exhale

It's the end of the semester now, and I'm finally getting a chance to exhale.

It's been a tough few months with very little time to relax and reflect, which is why I've been scarce here. Working hard. Shoulder to the wheel.

Don't have much more to say about it except to say that even in the midst of the strain there were moments of beauty.  I'm surrounded by a spectacular landscape. When I've taken the time to open my eyes, as I did when Mountain Man visited here, it's gone straight to the soul ...

with wonders small (seafoam and sand dollars) and large (sunsets).  And now that I'm through the trial-by-fire of my first semester of teaching, I'm hoping to be able to open my eyes to these wonders a little more.

I haven't been knitting much, by the way, but I do have one sweet project to share with you. Next post ... coming soon ...

Big Sur to Joshua Tree

A couple of weeks ago, it was my birthday -- a lovely spring birthday if I do say so myself. To celebrate, Mountain Man drove up from Arizona on his magnificent new motorcycle, and we took the weekend to drive back down the California coast.  I thought I'd take you along on our adventure. 

 

We set out on Friday night, taking off from Berkeley, having a nice dinner in Palo Alto, and then heading down to Monterey. No pictures of that, I'm afraid, as it's hard to take snapshots when you're speeding down the freeway in the dark of night!   But this enabled us to get a good start on Saturday morning.  As the morning fog rolled out, we were cruising down Highway 1 along the Big Sur coast.  It was BREATHTAKING

We had great fun stopping along the way to see the Elephant Seals. What comical creatures they are, conked out about the beach, snoozing in the sunshine, tossing sand on themselves now and then. 

When we got down to Morro Bay, I had a good time watching the sea gulls, too.  I know they're noisy, bothersome jabberers, but I like 'em. 

By early evening we'd made it down to Santa Barbara.  We were staying with friends up in the hills, and there we could stretch our legs, recover from the road, and watch the sunset with a drink in hand. 

Sunday, we turned east. Inland.  Past the wind farms on the flanks of Mount San Jacinto. Then turning north towards Joshua Tree. 

We ended the evening -- and the weekend really -- in Pioneertown.  It's an old movie set built in the 1940s for Westerns, now sorta revived with a roadhouse that was bringing in one of our favorite indie singers that night.  We camped beneath a Joshua Tree ... 

with tumbleweeds blowing through. BIG tumbleweeds. Big, scratchy brambles they are.

 

We had a good night indeed, capped off by champagne in mason jars. Love it. 

And thanks for coming along on the adventure with us!

blocking for good or evil

This is the story of how a hat evolved through blocking.  Everyone -- myself included -- has waxed poetic about the magical powers of blocking.  What I forget sometimes is that those powers can be used for good or for ill!  Let's start with the hat: 

Fresh off the needles, it's a big, juicy berry. Looks like I plucked it off a tree!  The yarn is a gorgeous, artisanal, naturally-dyed, aran-weight, thick and thin wool that I splurged on five years ago at the Taos Wool Festival.  It was called "Como Boucle" from La Lana (which I'm sad to say has now closed its doors).

The pattern is the Picholine Hat from the Tunney Wool Company, with a few modifications in stitch count based on the needles I had on hand.  Now, at the end of the pattern you're supposed to block the hat over a plate.  I soaked the hat in warm water, stuck a dinner plate in the middle of it, and then balanced it on top of a tall glass so that the ribbed brim wouldn't be smooshed.

It took two days to dry like this. And it looked strange, very strange indeed.  Not unlike a UFO, especially with the trippy tree shadows stretching and waving across the backyard.

And the result? Dreadful. I may look happy, but that's only because I'm laughing at its absurdity. It was like having a dense pancake attached to my head (and, yes, I did remember to take out the plate).  

I had to re-block it.  I'd just seen a blog post from Stephanie Japel where she blocked a hat over a bowl, and I decided to give that a whirl.  This time the set-up involved an upside-down bowl balanced over a very tall glass bottle, and I pinched the spiraling lines to help them "pop" a bit.  

Still looked strange, strange enough that the neighbor's cat came over to investigate it ... 

But it did the trick.  Brought it back to a rounded, casual, slouchy shape.   

It's easy to wear and will be a nice splash of color and warmth for my sister, who's enduring a dreary late winter in DC. 

steamed coasters

Last time I was at A Verb for Keeping Warm, I picked up a remnant of yarn.  They sell these little bags of remnants so you can take a taste of them.  I went for a rustic silk yarn, Shibui Knits "Heichi," in a beautiful, tweedy persimmon.

What was I to do with this taste of yarn?  Well, what I really needed in my new cottage was a set of coasters.   I wanted something clean and minimalistic, and this is what I improvised. I cast on 17 stitches and knit 24 rows of stockinette.  Can't remember the needle size -- maybe a 7 or 8?  Enough to make a square roughly 4.5" wide and tall.  And then I knit another one, and another one.

They rolled up, of course. Stockinette does that.  I tamed them with a quick steam blocking, following the sensible guidance of Annie Modesitt.  I only have a tiny travel iron, not a steamer like she has, but it worked just fine.  I steamed one side, gave it a stretch, steamed the other side, gave it a stretch, and steamed the front side again. It went from lumpy and stubborn to satisfyingly flat and limp.

The textural effects of the steam blocking are even more apparent when you put an unblocked coaster next to a blocked one.  I can't believe I've been spending all this time wet blocking things over the last decade when I could've been giving things a quick steam instead.

I've been using the coasters every day.  They're cheery and serviceable, and they make this cottage feel more "mine."

Little things, big difference!

sunset in my new stomping grounds

Life keeps moving on.  This is where I live now.  A land of hills and bay views and glorious Pacific sunsets. 

Over the past month and a half, I moved from Boston back home to Arizona and then onto California to start a post-doc.  It's been a whirlwind transition.  Good thing I have the beauty here to sustain me. 

Above shows the sunset one evening from Cesar Chavez Park, looking over the San Francisco Bay to the Golden Gate bridge.  I'd gone on a run, exploring my new neighborhood, and happened on the sunset.   Below is the sunset from another evening, when Mountain Man was visiting and took me up to Tilden Park for a walk. The soft glow of the sunset over the bay was breathtaking. 

And here's the citylights on our drive back down into Berkeley.  

Another upshot of this move is that it brings me close to a yarn store that for years, literally years, I've been wanting to visit. A Verb for Keeping Warm.  I've admired their natural dyeing and read their blog for ages.  What a treat to finally visit and have this be my local yarn store.

I picked up a remnant of yarn in rustic textures and earthy orange tones.  New little project to come soon ...

bonnet-making

Last time I showed you a snippet of red ribbing. This time I thought it'd be fun to show you how it turned into a baby bonnet.  It's a simple and clever pattern -- Pixie Hat -- that I knit up in superwash worsted wool.  You start by knitting a rectangle that has vertical ribs transitioning into horizontal ribs.

(Here's the behind-the-scenes staging, by the way. It was on a short circular needle that wanted to curl in. I was holding it down with whatever was sitting on the patio table, which happened to be hand-clippers and a ramekin dish of cat kibbles.  Cracked me up.)

Once you have the rectangle done, you're supposed to bind off, fold it in half, and sew it up the back. Some people have instead done a three-needle bind-off. I did one better, I think, by NOT binding off and instead grafting the back seam together.   I put the stitches on two dpns and folded the rectangle in half:

Here's what the bottom tips of the dpns look like at this point:

You start grafting those lines of stitches:

Here's what it looks like if you were to spread the back flat. You can see how the grafting blends in to make it look like continuous ribbing:

Once it's done, you have a very stretchy and hilariously pointy bonnet.  The pattern ends there -- without any ties.  Some folks have added a garter band that buttons under the chin.  I decided to do an attached I-cord band along the bottom.  It looks so streamlined and ties easily (though perhaps a stretch garter band would be more functional?).

Since it's hard to see it when it's flat, I grabbed the only live "model" I had hanging around.  She was too wiggly and had inconveniently pointy ears. Did not work out so well.

But here you can see it on a very, very large ball of bulky yarn. Turned out adorable!