Sunday Sunday
Sunday, Sunday here again a walk in the park..
The day started with me drinking my morning tea whilst listening to BBC Radio 4's Women's Hour where I was informed that knitting was a "post-modern, ultra-chic habit adopted by the very, very cool." So now we know.
Then I began preparing for the Barcelona skirt sewing demonstration I'm doing Wednesday. I cut out the pattern pieces, read the instructions, and then laughed with relief. The skirt is very easy - just three pieces plus zipper and lining - and although I've not done much dress-making in the last fifteen years, I am confident I am not going to mess this up. Famous last words, of course.
The afternoon was spent in the communal garden. We live in a Victorian tenement flat and we share our garden with four other blocks. The plan is to make our communal garden sustainable and organic - today we attended a workshop on turning a tenement garden into a place to grow food (alongside all the other needs it has to fulfil: drying space, bicycle sheds, bin sheds, recreational space etc). A lot of the residents realised that edible plants were already growing in the garden - some planned (like potatoes, various herbs and strawberries) and some rather unplanned (St. John's Wort, barley and gentian). We discussed getting some fruit trees whilst having herbal tea and cake under the existing Cypress trees.
At this point I felt very middle-class.
Then D & I meant to go blackberry picking. Well, bramble picking since they call blackberries brambles here in Scotland. As you can see, though, the berries are not quite ripe yet (neither are the elderberries). So I went for a little walk through our neighbourhood instead.
The North Kelvin Meadow is just around the corner from our flat. There is a short video posted on its site which lets you see the beautiful space for itself - it is basically a waste ground between tenements which has been "adopted" by local people. There are tiny allotments on the site now but mostly it functions as breathing space for local wildlife and as a "wild" natural habitat in the middle of a busy city. I like looking at the ex-whiskey barrels that have become micro-allotments. Actually, I like spending time there, full stop. The Meadow is very peaceful.
(As you can imagine, though, developers are quite keen on getting their hands on the Meadow (it is right in Glasgow's prime property area), so there is an ongoing campaign to let the Meadow remain a meadow.)
On a personal note, I went for a walk (and a good cry) because I had some very sad news from Denmark. Sometimes I feel very far away from family & friends, and I am unable to travel back right now (for various reasons). It makes me feel powerless and downright awful. I love Glasgow - it feels more like home than anywhere else I have ever lived - but sometimes I do wish I still lived in Denmark. It would make moments like this one a bit easier to handle.
Guilty Pleasures #231
My Other Half told me that not everybody remembers the German 1979 Eurovision entry. Which is totally a shame as you are about to find out..
Apparently my mum sprained her wrist trying out the dance moves back in 1979. The apple does not falls far from the tree.
I Need Distractions
My great-grandmother's bedspread/blanket arrived today.
Every single square was knitted individually in moss-stitch and then sewn together before she picked up stitches, knitted an edge, cast off, and crocheted a decorative edge. (So much work. I can deal with the huge amounts of mustard yellow in the spread, in other words.) I wonder if I should drape it over our sofa.. We live in a rented flat, so some of the furniture is not exactly to our taste (particularly the pink-yellow chintz sofa).
Thank you for the comments on Becoming Less than a Magpie. After writing it, I went straight to Ravelry and started weeding out my queue. It has gone from 247 patterns queued to 77 projects queued. It feels very liberating. I know the new autumn/winter collections will be hitting the web soon, so I am prepared to see my queue get a bit longer, but I am keeping the following self-imposed rules in mind:
- Will it flatter my figure?
- Will it work with existing items in my wardrobe?
- Do I already have similar objects in my wardrobe?
- Will I get any use out of it?
In other words, I will assess concrete things like gauge and shape as well as abstract things like style and wearability. Also, I will no longer be queueing fifteen patterns when one well-chosen pattern suffices.
Style is quite abstract, isn't it? I am not fashionable (although for one brief month back in 1995 I was outrageously trendy) but I do think a lot about style. Being Danish I have grown up with a certain Nordic aesthetic - you might best know it from countless IKEA catalogues. Scandinavians like their simple lines, plenty of light and very little nonsense to their architecture/furniture/designs. A typical Danish knitting design would be something along the lines of Topstykke, Duet or Granite. Plain knitting with a little twist. On the other hand I have never been a very good Dane and I turned into an bit of an Anglophile when I was very young, cue the love of tweedy things with cables and fair-isle (or, in other words, everything Rowan). Add to that, an uncompromising love of Modernist art and design (and that pesky Scandinavian mid-century modern influence) and that is pretty much where "my style" is at.
See why my queue has shrunk so much? Yeah.
Now I'm off to wave a tiny Danish paper flag about. The Danish football team is playing their first World Cup match today and I'm slightly worried as they are meeting one of the top contenders, Holland. It is going to be tense and I still cannot knit.
Day Two: Inspirations & Aspirations
Fourth Edition is taking part in the Knitting & Crocheting Blog Week, and you can read more about that blog project here.
As I wrote yesterday, my grandmother has been knitting me jumpers and cardigans all my life. My all-time favourite jumper was one she knitted me when I was eleven. I chose the colours myself - forest green and dark red - and I wore it until my gran decided she had better knit me another one. Unfortunately I did not get to choose the colours second time around as I was living in London, not rural Denmark, and I ended up with a beige/fawn combination which I loathed.
Last time I went to visit her, my grandmother had uncovered the pattern she had used for the two jumpers. The apple does not fall far from the tree, because Gran had obviously modified the pattern. Instead of a cardigan knitted in pieces, she had knitted the jumper in the round with subsequent steeking and whatnot.
I want to knit that jumper. I want my forest-green/red jumper back and I have the pattern right here in front of me. It is a 24-stitches/37-rows repeat, and fortunately I have Gran's marginal notes so I can follow her math. I plan on knitting it in the round as well, but I am not sure about the sleeve construction. Should I steek for drop-shoulders? Should I attempt to re-chart the pattern for a round yoke? I know I will be wanting a high-turtleneck.
Gran used postal order wool (I still remember pouring over shadecards with her). The actual pattern calls for a yarn which is miraculously still available - Sandnes Garn Peer Gynt (and rav link). It is a standard double-knitting pure wool yarn which should be easy to substitute. The real concern is if I can get the colours I want. Jamieson & Smith seem an obvious choice, but I'm also wondering if I should go for a slightly different look to my original jumper by choosing Rowan Felted Tweed (Rage and Pine would look so very lovely together).
Why is this an inspirational pattern for me? I know I have the skills to knit this - but I am actually a bit afraid of undertaking this project due to its many layers of meaning. By undertaking this project I will be admitting that Gran is no longer able to knit me a jumper and that I am, in a sense, "taking over" from her. In fact, I am now knitting her things, not the other way around. By knitting this jumper I am also reaching out to my own younger self - that young girl who feared so many things and felt so horribly out of place. And I am attempting to replace something which meant a great deal to me and I am afraid that my recreation will not measure up.
Who knew that sticks and string could be so .. meaningful, eh?
Day One: Starting Out
Fourth Edition is taking part in the Knitting & Crocheting Blog Week, and you can read more about that blog project here.
My great-great-grandmother, Ingeborg, died in the 1960s but lives on in the stories told by my grandmother and my mother. Ingeborg was nearly blind when she died, but she kept knitting socks until her final days. My grandmother tells me that Ingeborg would worry about her tension becoming wonky and about dropped stitches, but despite failing eyesight Ingeborg's socks were as immaculate as they were back in the early 20th century when she kept her sons and one daughter, my great-grandmother, in steady supply of socks.
Intriguingly, Ingeborg used the English method, unlike her daughter (and subsequent generations) who were/are Continental knitters. I was taught to knit by my great-grandmother who was an important influence upon my life. She would knit long strips of garterstitch and sew them together into huge throws (and as I am writing this, I am awaiting a parcel from Denmark containing one of her huge, colourful throws). She would normally use whatever she had to hand - my momse had raised eighteen children through the 1930s and 1940s, and had very little time for anyone complaining about fibres or colours: if it kept you warm, you better be happy (and keep quiet about blue not being your favourite colour).
My grandmother has influenced me more than anyone else. Whenever I am with her, we make things. Arthritis has sadly put a stop to most of her creative endeavours, but she is a wonderfully multi-facetted crafter: sewing, knitting, crocheting, hardanger-embroidery, cross-stitching, and .. I can think of at least five other crafts she has tried.
She started knitting me pullovers and cardigans when I was a baby and, well, she has only stopped now due to her arthritis. My grandmother made me the pullover I am wearing in the picture below. I think I am about six years old in the photo. She favours cables and textures above all other things, although she is also extremely fond of fair-isle knitting, and as Gran has never done lace knitting, I made her a lace shawl for Christmas (it was very well-received).
The most important craft lesson she has taught me? You can make it yourself.
My mother is no less crafty, although she channels her creative energy into other things such as gardening and writing. Mum crochets more than she knits and she tends towards making things for her home: table cloths, napkins and doilies. I think I get my love of delicate projects from her, as she prefers extremely fine/small-gauge work to quick projects. Her attention to details is legendary.
I do not remember when I was taught to knit or crochet, but I know that all my life I have been Making Things (and now I live with someone who also Makes Things). As a child I would knit fair-isle pullovers for my dolls(!) and made quite good pocket-money selling dolls' clothes to the neighbourhood kids. As a teenager I was mostly caught up in crocheting (and calligraphy, but that is another story) and made myself some, ahem, interesting pullovers. I abandoned knitting and crocheting for almost a decade, but rediscovered my roots when I found myself with some unexpected downtime. Nowadays I cannot imagine myself not creating things with my hands. It calms me and strengthens me in often surprising ways.
And, most of all, I am a fifth-generation* crafter and I feel connected to my family history every time I pick up my needles.
*at least
In Her Soft Wind I Will Whisper
Lady on the left? My great-grandmother. She would have been ninety-four today.
The photo was taken in the early 1950s outside her cottage and she is with two of her sons, K and T.
I have several photos of her; my other favourite is from the 1930s when she was approached by a travelling salesman who wanted her to become a hair model. I presume she shot him one of her withering glances. The photo shows her with long, gorgeous hair. I was told it was chestnut-coloured. The photo is black/white.
I was lucky enough to grow up around her. She minded me when I was pre-kindergarten and I spent most of my school holidays in her cottage. Her cottage did not have running water until I was maybe seven or eight and never got central heating. I can still envision her sitting in her chair in front of the kerosene-fuelled stove. She'd knit long garter stitch strips from yarn scraps and sew them into blankets. I think she was the one who taught me to knit. She was certainly the one who taught me how to skip rope.
Happy birthday, momse. We may not always have seen eye to eye, but we loved and understood each other. And I still miss you.
Title comes from this beautiful farewell song (youtube link). Post reposted from 2009 with Momse's age amended. I continue to miss her.
Counting the Days
This entry's by request..
Starting on the fourth Sunday before Christmas, Danes will open so-called "advent presents" and light a candle in their advent krans (I have not made an advent krans since the year one caught fire in my Copenhagen flat and nearly burned down the house). The presents are usually small - I have been known to find novelty socks in my parcels.
However, my gran has obviously decided that a "small present" equals giving me 11 (ELEVEN) balls of yummy DK-weight superwash wool in a rather fetching shade of red. She's included a pattern for a yoked cardigan too. I have three more parcels to go. I dread to think what she might have come up with. Incidentally David found a handknitted beanie in his advent present. I seem to spot a theme..
(Sorry about the '80s feel about this photo - it was the best I could do in order to capture the colour)
The advent calendar is a variation upon a theme. When I was very young, I would get a julekalender instead, much like the one Linn is blogging about. Twenty-four tiny parcels, one for each day leading up to Christmas. The presents were tiny - maybe a pencil or a piece of chocolate - but they served their purpose. I got out of bed on time and I kept track of how many days I had to wait until Christmas.
Linn mentions something which I really miss here in Scotland: the calendar candle (not to be confused with the advent krans). One candle with numbers 1 to 24 clearly marked and each day you burn away one number. Just before December 1st, you make a "juledekoration" to really display the candle (I have fond memories of going to the woods with my family and finding materials for these things) and then each night as you are having dinner or tea, you light the candle. The trick is to get the right size candle so you do not burn away the numbers too quickly or slowly.
And the final way of counting the days? The televised yule calendar. Yup, twenty-four episodes of a special Christmas children's show with one episode shown per day. It's usually about how Christmas is in danger for one reason or another.. You'd get a royal version with princesses and Christmas gnomes,one taking place in Greenland, a puppet version, a 19th century version and, well, one for the grown-ups (all YouTube links and, yes, Danes are very fond of singing..)
Any particular Christmas traditions in your family or in your culture?
Monday Mood
We have a pile of wrapped presents in our living room. David is celebrating his birthday this week and I finished wrapping his presents yesterday whilst he was out looking at naked ladies at his art class. I also made a head start on wrapping the Christmas presents. Now I'm all antsy because we have a pile of wrapped presents in our living room and I really want to open them all. I have never been the most patient person in the world.
David's birthday means that I will not be able to go to Gourock on Saturday. Scotland's newest yarn shop, Once A Sheep, is hosting an Ysolda Teague event and I would actually like to meet some of the Edinburgh knitters I only know online. I'm also one of the few knitters who do not own a copy of Ysolda's new book and the event at Once A Sheep would have been a perfect time to buy it. Oh well. Maybe I should just go to Edinburgh soon?
(Speaking of crafty things .. if you fancy some Malabrigo, Madelinetosh or some luscious Debbie Bliss Tweed, head over to Make Do & Mend. Mooncalf is doing a blog giveaway. She is a lovely woman.)
Finally, I have begun yet another lace project. I'm convinced it is because I'm stuck doing the sleeves for David's sweater. I really should focus on the sweater, shouldn't I? After all, it is the boy's birthday later this week..
Self Portrait With Dark Felt Hat
.. one Halloween costume down, one to go.
Other Half is currently trying to consider whether or not to stab the ear with a palette knife or not.
Oh, decisions...