As I knit. I create fairytales. I weave in stories I can tell to Pia as she sleeps. In my head. In my heart. I let the colours that dance and flicker across my needles become something else. Castles. With moats. Deep brocade velvet curtains. Armour standing to attention. Merlin's spells and enchantments, magic brews bubbling high in turrets lit by candles. Colours, soft and deep for dark corners of winter days and night. Carpets of grass and dense forrests with rivers and rocks and moss embankments. Carts of fruit and vegetables, markets bustling - medieval stories. The words tumble as the piece grows. The magic of stitches spins webs around fingers.
I love the simplicity of this piece. Neat raglan arm shaping. Simple borders of moss stitch. A beautiful intricate camelia button the only flourish. The wool - soft and gentle, easy, smooth, and rich in colour. Deep grey purples, flashes of gold and green smoke, a tweedy aroma of age and the smell of lavender tucked in a drawer. Simple structured elegance for a 2 year old. A cardigan made a number of times, and always adored.
Time moves slowly and fast, and before my eyes my small child grows and no longer fits any of her clothes. So a few weeks devoted to getting her some clothes made is in order. Already I have made inroads on one pile of fabrics - a gathered smock top now made - should I tell you how beautifully it matches this cardigan?! A skirt cut and ready for sewing, and another new project without a name yet, cast on and negotiating it's stitches with my sketch book.