Feral Knitter

Folksong for a Knitter

How many times must I make this mistake
before I change my ways?

And how many stitches must I rip out
before I get this right?

"Cast on 300 stitches using size 1 needles
And join, being careful not to twist"!

The problem, my friends, is apparent on my needles,
the problem is there for all to see.
The problem, my friends, is there for all to see.*

*Sung to the tune of Blowing in the Wind

Once again. I cannot believe it! Join being bloody careful not to twist! I KNOW this. 

For those who haven't knit in the round, the instructions always say to join, that is, create the circle of stitches, "being careful not to twist." This means that the stitches on the needle should be oriented in the same direction, not twirling around the needle. When you are working with hundreds of small stitches on a long needle, however, this can be a little hard to determine.

Luckily, you have a second chance to fix the problem after your first round: then, and only then, you can twist the cast on to fix any problem. But that's it. If you continue knitting a twisted cast on, the longer your knitting gets the more obvious it is that something is NOT QUITE RIGHT. 

See the photo—that twist there? Hint: I'm not making a moebius cowl...

There are only a few things you can do at this point:

1. Cut open the knitting and straighten it up (this actually works pretty well if you were planning to steek a cardigan, but otherwise is a pretty clunky solution, leaving a bulky seam).
2. Start over.
3. Give up entirely and take up jig saw puzzles. Or writing song lyrics.

I chose 2, being a persistent knitter who has had to deal with worse. Besides, I'm totally in love with these glowing pinks..... The Lingonberry Sweater, my newest design.

In other news:

Otherwise I had a great weekend. Friday night was spent at A Verb for Keeping Warm. Kristine is creating a marvelously warm yarn and fabric store in her new shop in Oakland—so many wonderful yarns to choose from, rovings, colorful quilting fabrics, natural dyes: I bought a hank of Swans Island organic merino naturally dyed a deep deep violet (the website is eye candy, by the way—grab a cup of tea and enjoy yourself).

Rachael Herron was giving a reading from her new Cypress Hollow book (How to Knit a Heart Back Home—I linked to Amazon, but Kristine has copies at Verb)—and we also were treated to a surprise reading from Rachael's upcoming book of essays about her knitting life. Oh, it was more than good! I enjoy Rachael's romance novels, but her essay was so touching that all of us (including the men) were teary eyed at the end. This book will be out in September. Afterwards, a few of us sat around the table knitting and chatting—I felt so at home and relaxed in the company of knitters.

On Saturday, John, Gingko and I went to the Oakland Museum of California to see the new Splendors of Faith/Scars of Conquest: Arts of the Missions of Northern New Mexico 1600-1821 exhibit. An amazing display of liturgical art in glowing colors (all, of course, from natural sources), most of which had never been seen outside the mission buildings (the "Northern New Mexico" in the exhibit title refers to the northern area of Mexico, extending into southern California and southern New Mexico). It was especially meaningful to see these treasures during the Christian holy week, which gave emotional context to the art and artifacts.

And on Sunday we had a nice day together, working in the garden and giving the house a nice spring cleaning (I even washed the kitchen fan!!!), ending with a nice dinner to chicken and homegrown salad and strawberry meringues. 

 

 

This Sweet World

How strange and wonderful is our home, our earth, with its swirling, vaporous atmosphere, its flowing and frozen climbing creatures, the croaking things with wings that hang on rocks and soar through fog, the furry grass, the scaly seas . . . how utterly rich and wild.... Yet some among us have the nerve, the insolence, the brass, the gall to whine about the limitations of our earthbound fate and yearn for some more perfect world beyond the sky. We are none of us good enough for the world we have.
       ~ Edward Abbey, quoted by Edward Hoagland in Appalachian Wilderness 

I was listening to Patty Griffin singing All Creatures of My God and King on my iPod (which you might think is kind of odd because I'm not a Christian, but I can appreciate things I don't believe in—and this is a mighty fine song), and it struck me that this hymn, written by St Francis of Assisi in 1225 (Cantico di fratre sole, Song of Brother Sun) would be the perfect anthem for Earth Day celebrations. This isn't the complete text—go to this link to hear the tune and read the entire thing.

All creatures of our God and King
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou burning sun with golden beam,
Thou silver moon with softer gleam!

Thou rushing wind that art so strong
Ye clouds that sail in Heaven along,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou rising moon, in praise rejoice,
Ye lights of evening, find a voice!

Thou flowing water, pure and clear,
Make music for thy Lord to hear,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou fire so masterful and bright,
That givest man both warmth and light.

Dear mother earth, who day by day
Unfoldest blessings on our way,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
The flowers and fruits that in thee grow,
Let them His glory also show.

[...]

Gratitude, humility, clarity, and love that shows itself by action are what we need every day to meet the needs of our planet.

 

I Came Home Stinky and Dirty

... and happy as can be! On Sunday I drove north to glorious rural Occidental, California, to take part in the annual shearing day at Wyammy Ranch.

Carson and I picked up Valerie on the way. Green rolling hills at every turn greeted us as we drove north through Petaluma and Sebastopol, where we turned to head west. Old apple orchards were in full bloom and the road got twistier and twistier, sometimes dipping into deeply wooded valleys and then ascending to open fields dotted with the lovely coast live oaks. 

Aside: Now and then, John and I play the Lotto game: Where would you live if you won several million dollars? What would you change about your life?

It's a fun way to articulate dreams—which don't always require money, when you get right down to it. What is missing in your life right now?

I think, maybe, I'd live up here. But barring the millions (which we have no chance of winning because we don't buy tickets) I think my desire shows that I need to spend more time outdoors.

Maybe I could weed the garden.... 

Hmmm. Not quite so romantic!

The shearer worked quickly despite the paparazzi—the sheep were noisy as they waited their turns, but they were quite calm once it was over. And amazingly slender under the heavy coats! The Wyammy sheep—Romneys, Wensleydales, and some mixes—are all covered, so the fleeces are quite nice. JoAnn, the owner, is a spinner who understands the needs and desires of handspinners!

I got to help vaccinate the lambs by catching them and holding them while they got their shots and their little dose of worm goo. Then the red crayon mark on the forehead, making them look like participants in the holi celebrations. Beyond cute! They were about the same size as Shadow, and I know enough about animals to understand that they prefer a quietly authoritative touch to a doubtful, tentative one, so holding them was easy. 

Love.

I got covered with lots of unmentionable organic material. And I didn't mind!

Carson and Valerie purchased a glorious mixed-gray fleece. I, remembering all too well the pile of fleeces and rovings in my fiber corner, remained firm in my no-no-no stance. Such resistance took its toll, however, and I had no resistance when we stopped at the Wild Flour Bread in Freestone on our way home. 

My car was filled with an intoxicating blend of fresh sweet breads and sheepy goodness for the rest of the ride home!

Home Sings Me of Sweet Things

Home is where your stash is.
~the fictional Eliza Carpenter, quoted in How to Knit a Heart Back Home by Rachael Herron

As I headed off to the Pacific Northwest nearly two weeks ago, my past seemed to rise in front of me: the roads winding through trees brought back the many backpacking trips I went on in high school and college, the songs on my iPod were the same ones we sang along to as we drove up into the mountains—Richard & Mimi Farina, Bob Dylan, Donovan. Going home, where there are memories at every turn... 

Teaching at Churchmouse Yarns & Teas in Bainbridge was completely enjoyable! What can I say, really? John & Kit, Karen, Laura—the entire staff treated me so well. I taught in the Bainbridge Performing Arts Center, which offered incredible natural light; the food, from Blackbird Bakery, was excellent. And I honestly think that students in my classes self-select for intelligence and humor!

I had a chance to visit friends and family in Seattle for a few days, more memories. I was so happy to see them. The words of Lyle Lovett in "This Old Porch"—"Remembering the coming back and not crying about the leaving" — kept coming to mind. 

And then the long drive home to Berkeley, going to another home where my dear husband and daughter were looking forward to my return. Every song seemed to say home. 

Speaking of home:

Rachael Herron's second book in the Cypress Hollow series came out last month: How to Knit a Heart Back Home. I liked this volume even more than the first! Rachael gets better and better.... Not having Rachael's way with words, I will simply say, Read it!