On Valentine's Day

Yesterday, Valentine's Day, I had a finite amount of time to get started on a knitting project. The plan was to begin an easy hat pattern on circular needles and finish the inch or so of ribbing at the bottom. Once I got past the part where I needed to pay attention, past the casting on and counting out the rib, my thought was that I would be free to pick it up, knit a few rows when I felt like it and enjoy the project during the short trip we were taking. I have a busy few days coming up so it sounded like the perfect plan. Only it wasn't.

I cast on and began to knit. In the process I realized I had dropped my beautiful sliver row marker with the blue bead, and spent quite a bit of time looking before coming to the conclusion it was most likely on the floor of the airport and I was now on the plane. No problem. I would just break a piece of yarn loose, tie it in a loop and use that to mark the beginning of my rows.

I cast on and began to knit the knit 2, purl 2 ribbing. I needed to pay a little bit of attention here, but thought it would be OK to listen to the pre-flight information and instructions, chat a bit with Marc and make sure that the initial row of stitches on the needle wasn't twisted all at the same time. Only apparently I couldn't because I soon realized I was knitting in a figure eight instead of a circle. I ripped the thing out and in the process dropped my second row marker of the day.

I took a deep breath and paid more attention this time. I let Marc know I couldn't talk. I fashioned another loop of yarn to mark my row. I carefully counted out the stitches that I cast on. I made double sure that my initial row wasn't twisted into a figure eight, and then triple sure after being offered an in-flight beverage. The hat was progressing along smoothly until I realized that at some point I had knit 3, purled 2 and that half way though my rib, I was off. I took it out stitch by stitch until I found my mistake. And then I found another mistake and so made the decision to begin the hat......from the beginning......again.

There was a tangled mess after ripping out my knitting way too fast, which took quite a bit of time to un-tangle. I wound it into a neat ball and put it into my carry-on bag. No sense in working on something I enjoy while frustrated. Sometimes its just best to walk away, close your eyes and revisit the idea at a later date.

I know I love the pattern. It's practical, fun and useful. It will be enjoyable and easy to knit. The yarn is soft, the colors speak to me and it feels good to work with. February 14th has been halmarked to be about love, commitment and what it takes to make a relationship work.  I'll give it a rest.....but I won't give up on the hat.

Hope you had a wonderful Valentine's Day!

Warmly, Margaret

This Year's Hat

After knitting several (and by that I mean quite a few......) hats during the past many years following the same or similar pattern instructions, I started itching to find something new and different to make. On one particular afternoon this past December I still needed to come up with a hat to knit for the boys for Christmas, but didn't feel at all like making the trip to the yarn store to pick up more wool or another pattern. I had a pretty clear idea about the characteristics I wanted this year's hat to have and so began to see what I could come up with using the yarn I had at hand and the picture in my head.

I have a couple of boys that hike and wear flannel and spend a fair amount of time out of doors no matter what the season in Montana. Another tends to dress in more traditional business attire and lives in a larger Midwestern city where it gets pretty cold and windy in the winter. Marc's needs are somewhere in between. I wanted to make something warm and functional and with a good fit. It had to work as well on the trail or in the mountains as it did in the city. And it should probably be somewhat 'hipster' in order for the boys to want to wear it.

After several hours of messing with color and needle size and stitch, I finished...... and honestly had no idea what I thought or if it had turned out at all like I'd envisioned.  I was a bit cranky, tired of the project and became very aware that I was trying to design something for guys quite a few years younger than I am. I needed a break, tossed it on the coffee table and planned to search for a new (real) pattern at some point during the week.

When Marc spotted that first hat after having been away all day and not having any idea what I had been up to, he immediately picked it up, handled it and asked if I would make him one.  And 'Yes', he said....he thought the boys would really like one, too. Since then, I've seen them all wear those hats. A friend of my son's asked where he got his 'cool' beanie. Afterward he let me know how much he liked it when he found I had both designed and knit it. Out of the blue one day, Marc mentioned that his hat with its texture feels 'soothing' to him when he wears it.

Sometimes things just work out.......

Wishing you a wonderful weekend and week ahead.

Warmly,
 Margaret

Here

Is it possible to be in love with a place? To have somewhere that you want to go to and be with often? Where it is YOU who shows up, YOU that is greeted on the sidewalks and coffee shops and grocery stores? Where the other versions of yourself are left behind and the essence of your person, that person who you envision yourself to be, is the only one walking around?

When I travel I am rarely the Mom, the bill payer, the grocery shopper, the cook, the planner or the organizer.  Sometimes I'm not even the writer or the photographer, although often during visits to this place my mind and schedule are cleared and I am able to be those things even more so. When those that we meet in this small town ask what I do, that is what I tell them. For some reason I can define myself more easily this way here than I can when I'm at home. Am I more brave here? Less intimidated at having to explain that being a writer and photographer doesn't always mean a paycheck? That knitting words and capturing moments and creating and making is a way of life?

When we're away, in this place that I love, I often forget about makeup and wear my hair in a ponytail. Jeans and hiking boots or snow boots feel best. I might try out different clothes and jewelry, or a look that those who know me at home aren't used to........cowboy boots or an enormous scarf made of granny squares.

I love it because I fit things into my day that I otherwise don't always make time for......like listening for the train to whistle and rumble on its tracks around the lake and how this noise echos off surrounding hills and mountains. Like sleeping in, or waking up extra early in order to see the sun color the ice on the lake or the snow on the peaks deep rose and pink and yellow. Marc and I sip coffee in a small local shop, people watch and talk about nothing.....no problem solving allowed. Walk forty-five minutes into town for breakfast at a cafe where local artists and photographers display their work on brick walls, and then back again......no hurry. Chat with the owner of a sled dog team and his friendly, eager dogs. Taste the variety of brews served up in the local brewery, and watch as boarders and skiers  fresh off the mountain, populate bar stools one by one, red faced and sharing the best parts of their day. ("I'm convinced it's not the pow that brings them up the hill....it's the sun, dude....") Sit and read or knit all day with no other agenda. No urgency to cram in a few pages or rows before being interrupted by the phone or the front door or the appointments on the calendar.

This is a town that still looks like Christmas until after their Winter Carnival in February. That hosts the Skijoring World Championships. Where shopkeepers and business owners and their employees......and many others that I meet...... live because they want to. Because they all landed here one way or the other, loved it and stayed. Because, although in this economy, it may not offer them a chance to get rich and spend money, it offers them a chance to spend time.

Do I love it because it is a place in which I can vacate the schedules and busy-ness of my daily life near a big city? Or because this is more what I would like my daily life to be.

Here there are deep breathes of icy air in the winter and warm fragrant ones in the summer. And if the boys are with us, I watch them do the same things, too. And breathe.......

Wishing you a wonderful week!

Warmly, Margaret

Cool.

So, a couple of days ago I was sitting around with my nineteen year old and two of his friends. We're in Montana for the week, and since where we stay is within sight of Big Mountain, the three of them made the drive north for the weekend to get some time in on their boards. After sharing cool stories about a great day spent taking advantage of fresh, deep powder, and right in front of his friends, he very coolly said, "Hey Mom...if an old band comes to Seattle, you and dad should let me know and I can come home so we can all go together."

I  looked up from my knitting......which may or may not be interpreted as a cool activity by this crowd......and said, "Like how old?"

He answered without hesitation. "Bruce Springsteen or James Taylor. You know....someone that you and dad would want to go see."

Did you catch that, too?? My son just offered to go see The Boss with me?! And later on that day, I overheard him mention the same thing to his dad.  And all with a smile on his face. Not an ounce of holding back for the benefit of his friends.

This empty nest thing....this having kids leave home thing: I sure hope I haven't made it seem any easier than it really is. I sure hope that because I've enjoyed sharing the good parts....the parts that make my eyes tear up with pride and my heart nearly burst with love, that I have in any way sugar-coated the experiences involved. Because it IS difficult.  Even when I know without a doubt that each of my boys are doing exactly what it is that they should be doing......whatever it is that they NEED to do be doing......to become the autonomous, self reliant, independently functioning adults that they are supposed to become, it is still sometimes difficult.

Put simply: No matter how logically I understand that life is moving forward as it should......and that this moving forward is all normal, right and good......it still kind of sucks (I actually don't LIKE that word, but sometimes it just fits) when your kids grow up and leave home. When they now live far away and you pretty much know they aren't thinking about you even one one-millionth of the number of times you are thinking about them. And worrying about them. And of course, they shouldn't be.

And it makes you wonder: Will we stay close? Become close again? Even closer? What will our relationship be like now? What will it evolve into in the future? To what extent will I, his dad, his family, remain a part of his life? Will any of them ever think I know what I'm talking about? That some of my advice is actually pretty good?

At my most patient, I quietly stand back, observe and feel proud. I allow and encourage the process to unfold as the universe intends. At my most anxious, I want to call or text or give helpful suggestions or ask helpful questions in order to grasp hold of just how this 'growing up-and-becoming-an-adult-thing' is progressing so far.  Sometimes I want up to the minutes details. Personally, I think I'm doing great at remaining on the 'patient observer' side of the line. I'm pretty sure, however, that each of my boys thinks I ask far too many questions.

So back to Bruce.......

"Hmmmm, " I nodded.

"Sounds great.........." I said, while attempting to still remain somewhere within the boundaries of cool. While forcing a too-big smile from escaping and ruining the moment. While holding myself back from running up the stairs and spilling to Marc that 'if an acceptably good concert comes to Seattle, our kid just offered in front of his friends to come all the way home and go rock out with his parents!! And if an acceptably good concert DOES come to Seattle, should we have him drive home or fly? Oh and by the way...... he's been wearing the hat I knit for him for Christmas and even told his friends that I made
it!!........."

But I managed to stay there.....within those boundaries.....

Sometimes this empty nest thing......it's not so bad. As it turns out, they still want to be  a part of the nest, they just need some time and space in order to figure that out.
  
Wishing you a wonderful week in your own nest....wherever that may be.

Warmly,

Margaret

Hoping For A Snow Day.......

Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls

 The prediction around here for the next few days is suggesting snow, beginning possibly as early as this evening. Living in the Pacific Northwest, the mention of even a few flakes in the lowlands is cause for a somewhat heady mix of alarm and excitement. Radio and television stations tease with short bites of information. They want us to stay tuned in.....and mostly we do. When gray skies turn white and the drizzle that is winter turns fluffy......we Pacific North-westerners pay attention. 

I grew up and lived for many years in Eastern Washington. Here, on the other side of the state, we call that 'east of the mountains'. The Cascade Range and it's peaks asymmetrically divide our state in two, keeping Pacific Ocean clouds and moisture sort of backed up and stuck on this side of the range. The 'west side' has more rain and a milder climate. We are cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter, while 'east of the mountains' has more distinct markers that herald the changing of the seasons. For snow or sun......many of us head east (or might I add, north to Canada) for the day, the weekend or the week. (I should note here that this has been a particularly beautiful winter here on the west side so far, with little rain and far more sunny days that normal!)

I will acknowledge that the above description of our seasonal weather patterns is somewhat lacking. I was only attempting to illustrate that, although we may have a lowland snowstorm here once or twice a season, wind and rainstorms are the norm.  I have now lived on the west side of this state over twice as long as I did the more seasonal east side. You would think that I might have grown up a bit by now and be grumbling at the mention of the possibility of cold, icy roads and poor driving conditions. But the truth is, the mention of the possibility of snow brings out the Eastern Washington kid in me. I will ignore those who complain, put on a pot of soup and watch it fall. Or pull on warm boots and a puffy coat and go outside.

When the boys were younger, I secretly welcomed snow days. I loved whispering in the still dark early morning doorways of their rooms that they had a surprise day off from school. I loved the four of us stuck here with books and movies, hot chocolate and Legos. I loved their red cheeks after a few hours playing in the yard, rolling up balls as big as they could and then searching for decorations for the one snowman they might be able to build all year. That there is a storm water storage basin a short block away where they could meet up with friends for an afternoon of sledding.

I'm often without a car on days that the white stuff is falling. Since mine handles best up and down slippery hills there are no other ways around, and since I can do what I do from home.....and since I've often planned ahead for food......Marc takes it back and forth to work and that's OK with me. Now that the boys are older and live other places during most of the winter, I email photos of our smiling Golden Retriever, hair clumped with white, after some play time outside. Or shots of bare tree branches turned lacy in our yard. These days I enjoy the peaceful beauty of a snow day and use it as inspiration for knitting or baking or picking up my camera.

It might snow tonight and for the next few days. I hope the weather forecasters aren't just teasing me. I have a full refrigerator and pantry. I have a knitting project, an empty card in my camera and a great book I'm in the middle of. Bring it on...... please!

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!

Warmly,
Margaret

9 AM, Sunday, January 15, 2011: Big, fluffy flakes are falling! Breakfast is just about on the table , but hoping to get outside afterward.

About Giving and Receiving

Giving and receiving gifts, to me, is not about quantity or expense.  It is about time and thoughtfulness and appreciation. It is about looking for and finding.  About saying 'it makes me very happy to know that you have this'.

More than one special person let me know, "I had a lot of fun picking out your gift this year." This sentiment was a gift in and of itself ......knowing that someone enjoyed the process! Hearing it reminded me once again how much I, too, enjoy the giving. The connections that deepen with each choice made, wrapped and presented.

I appreciate that my parents know that ice cream and chocolate in pretty dishes makes us happy.  The cookbook, the finished novel, the homemade wine, the box of handpicked micro brews, the indoor garden planted in a dish that were presented to us. The cards that hold photographs and stories and sentiments. The gifts of homemade candy, jam or snacks left at our door. The thoughtfulness of something chosen to make a portion of each day easier......sweeter. Something that helps to get me where I want to go. That says 'join in' or 'this made me think of you.'

At this time of year, I'm so very thankful for the people in my life. The ones that bring warmth or comfort or a sense of excitement through the door, in the mail, over the Internet or on the phone. Those that understand what I might want, need or dream about. I'm thankful for those willing to share some of themselves and what they dream about.  Those I'm just getting to know and who make the effort in return.

As the New Year approaches, wishing you a wonderful week ahead!

With warmth and appreciation,

Margaret

Who We Knit For

New commercials are playing on the television and radio. Red and green ads splash across billboards. I have a stack of catalogs on top of my desk. All of this serves as a reminder that the holidays are just around the corner. 

Last evening this is what I stumbled upon in the Vogue Knitting Holiday issue I just received:

"Holiday time in Canada brings up the age-old question: "Who do we knit for and how many knitted items can we churn out before present opening time?"

Having been raised by said Canadian, I remember watching my Mom turn out hats, scarves, blankets and sweaters during pre-holiday knitting sessions. Except, of course, when I was the recipient. Then I wondered after ripping through the paper and opening the box, how she had manged to hide the project from me as she worked. The first year I followed her lead I was nine or ten years old. I gave a pair of pink slippers I had knit in garter stitch to my grandmother. It was my first completed knitting project.

Three years ago I began a tradition of knitting winter hats for each of my boys. It is something useful and makes me feel good when they live far away and in places with real potential for cold, windy weather and lots of snow. I am an intermediate knitter at best....but this is something I can do. It goes quickly and after knitting several hats, I've learned a lot.  I will readily admit that making them has benefited us both.

The holiday season is appraoching and I welcome it. I will shop......but I will also 'make'. There is a wooden tray filled with yarn sitting on my coffee table; separate balls that are so beautiful before the stitches are even woven together. A small stash of finished projects rests next to the couch. No......I won't say who is getting what from whom, but I do have a list, and as many as I have time for will receive.

Wishing you some wonderful weeks ahead!

Warmly,

Margaret

Still Me

This past year I've spent some time catching up with a couple of good friends. The three of us studied at the same university, moved to the same city afterward and eventually shared a house for a period of time. We saw each other through jobs, job changes, new cars and boyfriends, and went on a couple of vacations together. We each got married, had children and eventually two of us moved out of the city where we had participated in each others lives on such a regular basis. We've managed to see each other occasionally during the past few years, but it all depended on schedules......and rarely included the three of us in the same place at the same time.

About a year ago......at the request of one of the women, we met up for another vacation. No husbands, no kids, just the three of us for a week in a condo on an island. I have to say that for as much as we had all kept up via cards and Christmas letters and the occasional phone call, email or visit, I was just a little nervous to spend an entire week in the same space after twenty-something years. What if we were different? What if they had changed? What if I had changed and the friendships that worked well for me in my twenties no longer did? But I went.

We clicked quickly back into easy conversation. After reminding one another about some old stories and then working through the details of our own personal new stories, we moved on.......to having fun together where we are now. Since then, we've met up for a couple of short stints, the most recent being last Saturday.

Reconnecting has caused me to give some thought to my twenty-something year old self. The 'me' in my post college years when I was truly on my own, making choices and decisions about how to spend my time and who to spend it with. Learning to identify my skills and interests, and to prioritize the use of what limited resources I had. 

And what I found was this: I am still basically the same person, still prioritizing the same things. Choosing friends and who I spend my time with for the same reasons; spending hours in ways I find meaningful. I still have a pet that is a wonderful companion (although back then it was a big orange tabby) and think that belonging to a family is a pretty good deal. Still love to cook up a good pasta dish. Write down my thoughts. Carry a camera. Still enjoy spending an afternoon reading or baking or knitting. Walking is still my favorite exercise; Fall my favorite season......although I might just say that about each season as it comes along.

Looking back at the threads that have run so consistently through my life......I find it comforting. They are my roots and structure and foundation. Although there have been years when I could not give them as much time or attention as I may have wanted, I have not let them go. They are 'me'.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!

Warmly,

Margaret

Lovely, Colorful Autmn

It's the first day of fall, sunny and 80 degrees and I've been knitting. I know the cooler days will be here soon enough and just the thought of them puts me in the mood to work on a  project. I knit a hat for a friend earlier in the week, finished the baby sweater I started this summer and got started on a baby's hat today. I should mention that I started it three times. The first time I lost count of the rows and the second, when I was nearly finished, noticed a mistake.  It's knit with a snowflake pattern in blue and white, and when I was nearly through I noticed that one of the white stitches was where a blue one should be and vice versa. It is a fun project......and small and quick. I don't mind trying to get it right.  

You've probably noticed......I love color. So you can imagine what it's like for me to walk into a store that sells yarn: I practically get dizzy. I couldn't stop admiring this sweater I photographed. (The view is from the back.) I have a few too many things I want to finish first but then I think I need to go back and find the pattern and the yarn. It was soft and bulky and I especially love that mustard color and those big stitches. It would look great with jeans and I can think of a million reasons I'd wear it. OK.....I think I'm convinced.

 The piece I wrote for Make It Missoula this week was about my visit to Loopy Knit/Crochet, a lovely yarn store there.....and about fall and knitting. I've provided the link here and hope you'll take a look!

Hope you enjoy a wonderful fall weekend!

Warmly, Margaret
 

Connecting

I've spent the last couple of days nestled into the corner of a couch with a cup of coffee, three colors of wool, wooden needles and a hat pattern. Big flakes float past the window as I work, collecting on the frozen lake outside.  During a break to stretch or eat or chat with my husband, I've spotted an occasional trio of deer or a cross country skier moving across the ice. They are stick figures silhouetted in reflected light. Morning and evening fog slips in and out and I'm content to sit and knit. A couple days working yarn in winter weather making something I hope will be beautiful.....connecting me with others who practice this ancient art.

I have to admit to being a yarn junkie with probably much too much of it at home hanging out in baskets and drawers and bags. There is something irresistible about walking into a yarn store and being surrounded floor to ceiling by walls and bins of color and texture and weight. Natural fibers are a weakness......especially when I come across those that have been produced in small batches. They are the ones with a story to tell about where and how and why someone chose to spin their wool or cotton or anything else into strands. My fingers get lost in the feel. My imagination in endless possibilities. I savor the thought of taking time.....of focusing attention on making a single item. 

A few years ago I ran into someone I went to college with at a pumpkin patch close to home. We were each with our little ones and introduced them to one another. She was holding a baby who wore the most beautiful red and green fuzzy-ish sweater. When I commented on it she mentioned that the wool was from goats that she and her husband kept. The sweater was from start to finish sheared, spun, dyed, designed and knit up by her. I haven't seen this woman since, but have often thought about that sweater. I love that the single connection I still have with her is a memory of something she spent time making. 

Happy Friday......I'm heading to the yarn store......

Warmly,
    Margaret