spark, and one’s collection of tools (skills), as well as one’s ability to get out of one’s own way, can allow art to occur. I think this tool-building stage of life will take some time.

I did try my hand at some sewing, with mixed results. I made a pair of black silk evening pants which are quite wearable but which do not really live up to my former standards. There is a good bit of “happy hands at home” imperfection to the finished product.

I could have started with something easier and more practical. But I have never been one to take the measured, practical path. I had despaired of the fact that all my clothes were casual. I desperately wanted something dressy, hence the idea of evening pants; but it was a project was both perfect and foolhardy. Sewing silk, and silk chiffon is tricky under the best of circumstances, and I was starting with two deficits in that I neither had a well-fitting pant pattern or much in terms of recent sewing practice. Still, I managed to make the pants and the construction is decent, if not couture quality. I simply served the edges and did not bother making french seams. The problem came with the tiny hems. In fact I initially hoped to wear these pants to a Christmas party, but did not because I couldn’t manage the hems. My plan, and a perfectly logical one at that, was to put the pants aside until after the holiday, when I would make the narrow hems by hand. I am much more confident of my hand-sewing at the moment than my machine sewing. But the many edges to be turned under meant that I had several days of hemming ahead of me, so no party pants for the party season.

And then, on December 30th my foolish little inner demon reared her head. I decided I could wear the pants to a New Year’s Even party. There was not enough time for hand-hemming. so I just dove in, figuring that wearing something, and something I made, even if it was finished badly, was more appealing than not trying at all.

I worked in a variation on the normal procedure, doing the hems first, and then the side seams on the open chiffon panels, reasoning that the hems, being near the floor, would be less visibly wonky to others than the side seams. That worked. My hems look like a first year home-ec student did the sewing, but the narrow hems at the sides of the chiffon panels looked good, and I was happy wearing the pants, feeling festive and swishy. I paired the pants with a sweater I had finished a year ago, and not yet worn, knit in Artyarns Beaded Silk and Sequins and Merino Cloud. And yes, a bathroom selfie seems to be the best I can manage at the moment.

Also shown in this post are two photos of the bowl I made at the “pottery indulgence” workshop I attended, and wrote about, in November. It too is a bit rustic and far from perfect. In fact I think if I can learn to celebrate anything, I hope to celebrate the fruits of the process of making, imperfections and all. But then, I have always felt it is our imperfections that make us human, and therefore lovable.

January 6, 2020
Weekend Update: Socks, Playing with Clay, Music

I ripped the sock back on Saturday, ripped it back to about an inch and a half from the ribbing at the top. I knew I had dropped a stitch, and was holding it with a marker. But at some point after the heel I discovered that I had dropped another stitch on the foot, and a I tinked back I also discovered that there were other errors. I am not a perfectionist. One error I can live with, but this was too many.

The sock is not done. But I will be much happier with it, having accepted my mistakes and started over.

Saturday night I went to a “Pottery Indulgence” party/workshop at Arrowmont School of Craft in nearby Gatlinburg. I had never made anything out of clay before, I was a bit nervous, and my bowl is a bit rough, but I had a lot of fun.

First we played with texture on a sample slab, then we applied the texture and cut out our bowl shape, refining the edges, smoothing and beveling, and finally folding it up and forming it into a bowl. I had a little trouble with the seams, but I got them together. My thumb, index and middle fingers are the ones most plagued by arthritis, but I managed. Somehow, while I was trying to form my bowl without simultaneously deform it, I was reminded of childhood, of making mud pies with my friend Ginny, and the perfect little turkeys she would mold from the mud.

Perhaps I am not a natural at clay. But I would like to play some more. The “handles” on my bowl were a last-minute whim. I had planned to leave the top plain, but then started drawing free-form leaf shapes in my practice clay. They may be the best thing I did. They may prove to be a disaster. As you can tell, it was time to walk away.

Friday night was symphony night, and I took the family. Grandson O is very interested in percussion, and one of the works on the program was a fabulous percussion concerto, Spices, Perfumes, Toxins! by Avner Dorman. The percussionists were two members of Nief Norf, a contemporary music group based in Knoxville (which I adore), Andrew Bliss and Mike Truesdell. The performance was energetic and dynamic, a conversation really between these fabulous musicians and the orchestra itself, almost a marathon given the huge number of percussion instruments the two men played, including marimbas, vibraphones, tom-toms, bells, bongos, drum sets and things I can’t identify. They brought both power and subtlety to the performance: from the complex tapestry of sounds that was the first movement (spices), through the often delicate lyricism of the middle section and into the dynamic combativeness and melding together of the closing, feeling very redolent of the complexities of modern life. I was awed, amazed and enlightened.

The concert ended with Beethoven’s 7th symphony, a piece that revolves more around rhythmic passages than around complex melodies, and it was heavenly, perhaps the finest Beethoven I have heard this orchestra perform. It seems that I am becoming boringly repetitive in that I keep saying that the orchestra has never sounded better, and they haven’t. It is true. The performance was held lightly, buoyant even, the orchestra seeming to achieve a kind of relational nuance that I tend to associate with fine chamber groups, even if on a larger scale. The music was crisp, conversational, happy even, as tensions that arose and resolved, like an evening spent with the best of friends. As I sat listening, my fingers and toes dancing to the music, O’s head resting on my shoulder, I could think of few things more magical.

November 25, 2019