What little things in our childhood do we remember? What is it that makes some things special to us, while others get left behind deep in our memories.
I remember picking blackberries from bushes growing by the side of the road. And picking strawberries from the small patch in the garden. I remember warm gooseberries [and custard] off a wild bush tucked near the back fence. And I remember wearing anything that had images of strawberries on it.
I want for my children similar idylls which can't be recreated because of geography, time, culture. Instead they will take with them memories of other things which will have just as much glorification. My boy will remember trains, perhaps, the open fire at his grandparents house, riding on tractors and maybe even billy cart races with his friends. My daughter will remember the idol of her older brother [let me dream], making sure dolly gets tucked up in bed properly, and perhaps even the overly extensive wardrobe her mother hand sewed and hand knitted.
I cannot seperate my desire to have played a part in the creation of their memories. I selfishly look to the things I make as holding the promise of memory. And for me, the joy in treading softly around knitwear patterns has been the desire to share a possible memory with many of you. I don't make for the sake of making - I do so because it invokes something terribly maternal, or terribly personal which may find resonance with others through stitches.
So here - to Mulberry Bush. A wonderful eclectic slightly retro capelet for a small child or baby. Warm and snuggly, but eminantly able to be worn while sliding, running, swinging, or playing quietly with toys. A graphic item, using woven panels to highlight assymetric collars and off set openings.
Something to pick berries with.