Jeanette

This is my neighbor, Jeanette. She's 91, and has lived in the same house for 72 years. Last year she fell ill and spent the whole year living with her family. She missed her home, and managed to convince her children to let her move back. They won't let her stay over the winter, and so as soon as it gets cold, she'll be leaving again. That year she was gone, I realized how much I love her, and how much it means to me to have such a good friend living so close.


I can talk about anything with her. She has a wicked sense of humor, and is nothing like what I expected a lady in her 90's to be. She isn't stuck in the past. She isn't old fashioned. She doesn't complain about anything. I keep wishing that there was some way I could make her my age, so that we could raise our kids together, and she could show me the millions of things she knows about this place. She and her husband subsisted off of their land for most of their lives. She is a fantastic gardener, and did everything from making her own cheese to knitting her own underwear. I knew you were wondering if there was going to be something about knitting. During our last visit we talked about how women were treated when she was young. She said that there were three things a women was supposed to know, before she could be considered for marriage; how to make soup, how to spin wool and flax, and how to make babies. Well, women didn't really have to know how to make babies, they just needed to be able to do it, repeatedly. I was confused about the "making soup" until another friend later explained that "making soup" just means cooking in general. I do know how to spin, "make soup" and make babies, but I'd rather not have to wash the babies diapers in a stone trough, a half mile from my house, in February. Jeanette had to do this for all three of her kids. She also had to take over the farm during the war. When I gave birth to my son, she warned me against leaving him in a basket at the edge of the field. Apparently, vipers are attracted to the smell of milk on the baby's breath. Just after warning me about this, she gave a little laugh and said she guessed I wouldn't have to worry about this, as I wouldn't be plowing the field with a newborn at my side. This is true, but I did like to work in the garden with him, and it's always good to know what snakes do and don't like. FYI, they don't mind dogs, but hate cats.


This is a photo of her picking the bugs off of a cabbage. She didn't plant much this year, but she's hoping to come back sometime in March, so that she can begin planting. I'm glad that she'll be in a nice warm house during the coldest months. She still heats her own house with firewood, and that last year she was here, I was a little worried about her. Still, I'll miss her at Christmas. I'll miss the little trail of woodsmoke on the horizon and her socks drying on the line. There's always a good bit of repair knitting, a new toe, or a band of ribbing to make them longer. Each one is a little sculpture. Actually, she knit the cardigan in these pictures. She doesn't knit anymore, but she'll tell you that she's knit over twenty sweaters for adults, and many more for children. Sometimes I day dream about what it would look like if you took every thing that a person created in their whole life, and lined them up. Everything from their children, to the macaroni necklaces from kindergarten, to each muffin and pancake. I'll bet the line of things she's made in her life would stretch a very long way into the distance.

The Great Distraction

I'm still living in fear that I will never want to knit again. Every time I look at my projects basket, I shudder. Intellectually, I know that this is simply a bad case of knitters block, but years of yarn hoarding and knitting book acquisition have made me more than a little committed to this hobby. I'm starting to panic. Walking away now would leave me with unspeakable amounts of free time, and a gaping void in my closet. I know that sounds like a positive thing. I assure you, it is not. I would only replace the knitting with an inferior hobby, which I would suck at. This would make me even more temper-a la- mental and hermit like. I'm going to limp along with yarn related activities in the hopes that I can lure the desire to knit back into my life.
Spinning is acting like a pressure release valve right now. I just don't have the brain for knitting, and spinning requires a minimal amount of concentration. In fact, it's better for me not to concentrate while spinning. I've found two spinning clubs in my area, and I finally managed to make it to the serious club. They are members of a real live guild. I know, you thought those went out with the 18th century. Well, spinning went out of vogue then too, but that doesn't stop some of us from being extremely out of date. During my first session with the serious guild ladies, I learned how to spin all sorts of kinds of silk. I really sucked up to the instructor, and was more than a little satisfied at being the first to finish. This is an ugly part of my personality, but genetically speaking, I come by it honest. I'm so rarely the first in any class, that I really relish those few instances when I can be impressive. Here's my bobbin from that class.



We tried silk noil, throwster's waste, silk tops, silk hankies, and some silk roving. The best part of it, was making punies. Just having an excuse to use the word puni, which sounds both child like and dirty, was a lot of fun. Our instructor, Jane, taught us how to card the silk noil out, and then roll it off the cards onto a knitting needle. After sliding it off the needle, you have what looks like a very skinny, very long cocoon. Some puni making tips are; don't try to card too much at a time, keep the silk at the ends of the cards, and when you're rolling it off onto a needle, make the roll as tight as possible. Now, you are a puni making expert.
Since the spinning meeting, I've been inspired to finish up some old spinning projects. They don't make for the best photographs, so I jazzed them up with a little fall color.

This is Blue Faced Leicester, spun and then plyed into a worsted weight yarn. I've got another hank of this, and a whole sack of roving. I'm going to try and spin enough for a sweater. This is assuming I recover the will to knit a sweater.
The next photo is of a merino batt that a friend gave me. It's much more peachy in real life. After I took the photo, I took out a good bit of the twist by running it back onto my wheel. It's much fluffier now, and I think I've got enough for a pair of mitts. I think the original plan was to ply this with something else, but I'm glad I'm keeping it simple.

Those beautiful leaves in the background are from a witch hazel that's sitting in a pot on my porch. The leaves look like they're burning. This witch hazel is going to get a special spot next to our bedroom window. It's been beautiful in every season. I highly recommend witch hazels. You get a pretty plant, homeopathic home remedies, and it has the word witch in the name, which makes it sound dangerous. A dangerous name is not something that most plants can pull off.
Now that I'm talking about something completely unrelated to the topic of this blog, I'm going to show off my new terrariums. We have a very large arched window above an old stone sink. It looks beautiful with plants in it, but they tend to block out a lot of light. As it's a dark room, I wanted something that would show off the window, without blocking the light: enter terrariums.
I think we can probably make at least 30 of these things without filling up the window.



They only need to be misted every week or so, and so it won't be a huge chore to keep them all watered. I'm far from being an expert, and there are many good books on the subject, but here's how we made ours. We poured about 1/2 inch of activated charcoal into the bottom of a glass container. Then I added about 1/3 inch of soil. We arranged our moss/lichen/ferns/succulents, and added a few objects. The activated charcoal keeps things from getting funky. It's very important not to over water these things. I can only imagine the fetid mess that an over watered sealed terrarium could make. They really are magical little worlds, and I'm so excited to have an excuse to scrounge for old glass jars.


I think my next terrarium will feature something architectural.