Fierce Knitter

Ah Ruth;
Its all because of you, you know. You got me started on this knitting thing…
(All photos by Ruth Scott, a woman of much creativity.And generosity too. I don’t know how many people Ruth has taught – lets just say many people have been pointed in many ways over the years.)
The hat is Sheep Heid, by Kate Davies.

Gorgeous. And thank you Ruth for letting me post this.

Another fairly obvious metaphor…

The lovely local park was created over the old Vancouver landfill. Every once in a while one can spot steam venting from the ground or something like this emerges as reminder.



But look what grows here. From today’s amble.



Knitting! Good grief it is a knitting blog after all. Scarf based on a chart from Cheryl Oberle’s Folk Shawls. It’s a gift for a woman I don’t see often but when we do meet its as if no time has passed. This is a rare ease between two very different people. I hope it will warm the recipient. 

New and Old Walks

Rice Lake, in the Lower Seymour Conservancy area. Another easily accessible park here. The sun came out, and the air had warmth. Its hard to see where the trees end and the reflection of the trees in the water begins. Part way through this morning’s walk, down by the Seymour River, a memory emerged of having been here – over twenty years ago, and not since. We swam in the pools down the trail. The things we think we forget.

Sunshine and I went to Brackendale on Saturday for the end of the Eagle Festival – this is the site of the annual eagle count. The count is down this year apparently. We saw nine, which was OK for a grey and rainy day.

And knitting – a riff on a Kiri shawl. I changed the edging because for whatever reason, attempting it as written kept the yarn turning on me. (Not a problem with the pattern, its fine, I think I had hit lace saturation, and a ruffle was the best alternative to yet more leaves.) Pretty, soft, no recipient yet.

(Sorry about the flipped photo, I seem to be unable to wrestle the editing into submission.)

Lightly Held, on the Longest Night

When the meditation group meets here we will offer incense before this statue. Lightly held – note the ease of the hands.

The days will have progressively more light now.

There is sufficient winter ahead to wear this once its finished. Its a gorgeous yarn, this lett-lopi. The pattern is Riddari, from Lopi 28. The model wearing the sweater is male, but this is a design for anyone. The yarn is a bit lighter than the plain lopi, and it knits up wonderfully, with lots of air, in a reasonably loose single. The colours are utterly lovely, especially that lichen green of the main body. With diligence this will be done by around that day on the 25th. Maybe blocked and worn shortly after. (Mind you, it is not good to tempt the knitting gods with hubris.Think humility oh knitter.)

We Called it Going to Church

Crescent Beach has been the subject of this blog several times before. It is amazing that all one has to do is walk just a little bit further and in this crowded city, one can sit on one’s own.

Both eagles and loons were heard but the heron was the bird of the day. There were several of them watching walkers from rocks just in the water. The tide was in all the way. I love the call they make when they take off and fly – kind of like a rusty gate creaking open, a complaintive sound.

A recent finished object, well objects. Gotland mittens, hand spun. You can still smell and feel the lanolin in these despite several very hot washes. They should prove warm.

And a bit of weaving from a warp over a year old. Just to get it off the loom I used up scraps of sock yarn in a twill of some sort. It came out better than expected, it should work up as a couple of bags I think.

This blog…

…is morphing into an ongoing tribute to this place we live in.

From yesterday’s walk at Spanish Banks. Public art, entitled, funnily enough, Public Furniture, Urban Trees. The beaches here are lined with enormous driftwood logs which the city kindly arranges to maximize the sitting upon for shade or picnics. This is yet another use. Pretty interesting.

And this is knitting. It turned out surprisingly well considering it is a combination of leftover cotton yarns and two on-sale skeins of acrylic/nylon (the horror) purchased in a fit of insanity. It shall be a baby blanket I decree. We don’t have any babies in the surrounding area but always be prepared, that’s a good motto!

More From the Golf Course…

Who needs to head out into the wilderness to have encounters? We hear packs of these guys in our green space, these wild urban dwellers. The lost cat posters seen in the neighbourhood are a testament to the adaptability of the coyote. These are creatures to be admired – like the urban eagles and hawks that live in the park near us they seem to have established a way to live here. It’s an uncomfortable collision between worlds at times – but this fellow seems to have a system worked out. Some poor old mouse in the grass is not so lucky.

Two ounces of cashmere, one in cloud form, and one as raw fleece became first this:

then this:

The raw fleece washed up into a much lighter, and much less “goaty” smelling fibre. Both spun up a bit slubby but as a two ply a lot of the flaws were absorbed into the yarn. There were a lot of guard hairs in the raw fleece as well, and even now as the gloves are worn hairs poke out to be removed. It’s OK, the gloves are incredibly light and soft, I just reserve the right to maybe only use the processed fleece in the future. These gloves are incredibly warm – made just in time to be stored for cool weather. Very basic pattern, essentially a tube with a thumb stuck in it.

Next project, carding up some washed Polwarth locks, just expanding the skill set bit by bit.

This is more rustic yarn in the making – this wasn’t a top quality bag of fleece and there are a fair number of short bits and hunks of vegi matter, but hopefully some carding skills will be improved. Rustic yarn is kind of fun anyhow.

Urban Hike

A bit of a different scene now that we have returned home. The Fraser River again a theme. This is Foreshore Park on a cool, quiet morning. Doesn’t evoke the awe that a grizzly sighting or mountain vista might, but soothes the heart nonetheless.

Socks also a recurring theme. Sailor rib, Kroy yarn, easy project.

Oh For Heaven’s Sake…

We are on the road again. The wool vest has worked out very well.

Nairn Falls Provincial Park. We didn’t get more than a couple of hours down the road from home to end up here. So beautiful in the sun we thought this was a fine destination for today. The plan: meandering walks in the afternoon.

The Gift of Time

A person has returned to our life from about a decade ago. No big story here, just someone who was a colleague and who moved on. A kind and skilled person, one who evokes a smile when remembered: “Oh yes, she was good to work with.” In recent weeks this person has offered her time. She has accompanied us to certain appointments, offered her considerable skills and presence. While we were on the road this was knitted with her in mind.

It is fairly basic, based on a free pattern on Ravelry, called “I am Biased” though really it is more of a suggestion than a pattern, because it was pretty clearly straight from a stitch dictionary. But the pattern helped in the planning process so I want to acknowledge that. The yarn is handspun, which took a bit of time. And then knit, for several hours total – it gets a bit gruelling doing the same thing over and over on a piece this size, but perfect for travel. The colours are subtle, and meant to reflect deep forest. (Dyed by another, label long gone. Keeping the little tags is apparently not a priority. Too bad, this was good work.) It’s alpaca and silk, and I think the recipient may like that. The idea was to try to say thank you for the gift of time, in the form of a gift of time.

We saw much more than bears and moose on this last trip. What a wonder it was to travel in early spring. The bird life was amazing. All sorts of flying creatures were pairing off, squabbling and noisily finding places to nest and those with young swooping and feeding them. We were serenaded multiple times by pairs of loons. The only time they quit calling was whenever I went out, phone in hand, to try to record them.  Some things we cannot capture and maybe the calls of the loons on deserted northern lakes is just one of them.