If you are a Raveler and don't already belong to Three Waters Farm group, go there. It's happening.
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Are You Going to Maryland Sheep and Wool this Weekend?
If you are a Raveler and don't already belong to Three Waters Farm group, go there. It's happening.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Fun!
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Cyber Sale!
Happy Thanksgiving! 25% off all patterns this holiday weekend.
On Etsy: Sale starts today!!! Use coupon code BFCMYAY to receive discount on all patterns. Sale runs through Tuesday, November 27, 2012.
On Ravelry: Sale starts tomorrow! No coupon code necessary. 25% discount will show up at checkout.
Have a fantastic holiday!
On Etsy: Sale starts today!!! Use coupon code BFCMYAY to receive discount on all patterns. Sale runs through Tuesday, November 27, 2012.
On Ravelry: Sale starts tomorrow! No coupon code necessary. 25% discount will show up at checkout.
Have a fantastic holiday!
Friday, November 16, 2012
Every Now and Then
Every now and then I get homesick for Los Angeles. The nostalgia usually comes unbidden. This morning it came in a wave when I was writing down my thoughts, a daily practice that is my mental version of sweeping the floor. I thought about how my mind felt like a change machine from a city bus, the kind they used to have in the 60s. This took me to youtube looking for footage of the machine because I wanted to hear the music of it again, how it sounded like a combination of a washing machine full of change and the crank of an old fashioned gumball machine. The only time I ever got to hear it was when I would ride the bus with my grandmother. She didn't drive and so we would catch the bus on St George to Franklin then on to the shopping center at Vermont and Hollywood Blvd near Barnsdall Park. We had to transfer twice, so we'd pass the change machine every time we got on the bus. I found the sounds and smells of the bus intoxicating.
Before I could find a youtube of the change machine, I found this little snippet from Hollywood in the 40s. The camera is moving west on Sunset Blvd to turn south on Highland Ave. You can see Hollywood High on the right as they come to a stop in the left turn lane. It's the big white building behind that thick row of palms. In 1960, we lived on Citrus Ave, one block off Highland between Melrose and Beverly. That's about a mile south of this intersection. My father's animation studio was less than a mile behind the camera on Homewood off Sunset and Vine. We traveled this particular strip of Sunset regularly. But what I'd forgotten was the sign you see on your left in the first half of the clip, the upright for "auto service".
My brother and I had a game we played on Saturday mornings while our parents slept though I can't imagine how they could have slept through this game. We called the game "Auto Service". That sign must have been quite an impression on my brother, cuz he named the game. Our house had a curving staircase that arrived on the second floor just outside our parent's bedroom. It had a two inch-thick rope railing with brass end fittings that looped from brass hook to hook up the perfectly curved wall. We would take turns at the top of the stairs. The one at the bottom (usually me) would call out "auto service", then the one at the top would send a ball bouncing down the stairs. We had a myriad collection, from teensy rubber balls all the way up to the voit rubber foursquare ball. Just the different sounds of each individual ball was enough to have us laughing. But the kid at the bottom would have to get that ball back up the stairs without leaving the lower entrance hall where the stairs began and the best way to do this was to roll it up the curve of the wall. Second best was to throw a perfectly placed bank shot at just the right point of the curve. A miss would send the ball bouncing off the walls and back down the stairs. The sounds coupled with the frustration level would have us nearly peeing in our pants. This would keep up until our parents got up or we heard dad yelling "goddammit" from the bedroom. In retrospect I believe they were unbelievably tolerant, because we played this game quite a bit.
I learned to knit in that house and remember knitting inside, outside, in the play house, on the front steps. It was a beautiful house, of old brick, kind of an English style, set sideways on the lot with a brick courtyard complete with a small goldfish pond (a rectangular pool where you could sit and look at the fish). It was shaded by a huge Chinese Elm under which were planted camelias, azaleas, impatients and freesias in season. My most vivid 60s knitting memory was sitting on those bricks cross legged with a needle wedged straight up and down between my crossed legs, my first attempts at stabilizing my left hand needle. I'd enter the stitch with the right hand needle, throw the yarn in an enormous arc to make the stitch, then lift the RH needle up and over the tip of the LH needle with the aid of my thumbs, then pull the just made stitch up and off. Once I was proficient enough to do this rather quickly, my mom taught me Continental style. This is the scene that always comes to me when I remember her saying, "Now dear, let me show you an easier way."
Before I could find a youtube of the change machine, I found this little snippet from Hollywood in the 40s. The camera is moving west on Sunset Blvd to turn south on Highland Ave. You can see Hollywood High on the right as they come to a stop in the left turn lane. It's the big white building behind that thick row of palms. In 1960, we lived on Citrus Ave, one block off Highland between Melrose and Beverly. That's about a mile south of this intersection. My father's animation studio was less than a mile behind the camera on Homewood off Sunset and Vine. We traveled this particular strip of Sunset regularly. But what I'd forgotten was the sign you see on your left in the first half of the clip, the upright for "auto service".
My brother and I had a game we played on Saturday mornings while our parents slept though I can't imagine how they could have slept through this game. We called the game "Auto Service". That sign must have been quite an impression on my brother, cuz he named the game. Our house had a curving staircase that arrived on the second floor just outside our parent's bedroom. It had a two inch-thick rope railing with brass end fittings that looped from brass hook to hook up the perfectly curved wall. We would take turns at the top of the stairs. The one at the bottom (usually me) would call out "auto service", then the one at the top would send a ball bouncing down the stairs. We had a myriad collection, from teensy rubber balls all the way up to the voit rubber foursquare ball. Just the different sounds of each individual ball was enough to have us laughing. But the kid at the bottom would have to get that ball back up the stairs without leaving the lower entrance hall where the stairs began and the best way to do this was to roll it up the curve of the wall. Second best was to throw a perfectly placed bank shot at just the right point of the curve. A miss would send the ball bouncing off the walls and back down the stairs. The sounds coupled with the frustration level would have us nearly peeing in our pants. This would keep up until our parents got up or we heard dad yelling "goddammit" from the bedroom. In retrospect I believe they were unbelievably tolerant, because we played this game quite a bit.
I learned to knit in that house and remember knitting inside, outside, in the play house, on the front steps. It was a beautiful house, of old brick, kind of an English style, set sideways on the lot with a brick courtyard complete with a small goldfish pond (a rectangular pool where you could sit and look at the fish). It was shaded by a huge Chinese Elm under which were planted camelias, azaleas, impatients and freesias in season. My most vivid 60s knitting memory was sitting on those bricks cross legged with a needle wedged straight up and down between my crossed legs, my first attempts at stabilizing my left hand needle. I'd enter the stitch with the right hand needle, throw the yarn in an enormous arc to make the stitch, then lift the RH needle up and over the tip of the LH needle with the aid of my thumbs, then pull the just made stitch up and off. Once I was proficient enough to do this rather quickly, my mom taught me Continental style. This is the scene that always comes to me when I remember her saying, "Now dear, let me show you an easier way."
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Lotus Legwarmers
Monday, September 17, 2012
Straight from the Muse:
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| Sandy's Original Calertne mitts |
We're at it again! Sandy Sitzman and I have shared the creative process since 1989. We have dyed, carded, spun and knit together (our most famous example is in America Knits as the handspun, handdyed version of the Tree of Life Jacket), sometimes in a frenzy of excitement, sometimes at a belly crawl. We’ve shared our skills with each other until these skills have become organic, indelible. If you have ever used the cold pour dyeing technique from Twisted Sisters' Sock Workbook, then you are connected to Sandy Sitzman, because she is the person that taught me that technique.
We both begin working on an intuitive level but Sandy stays intuitive throughout. That’s where she is happiest. I’m happier melding kinesthetic with analytical, figuring out puzzles of construction and translating them into patterns. Sandy feels her way along, admiring, smooshing, cajoling. When I ask her how she constructed a piece she says, “I don’t know.” It’s this kind of wandering that gives her work a style all its own.
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| seamed entrelacs |
So when I asked her how she knit Calertne, all she could tell me is, “Well, I worked the entrelacs flat and seamed ‘em, kinda messy, then picked up on the edges and finished the glove.” How’d you make the mate? “Just made another one before I forgot what I did”. I especially love Sandy’s whimsical “teapot spout” thumbs. Her answer to that? “I always make my thumbs that way.” Though not sleek, they are roomy and tres practical and most importantly easy peasy. Kind of an “afterthought thumb”.
It’s no wonder I couldn’t replicate their bodacious uniqueness in my own pattern writing style. My inner perfectionist fought me all the way and there’s defnitely something lost in the translation. So I thought it would be fun to write her original pattern in “Sandy Speak” for those of you adventurous enough to try it. And, if you are that adventurous, you won’t balk at sizing it for your own particular needs. Sandy used my entrelac class handout and accompanying chart as her guide but you can find all kinds of entrelac tutorials online.
Calertne, Sandy style:
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| teapot spout thumbs |
Her size: small.
Her finished measurements: length 9”, width of entrelac cuff 4 3/4”, width of hand 3 1/2”.
Her gauge: 21 sts over 4 inches.
Her yarn: cushy aran weight 2 ply handspun from pretty roving in her stash
Her needles: US #5/ 3.75mm
Her number of beginning triangles: 6
Cast on 36 sts and work a rectangle of 6-stitch entrelacs that looks like it is long enough for a 3 inch cuff following your favorite recipe for back and forth entrelacs. Seam the narrow ends of the rectangle so it looks like a bracelet.
Using your favorite needles for working in the round, pick up and knit around one edge of the bracelet stitch for stitch. Join round and work 3 rounds in 1x1 rib. Bind off.
Pick up and knit around the other edge, stitch for stitch. Knit 6 rounds plain, knit 6 rnds in 2x2 rib (to fit snugly at the wrist), knit plain to where you want your thumb (1 1/2 inches). Bind off 9 sts. Continue around to where you bound off and cast on 9 sts. Join round. This makes a hole for the thumb. Knit plain for as long as you want your hand above the thumb (2 1/2 inches). Bind off.
Pick up 20 sts around the thumb hole. Knit plain till your thumb is long enough (1 1/2 inches). Bind off.
Make another. Maybe add a little 2x2 fair isle just above the thumb on the second one, just for fun. Not enuf yarn? Spin more.
Want more Sandy? Follow her blog here.
Want more Sandy? Follow her blog here.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Flip Side
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