six and a half stitches

BIRD SONGS

It's been such a lovely weekend - I can't even begin to say how much I needed to get away. It wasn't one of those deep relaxing, cathartic, re-energising weekends. More like, a chance to just be in the moment. To just let mind unfurl, to let stomach eat, and to feel the air. All things which seem simple, and ordinarily apparent, but which we often forget to do. I am trying hard to stop and acknowledge the moment more. Sooz has written some wonderful posts about it, and on her suggestion, to read Buddhism For Mothers, I bought the second book in the series, and have been trying to stop asking so many questions, stop trying to live so much in the past or in a future which has not happened.

A friend's beach house which has just been renovated [our design - not an architectural piece, more a utilitarian neatening of space], on a lake, on the south coast. A few boxes full of incredibly good food. I cooked, we ate, we drank. Salmon, ricotta and spinach ravioli with a white wine cream and sage sauce. Rocket, sauted mushrooms and chargrilled asparagus with roast lemon thyme chicken and fresh made cornmeal bread. Eggs bacon, left over corn meal bread and a garlic aoili for breakfast. Cherry strudel from the Strudel Baron.

I love the bush setting of the house. I love the outlook to the lake beneath us. I adored the swans (15 of them?) who sang in soft lullaby melodies one evening. Have you ever heard swans singing [honking, was a word we used, but that does not do it justice]? Before you die you must lie awake and hear a swan lullaby on a clear warm night. It is so lovely to hear - to really hear - the songs of birds. One of my favourite things is to lie in our bed up high in the house and listen to parrots calling around us on a warm afternoon. This weekend, I heard the birds all day.

And the best part was getting to go back to our little block of land and spend some time there. The plans have been sidelined till now, and so we take little moments every so often to go down and see how it is doing, re-aquaint ourselves, feel it all over again. There was a Bower bird nest - beautifully woven and constructed at the bottom of the site, which has gone for now, which is a pity, but I hope they come back. In it's place we found a Mulberry tree, with fresh ripe juicy flavoured fruit ready to be picked and eaten. I could make silk. Oh, if I could! But it is just a little tree yet. And flowers! The block was full of glorious colour. And I had to take something back with me to make it real - red flowers, delicate deep purple flowers and bush jasmine running wild. And sketches. Drawings, and linework for a house.

And tonight as I walked through the gate after work, there are the first gardenias in bloom, waiting to fill the front with their scent.

SOME:THINGS

SOME:
: linen some linen mix some yarn some pieces cut some sewing started some knitting planned some time away some quiet respite some good food some good wine some sand and beach some peeking in at the block of land some reassurance the bower birds and nest are still there some good company some hours with children passed finding and collecting things to photograph some rust series moo cards and simple stickers some thanks for the birthday wishes for Pia some thanks for wonderful packages from Kirsten and Caterine and Manuele some work on a very sore back

some lovely weekend on the horizon

Flaws

There is no such thing as perfection.
Flaws are inherent in everything.
Including button selection.

As soon as I posted about having found the right buttons - buttons which I had decided upon at the beginning of the project - I began questioning their rightness. And a bit of soul searching about the intrinsic qualities of button perfection, or lack of.  And a resulting  decision that there never would be a perfect button for this [the only photo I can find of Habu Kit#70 being worn], and that would be ok. So instead of perfect black horn elliptoids, you will see rectangular mother of pearl shards.

And they nestle amongst the drapes and folds of my little cocoon, as someone so kindly referred to it on a photo on flickr. They hug the upturned collar closed, they hold the reverse stocking stitch overlaps together, and they add a slight difference of balance to the long sinews of arms and pull of fabric weight. They are exclamation points on grey.

But this is a post about flaws. About the unattainable. About the way the process ends up in a completely different place to that which you thought it would lead. The things you thought would be wrong are ever so right and lovely. The wool, oh the wool, how I love it! The long thin drawn out sinews which are arms, that gently arc under the armpit and float down the side. The soft caressing collar. The things you thought were predictable, ended up being temperamental. The width exaggerated and a desperate need to pull it in - a point I knew about through knitting but needed to have it done and sewn to understand it's full effect and see how the fabric would pull down on the body. Don't misinterpret - it looks great, it feels great, I just want it to look Better Than Great.

Perhaps it just needs another look at where and how the buttons work.
Perhaps it needs altering.

1

A year ago.
Thirty six years ago. *
Who are these two? Are they the same, or are they seperate?

The answer is both.
Thirty six years ago [just to be clear, it's not my birthday, you'll have to wait till next year for that :) ] I was growing up half a world away in a different culture, with a different accent, with different expectations. I walked around with my hands tucked into my dungarees. My language was different. My best friend was called Beth. My best toy was a full size doll called Florence. I used to peek through a hole in the fence to watch the two girls next door - who would be such an integral part of my desire to hold onto my life in this other country that they became, for a while, a part of me without ever knowing it - and they would make me daisy chains.

A year ago I was holding on tight to a couple of precious people who were emailing me and giving me the best advice and wisdom and calming words for the anxiety I was feeling about what appeared to be long drawn out pre-labour. A year ago today I met Kristen in a playground and our boys played. During that afternoon pre-labour became labour, and quickly became full on intense labour. And the most amazing experience ever, particularly after the trauma of Max's birth.
And then she was with us.

This little girl, so determined, so beautiful and engaging. Her mind is her own, always has been, and she is very clear what she likes and dislikes. She loves anything with egg or ricotta in it. She adores the red car we have in the backyard that she can ride in. She wants to do whatever Max does. She wants to be outside, playing, running, exploring. She is confident, and assured, and older than her 12 months. She has a wonderful heart felt giggle and laugh. She has a head of small curls. And she loves pushing furniture around to the edges of rooms and space. She has an intense look of consternation on her face sometimes. And the most gorgeous garble of sounds. She likes to dangle things around her neck - clothes, tape measures, circular knitting needles, chains.

I look at her and often I see me, and am constantly disappointed no one else sees that. I see the side of me I keep internalised on display for all the world with her. Our last year together has been one of intense mother love for a child. I am far more conscious of what Pia has the capacity to become than with her brother, and also far more conscious of maintaining equilibrium in how I raise the two of them. I feel Pia attached intrinsically to me through generations of maternal lineage, we are one and the same person, and you never quite get that till you have children. How deeply attached they can be, despite being their own person. This year has been an incredible year of growth for both of us - all of us as a family. This first year, which has gone by so fast, and all at once I am sad for the year which can't be regained, and so incredibly excited for the rest of her life, which she will share with us.

Happy birthday my poppet - I am you and you are me.

* A day late for Flashback Friday, I hope you'll forgive the need to write on Pia's birthday instead.

LONG TIME FINISH WEEK

It might appear, to anyone visiting our house, or seeing me over the last 3 months, that this particular project has been a very. very. very long time in the finishing. I seem to have knitted. and knitted. detangled a second skein. and knitted till the hours became weeks became months, and only a centimeter was reached. I did get a little uncomfortable during the least few weeks when people would ask about the wrap cardigan and if it was finished. The end is always so close, yet ever so far away. This is a size 2, in a finer gauge yarn than the pattern uses, knit on the same 3.25mm needles. It has an Echino Estuko Furuya dots front flap (and is lined in a green version of the same material). The wool is Wollemeise sock yarn I bought a couple of years ago, and actually works really well in the ribbing. I used a little over 1 skein - maybe 1 1/3 skeins? A little simple pink mother of pearl shell button finishes it off.

And so ends the week of finishing off. I just have to get moving on the Garn Studio knit for Pia, and the Habu Kit#70, and maybe think about starting a whole heap of other new things...because that's what finishing is all about: starting new things.

CRISPY CRUNCHY

Clean and crisp like a crunchy apple. But what is this? It is a mere glimpse. I cannot show more till the recipient receives it. It is a tote bag as part of the Muslin Tote Swap organised by Caterine. I took some liberties with the idea of a 'tote' - most totes don't have bows. A bow! Why yes, a bow. A large one at that. In crisp green printed fabric from Aunty Cookie with birds and trees and you can almost hear the little twirping of the birds as they sing. Almost. Against a linen background, this is so clean and crunchy.

Just makes you want to go out and buy pretty things just so you can put pretty stuff in it.

More photos at flickr, but, ah ahh ahhh - no finished piece till Caterine receives her bag....

LAID OUT

All laid out and folded in half lengthways (this thing is big) - a continuation from yesterday's post.

WHICH I SAID I'D HAVE FINISHED MONTHS AGO

I smell.
I smell of.
Baby sick.
Why does that stuff never, ever stop smelling....no matter how many times you wash and wipe and change....
Pia, bless her little heaving stomach, is a bit poorly, as my late grandmother would say. We've cleaned up half of the local shopping centre. The kitchen. Me. I've washed, and she has slept. That is the Hooray! bit. Sick children I can cope with. It means a house of quiet for a day and an end to non stop questions. Pia sleeping has given me a chance this weekend to finish some projects which have been slowly coming to fruition over the last few months.

A simple baby quilt - which has been festering as piles for ever such a long time, rebalanced, readdressed, reconfigured, reconstructed. I've been working away on this, and frantically working away this week to push it to finality. It's a linen base with sashiko embroidery lines across the front section, leading up to a quilted band of fabric strips - various Echino, various assorted red dots, some wool blanket, some wool coat material, some Mod Birds from Cheeky Beaks. All sewn with raw edges, which Ana will have to trim for the first few washes until they settle down, but gives a very tactile haphazard feel to it. Some of the pieces have been sewn in on the 'wrong' side to dull out the pattern a little - I wanted the colour, but I wanted it washed out as well. A single line of alphabet tape from Auntie Cookie connects the two sections. Above the quilted panel is a band of dark charcoal cashmere, topped with another band of Echino Etsuko Furuya turquoise dots. On the back is the linen, a panel of grey cotton jersey and the continuation of the Echino dots. Some small tags in geys and an initial for Ana's son are also on there. The quilt matches with the grey wrap cardigan that I knit for him, lined in the same Modbird fabric.

And now the poorly child is awoken and is aggrieved - again - and so the next finished project will have to wait for another day.

PERFECT ELLIPTOID

perfect weather + perfect sunshine + perfect breeze + perfect light filled house, if a little/big/huge in need of a good clean out + perfect temperature + perfect rice salad + perfect thai dinner and conversation + perfect plans made, talked about, firmed, agreed [in relation to the last post] + perfect walks through streets and back lanes + perfect parcels from far away places and people

perfect buttons

One of the great pleasures of any project are the little details. Those missing links which pull everything together and which sometimes make the project completely worthwhile. The right ribbon colour or texture. The right location for a clothing tag. The right font for an embroidered initial. I reserve immense pleasure in the act of finding the right button for projects. It is almost sensual the way I run through the colours shapes textures in front of me at the button shop. I anticipated the time in there the moment I get fabric or wool. Like the way a wax seal with a family insignia used to be placed on letters, the addition of buttons on a piece seals it's finality. I have been planning the type of button for the lamb linen jacket since I got the wool in July. I could picture it's place on the shelves precisely. It has knit up so quick that I took a chunk of it in last week to gather finality. I love the elliptoid horn button I used on the Bleached Scarf and had instantly thought that would be The Right button in a smaller size. I find it very hard to buy just one lot of buttons though. So just in case.....some coconut [?] buttons came home with me too, if nothing else to take photos of. They'll get used. One day.

And on the way today we picked up a perfect parcel. More lamb linen in other colourways: a lavender grey for a sweater in the Setsuko Torii book, and more charcoal to play around with a pattern from scratch - something fun for Pia for next winter. I love this yarn so, so much.

OVERLAPPING

It was going to happen after the back was finished.
It was going to happen after the first front panel was finished.
It was then going to happen after the second front panel.
Or maybe the first sleeve.
The reality was that it started after the first front panel, and I did a little bit, and got bitten by the loveliness of the lamb linen and had to put it down. For there was real fear the stainless jacket would never, ever get finished, in place of this. But this last week I have indulged my time and energy into creating this jacket, and wondering how this process might be a part of it's story, and the way it is worn. The Stainless Jacket was about regaining some sense of Me - a notion that has been lacking for most of this year.
I have not found the return to work one of cathartic self proclamation - there has been no shift in ego dymanic whereby I find my true self through worthiness within the workforce.
Quite the opposite.
I have found it soul destroying and frustrating. The tearing of mind and spirit between mother and architect has been immense. My fear of 'failure', of fraudulence and some inner sense of inability to do my job, has at times reduced me to panic attacks and anxiety at the prospect of getting through another day. The daily compromise of wife/mother/architect/person is perpetual. Perhaps it will always be that way, but I'm not sure it's the way I want it to be. Or want to allow it to be. Where once I could switch off and leave work in the office and be mother to Max without compromise, now I find the overlap and the discomfort of both intruding on their respective areas hard and difficult. I can't be there totally for my job. And I can't be there totally for my children. There is a very obvious solution in all that, which isn't absolutely plausible at this exact moment in time. I am frustrated by this realisation - tired and frustrated. I wanted the joy and freedom, the sense of meaning and fulfilment, and it has dawned on me my sense of fulfilment is perhaps closer aligned to being at home with my children than being part of a coporate world.
So for now I wrap myself, cocoon like, amongst little projects which bring immense satisfaction. I re-read the post I did about the swatch for this jacket: I had forgotton just how much of my angst at returning to work has been associated with this particular project. Maybe we subconsciously choose projects which offer some sort of psychological healing - or counter balance - to our soul. The softness of the lamb linen in a very cosy, wrapped jacket. Soothing. The metallic resonance of the stainless steel, a coat of chain mail metal protecting me, providing a hard exterior core. The bright graphic colours and prints of Pia's new wardrobe enforcing the absolute love and adoration I have for my children, and the Life they give back to me every day. My sense of accomplishment is no longer gauged by deadlines met and documents produced, but by pieces of Self, made when I can.
My anthem - Atmosphere by Joy Division. Walk in silence. Don't walk away in silence.