When I think about poetry in February, the images of red and pink children’s valentines from the mid-1950s spring to mind or syrupy sweet verses, so I took a different approach for this month’s Gathering of Poetry and visited Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends for Love.
Love
Ricky was “L” but he’s home with the flu,
Lizzie, our “O,” had some homework to do,
Mitchell, “E” prob’ly got lost on the way,
So I’m all of love that could make today.
And, thanks to Kat for reminding me that it is time for a third Thursday poetry post.
At the pattern designer’s recommendation, I knit my first version of this shawl in a multicolored self-striping yarn. The lacy border took a back seat to the fabric’s vibrancy and I wondered what would result if I knit this same design with a solid or subtle tonal yarn. I quelled my curiosity first with the peachy project and then knit a second shawl in deep fuchsia. Both skeins had arrived in yarn club surprise packages and, utilizing good stash management practices, each just needed the right design.
The combination of fingering weight yarn and a slightly larger needle results in an airy body of garter stitches. An unusual double yarnover (yo2) at the beginning of the lace row creates an elongated fiber filigree. And, I added a little glitter by incorporating a pearlized pink Miyuki seed bead on each lacy tip. Now, wrapped in tissue paper, each shawl is safely tucked away awaiting a giving opportunity as a silent auction donation.
Just in time for Valentine’s Day! Although these diamonds are not of the shimmery carbon variety but a well-planned placement of textured knit and purl stitches that create the illusion of repeating geometric shapes. The designer offered three graduated sizes: baby blanket, lapghan, and full-sized afghan. My version of the Little Gem Blanket is baby-sized, 32-inches square; just right to provide a bit of warmth on a sedentary evening of streaming videos.
What we designate as our TV room can be chilly on a frigid winter evening depending on wind direction. This room has only had cosmetic improvements – new windows and the refinishing of the original maple flooring. We have no idea as to the energy efficiency of the insulation. Slumped vermiculite? Or, it may even be the stitched newspaper–tarpaper variety we discovered when we remodeled the 1940s bump-out bathroom addition. Hence the need for wool warmth.
This small blanket project also channeled the best ideals of stash management. The 650-yards of superwash wool were remnant skeins remaining after the completion of the 2022 Vivi workshop sweater. That pattern was designed in the style of boxy Danish “night” sweaters which, coincidently, displayed an elegant collection of cabled diamonds.
The simple Christmas letter. A theme for stand-up comics and it has probably been the subject of an SNL skit or two. It is received with excitement as the chance to catch up but may elicit unintentional groans as it is withdrawn from the envelope, depending upon the letter’s length.
Certainly not of sociological merit to warrant research, but what do we know of its demise? Is it simply the victim of postage rate increases? Or, no longer needed in these TikTok days? A quick comparison of two of my personal lists – the 80-plus addresses comprising the mailing labels in the top drawer of my desk and my social media “friends” (air quotes appropriate) reveals few crossovers.
As I reported earlier, I am not inclined to make New Year’s resolutions but as 2023 slipped into a new January, I promised to try (emphasis on “to try”) and write more in the days ahead. I intended these written expressions to take the form of blog posts but I am now inclined to expand my medium from electronic page to printed paper. What unwritten rule prescribes that the holiday letter must be Yuletide greetings? Better timing might be a Fourth of July letter, a mid-summer missive, amid sparklers, s’mores or, as Nat King Cole croons “…[during] those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer; [to] dust off the sun and moon and sing a song [that is a letter] of cheer.” Or a crazy concoction of Christmas letter and sweet childhood valentines. Cannot you just hear James Bond sophisticated confidence: “Shaken not stirred” so as not to disturb the delicate lacy heart shaped edges?
This oddly timed February letter would be written while still in winter’s hibernating time – before pruning blueberry bushes; before green garlic shoots force themselves through the composting leaves; before lilac bouquets – all while endeavoring to blend holiday greetings and catch-up letter. And, if I start drafting such a composition now, I would still be just days from the previous year so that events of 2023 would not be old news and, paired with plans for the coming months, could update family and friends scattered across two continents. A letter composed in mid-winter stillness rather than frenzied holiday preparations; a greeting without chocolates, without perfume (I am seeing the Versace Eros fragrance commercial in my mind) and without complicating the florist’s second busiest day of the year.
Halfway through January, nearly two-dozen days from New Year’s Eve, I may have landed on an additional resolution – one that is easy to accomplish by mixing time, HP printer ink, and Forever stamps in a cocktail shaker of Valentine’s Day greetings.
As always, Carrie Newcomer offers inspiration in song and verse. I have been saving her poem, Blessings, to share with you on this third Thursday of January, Gathering of Poetry. Perfect as the old year ends and new days unfold…
Blessings
May you wake with a sense of play, An exultation of the possible. May you rest without guilt, Satisfied at the end of a day well done. May all the rough edges be smoothed, If to smooth is to heal, And the edges be left rough, When the unpolished is more true And infinitely more interesting. May you wear your years like a well-tailored coat Or a brave sassy scarf. May every year yet to come: Be one more bright button Sewn on a hat you wear at a tilt. May the friendships you’ve sown Grown tall as summer corn. And the things you’ve left behind, Rest quietly in the unchangeable past. May you embrace this day, Not just as any old day, But as this day. Your day. Held in trust By you, In a singular place, Called now.
You can join the poetic fun every third Thursday as shared by Bonnie and Kym.
Not only is five Marie Greene’s favorite number (Who knew people had favorite numbers? Do you?) but this year marks the fifth anniversary of Knit Camp and I have been a member for nearly every month.
There is both joy and practicality in this small online knitting community. There is a custom app without all the noise and political rhetoric of the big social media platforms. I receive 12-15 free patterns each year, as well as easy-to-follow stitchery tutorials. There are knit-alongs (KAL) that include both a Winter Sweater Workshop and the 4-day sweater marathon in July; an exclusive Fall Mystery Shawl event in October; and, not to be forgotten, the annual Knit Camp at the Coast 3-day virtual retreat.
This winter’s “sweater” is the newly designed Taos Valley Poncho which I am not knitting but I am thoroughly enjoying the weekly online courses that range from an intro to New Mexico textiles, to how to steep white pine coffee, to learning the tuck-stitch. While a multi-toned poncho may not grace my wardrobe, I ordered yarn for the Knit Camp Anniversary Afghan. This is dubbed a 12-month celebration in stitches and will consist of a series of blocks – one design per month; each knit twice (for double the fun) in alternating colors. However, the yarn is simply taking too long to arrive, so my patience is thin as I check the front porch every day.
There is that moment when muscle memory takes over and the body no longer requires a millisecond of extra thought to remember to write a new year. My already growing list of new, one-time tasks has me firmly planted in 2024 even as my mental flipbook retains vestiges of the old year and I wonder if free verse might capture the blur of my December into January days.
As never before, shopping on a rainy, dark Christmas Eve after landing A one day Christmas with brown paper bag wrappings & shiny sticky bows Delayed never wrapped presents in Amazon boxes A year of thirds and seconds Three Tennessee trips Two funerals Two positive Covid tests Without a holiday letter, unchronicled visitors from Wisconsin, Illinois & Arizona Weeks of planning and a century of celebration.
A first of the year reporting on an end of the year project.
Earlier Project Peace knit-alongs (KAL) featured an original new pattern custom designed specifically to reflect that year’s theme but simplicity framed this 2.0 KAL. In preparation, Healthy Knitter Christina Campbell suggested choosing from among one of her earlier designs or the Anica Shawl. I chose the latter and paired her recommendation with a wonderful single skein of merino blended fingering from South Africa that was hand dyed exclusively for the 2022 Strickmich yarn club. Yard by yard, the bold Happy Crowd colorway revealed a self-striping vibrancy well outside my normal, often monotone, palette.
The Anica Shawl pattern incorporated a well-tuned balance of restful repetition perfect for Project Peace reflections. Yet, the artful lacework held my attention and produced a comfortable wrap featuring airy eyelets along one side and a picot border on the opposite. The result was so charming that I claimed this shawlette as my own.
It has been years, even decades since Richard and I made New Year’s resolutions. We are just not that kind of couple. If something needs changing, we don’t wait for a noteworthy date, we just do it. And, if everything is going fine — well — no resolutions are necessary.
This New Year’s Day I feel ready to commit to more writing. When I began this blog in May 2020 (during the early days of pandemic lockdown) I was simply seeking a creative outlet. Surprisingly, I discovered I enjoy this artful activity and 206 blog posts later, I feel my writing skills have improved. During the past few months, writing and posting have been irregular as life happened, Richard’s broken foot and planning Momma’s 100th birthday bash but I promised I would not apologize should posting slack off, so no self-recriminations, only a resolution to write more.
This story began long ago, 100 years ago today, when Momma was born on December 29, 1923, in a little house on 8th Avenue in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. It had been the caretaker’s residence for the big house next door. It did not have running water and Grandpa had to go to the big house with a bucket. He always talked about how tiny she was and how cold it was that day – so cold that ice formed overnight on the water in the bucket.
The changes in those 100 years are so numerous as to be impossible to inventory. Momma remembers riding in Grandpa’s Model T and there is picture proof; their family got their first phone when she was eight, a party line when each household had its own set of rings. (Not unlike today’s customizable iPhone ringtones – the same but different.) A time when train travel was the norm, and it took 400 minutes from Chicago to St. Paul. Men on the moon and women in space.
A grand adventure took her to Washington, DC as a “war girl”. She lived with seven other young women all working for the war effort. It was while living at the 5506 House that she met a sailor from Alabama. Dad was stationed at Patuxant River, Maryland and while on switchboard duty he called the cousin of a friend. Instead of the cousin, Momma answered the phone and that serendipitous conversation became a lifetime.
If I give into the temptation to chronicle her life this will appear more like an obituary rather than a simple celebratory blog post – so just some highlights that will bring us to today.
Two children – My sister Mary Pat (1962) and me (1952); one grandchild, John Lac, a lovely assortment of nieces and nephews now counting into the greats, great-greats, and even the great-great-great generation.
Four houses – 1226 Vine, the red brick house on 14th Street, The 40 (now owned by good friends) and the lake house, Inseli.
Travel that took her to foreign places – Australia, Egypt, Greece, New Zealand, Switzerland, Venice, and the Virgin Islands. Visits from Swiss cousins brought family connections to Wisconsin. The first two to visit arrived in 1972, not speaking any English, and just last summer, we hosted ten cousins, all of whom spoke English which made easy laughter.
This weekend there will be a party but no ballons. The students at St. James School, where she volunteered in the library for 57 years, sang a birthday blessing; there are jars of Smuckers seedless raspberry jam customized with her picture; and there has even been TV coverage!
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