six and a half stitches

STEPS TO MIDNIGHT

i [] 44timestwo is experiencing technical difficulties born by a server which has shut Charlotte out, and time differences so we are late with Monday's image, but we're hoping to resolve this soon. In the meantime, please take a look through the Archive gallery of amazing pairings.

ii [] I am updating the shop tomorrow evening at 9pm Sydney time. There is a wonderful coordinated selection of wool knit Fold Tops, Double Fold Tops, Swing Coats and matching scarves (suitable for both adults and children).

iii [] I have an incredibly long list of things to do this week and I keep clutching my lists, so let's start ...

I listen to this: The Secret Meeting 'Am I here'

Let's imagine. Dark night, just this side of midnight. Still. Quiet. Crisp air, moving slowly. Surely you can hear animals breathing. A moon shines full, glistening light bathing the sky and landsacpe in inky blue black colours, as silver threads of mist and clouds slowly move across it, highlighting recesses and cavernous shadows against sharp highlighted leaves and animal eyes. I'm sure there's an owl in there - yes, surely you can hear it calling. And by morning a gentle dew will have settled on the ground. Or perhaps a frost, sharp and icy.

Nearby there must be a graveyard, old and covered in vines, tangled bushes and ornate carved headstones. And there is a stone angel. Sad and gothic weeping over death. Large stone wings, poised above, watching the spirit, keeping an eye, as moss slowly erodes and takes it back to the earth.

And you step closer. Step closer to midnight, feeling the chill, drawing yourself in for warmth, pulling garments around close to protect and seal.

I am drawn to nights at the moment. It's the only time the house is quiet and I can think. I have been thinking about meme's doing the rounds (which I will answer) and about what I was doing 10 years ago, 20 years ago or even 2 years ago. And I keep comiong back to night times. So many of my memories are embedded within the dark hours of night. Insomnia. Abandonment of youth in the freezing winter huddled talking and laughing. Early hours as design submissions are drawn out with bleary tired eyes. Hotel rooms planning presentations. Hours spent feeding. Flying across countries. And I am particularly drawn to the colours of night, and how varied and rich they are. How vacuumous and enfolding they are.

This is a cowl for those memories. A simple but precise description of small steps through a landscape which will have it's own story, in whatever colour of weight yarn you choose. This can be easily adjusted for tighter step patterns, or for thicker wool by varying the stitch count - as long as the number is divisible to get an even number of stitches between each set of wraps. Pattern available through Ravelry and the Pattern page.

FUZZY LUSCIOUS

Today is fuzzy. One of those days where your head is slow, your body is slow, you're shattered tired, you want to curl up and sleep, because let's face it you haven't slept for the last two nights and last night was by all means a new definition of shocking sleep and inderterminate screaming and kicking - a night in which you mentally begin making plans for spending the wee hours of the morning at paediatric A+E and bracing yourself, and counting the overdue minutes on a husband returning very delayed from interstate......until somewhere around 3am the house goes quiet, and finally you sleep, momentarily, before the next child wakes because the first planes have gone over, and therefore by definition 'morning time' has begun.

Except, all that changed as soon as I left the house. And the grey weather and clouds, the wet weather we've had all week, and the autumnal scenes around us, suddenly snapped into clear focus - each colour intensified and alive. Greens luscious and dripping in saturation, orange leaves, glistening, citrus yellow and green leaves carpeting the pavements, all on a deep charcoal backdrop of tarmac, concrete pavement and sky. It was brilliant, in every sense of the word. Deep mosses on trees exagerated by water, leaves in their final burst of colour before leaving altogether, reds of industrial buildings popping out. Bouganvillea petals strewn and vibrant pink. It was wonderful, and slightly exhilirating to be walking amongst such clarity of light and colour, and I cursed not having my camera with me. Perhaps later this afternoon the light will oblige once again.

When tiredness hits, I keep busy, extra super busy - you're not trully tired till you're doing Extreme Tired - and we've dashed in to buy a heap of circular needles [you can never have the right one in the right length], done a music class, set up a new wireless modem, and after this I'll finally get the phone connected as well. Pia, she of 3 hours sleep last night, has fought vigorously the idea of a sleep, so I got her up, made sandwiches, and it went quiet very quickly - ahhhhh [please click to go through because this is just so gorgeous]. Quiet. I can do the phone, and I can knit and finish the Chinese Pullover, or keep working on another piece using the wool in the last post. I can hem two coats I've made - Swing Coats [and more matching scarves] in really beautiful fabrics for a shop udpate next week of which Pia is modelling hers that I finished a few days ago, fuzzy that it is. I could sleep, but that would kill the rest of the afternoon and evening I still have to get through.

And to just say one more thing about the food post - It turns out part of Max's issue is that he really, really doesn't like having the same meal two nights in a row, or even repeated in a week long period. He had a massive meltdown last night over lasagna again. Now that I know that, I can work around it. Funny, but he has absolutely no problem using a toothpaste that is apparently made from crushed trains [Macleans First toothpaste has a picture of a train on it, and therefore, is made from crushed trains - impeccable reasoning], but wont consciously eat vegetables. I've tried to explain trains are not crushed and put into toothpaste, but he refuses to believe me, and I will not fight that 5 year old [il]logic.

IDEALISM

As I've grown my children inside me, I've always had very strong ideals on what my role as a parent should be, and how we would parent. There were scenarios I pictured as being 'ideal', and things I wouldn't compromise on, things which just weren't going to be part of our plan. I think a great number of those 'ideals' were shattered within the first two weeks of Max's life, and it made me realise that ideals are just that - ideals. They don't represent certainty, and just because you want to do something, or you believe a certain dogma, it doesn't mean that's the best scenario for your child. Compromise and flexibility - it is sometimes hard to step back and acknowledge your wonderfully researched ideals, aren't what is going to work for this particular child, or within this particular family unit.

I always thought we would have children who ate well, and ate varied, adaptable diets. Children who would experiment! Embrace new tastes and foods! enjoy the cooking process! and want to be part of the food in our lives. I made sure we started solids the way research suggested we should. We waited, we let the child lead, we offered, we never pressured, we introduced slowly. When feeding became a part of their day, I offered variety, tempering adult meals to suit the childs palette and needs. Meals were always home cooked and fresh. Hell even some of it was organic.

I didn't factor into this, that as a parent there is only so much you can account for. Just because I wanted my children to love food, it doesn't mean they do. Whether something was organic or processed, doesn't make a difference in how they approach food. In fact, for about a year sausages were all Max was willing to eat. Didn't mean that was all we cooked for him, just if he had his way, that would have been on the menu every night. At some point all vegetables became revolting, particularly if they were green or carrots. Ditto herbs. Because they're green. Spices - forget it. Even pepper drew a curled up nose. Fruit was eaten in abundance, as was cheese and yoghurt. So there was some good going in, but the frustrations at mealtimes have been, and continue to be, hard. I have got clever at hiding vegetables in foods - grated and pureed and stripped of distinguishing features (peeled zuchinni in risotto gets hidden very well). I have eased up my frustrations knowing that over the course of a week Max and Pia will actually eat everything they need to grow well and function, and they will actually seek out what their bodies require over this time. I also know that a child can live on a very excluded diet and not need dietary supplements and still be healthy. But I am saddened that our glorious life of cafes, experimenting with foods and having a wide and varied repetoire to call on - even if simple basic foods - has not blossomed despite our hard work. There are days I fight it and make them eat what I've cooked even if they only take a few mouthfuls, and days I just can't fight it and cook what I know they'll eat. Max is starting to take some interest in other things - he loves it when we make fresh pasta, but I think it's more to do with the shiny pasta maker than the pasta itself. He loves it when I make fresh pizza dough, but again, I think it's the mess and the rolling of dough that gets him (although homemade pizza is now up there with sausages, which would be great except for the time and mess it creates when I make the dough and I wont do store bought pizza bases). I believe in time it will all come together and happen, I haven't written them both off yet, it just wasn't the situation I thought we'd be in at this point in time. I know this is a situation many parents find themselves in and by no means are we talking really extreme food dislikes.

The other day I made a big pot of pea and ham soup. I made it purely for Mr 6.5st and I. I got carried away in the cooking of it, and forgot to make a back up dinner for the children - thinking they would totally not like it or even want to try it. It's green. Really quite green. I had a moment of thinking they might eat the ham. Actually, I'd be quite happy if they just ate the luscious slabs of ham peeling off the bone.

They both ate all the soup (except the ham....). All of it. Max even put sour cream in his. Pia does actually like peas a lot, but she begged for more. You could have knocked me down. I even worry about tempting fate and giving them left overs tonight - this fine balance of liking one day, not liking the next.....But for this day, at least, they ate something green and wholesome, and they enjoyed it, and inwardly I smiled and screamed for joy *.

And because it is Wednesday, it means it is Vessel Wednesday, and currently I am knitting a little something for myself out of this beautiful Shibui sock yarn in deepest midnight blue and black ink  colours. It sits in a little Jennifer Graham white ceramic bowl from Emily.

* It was damn fine pea and ham soup.

FINISHING OFF

As I finished Pia's Lottie cardigan, I knew I would make her a little scarf to match. Something easy, and quick[ish], and I've had this drops pattern [babydrops 14-16] lying around for months. Perfect I would say. A little leaf shaped scarf, which pulls through a knitted loop. She can pull it off if she wants, but it can stay snuggly in place and adjust to suit different neck sizes. Instead of garter stitch, I used moss stitch over the entire piece and it has a lovely texture, which is really bought out by the variegated yarn. I'm debating making the matching mittens. I have a feeling Pia is not the mitten type. Given she wont keep shoes or socks on at the moment (and it's cold and wet), I doubt very much mittens will stay on as well.

I have also finished the Cache Coeur and there are images of that up on flickr. Another wonderful quick project which I think will become my new favourite baby item to make - luckily I have a number of babies to make for over the next 6 months or so, including some special family babies. It ended up being thick, and soft, and very wrappable, and I can't wait to see it on the recipient. I also want to adjust the pattern to suit a larger child because I see many possibilities for this in Pia's future wardrobe. That would be the wardrobe completely lacking in clothes. Of course.

Now if I could just transfer my productivity to the sewing table today, I will really feel like I'm getting through my piles. I cut out so many things last week, and now need to sew, and sew, and sew. And then finish off some other pieces waiting to be completed. And then, perhaps, I might be able to update the shop.

I'm still getting through emails and getting to answer people, so if you think I owe you an email, it's coming...

STOLEN BREATHES

Slightly just back from the edge, and it wasn't enjoyable. Or quiet. Or, for that matter, incredibly productive. There's a huge difference between being disconnected without intent, and deliberately setting yourself free from the internet. I did miss it, you, everything, words, pictures, emails, comments, a lot.

It did allow me some longer periods of time to concentrate on finer things, like lace work. I have enormous respect for people who knit lace - respect born of the time and concentration required to carry through the charting to a finished piece, and the ability to do it mistake free. I am always on the look out for simple, but effective lace pieces which balance thought with outcome in my precious time. The Haruha Scarf is excellent for that purpose, and I am thoroughly enjoying it as it grows and wafts across my lap. I love counting sequences - numbered order building into something complete. I count everything. I cannot even go past my childrens hands without counting fingers. I count paces as I walk. I love counting stitches.

I have likened this to butterfly wings - gossamer threads spangled with slits of silver in the stainless steel thread running through it - and I am constantly taken with the beauty the simple addition of the steel thread lends to this. While perhaps redundant to most people, this gives the delicacy a subversive strength - steel, and lace, and fine kidsilk mohair, a balance of fine structure with steel support. Steel - which is supposed to be hard and effaced, structural integrity defined, used in a thoroughly fluid soft manner. I can feel it running through my fingers as I knit, and I can see it shining as it catches the light. And depsite what I initially thought, it does give some shaping to the piece. The steel is so incredibly fine - a single strand of my hair is thicker, and that adds to the transparency for me. I do indeed feel I am knitting wings, which will flutter and weave across the wind to land on the spring leaves the pattern depicts. The piece breathes quiet, and so must be done while children sleep, catching their stolen breathes in it's magic, while the story of fairytales continues.

THE SHARP EDGE

Apparently I fell off the edge of the earth, and it's quite lonely over the edge....

A week and counting of no internet or phone as we change providers and it's killing me. I wont even pretend I'm enjoying the serenity. I miss the visual stimulation, and the connection with what people are doing.

But I am getting a lot of knitting and sewing done, so will have lots to show when I come back from the edge.

WHEN WE COORDINATE

A thoroughly colour coordinated day:

The sky - blustery windy overcast and full of greyness, whiteness and deep dark rain cloudness. Bristling leaves thrown through the air, and threats of rain. Cold. Snuggle up on the couch cold with the heater on, and some knitting. Just the antidote for 48 hours of gastro sweeping through the family [all except one small girl child who ramped herself up to warp speed energy. Brilliant] and a need for quiet time without children or commitments to recover and rest [a wonderful upturn is that I lost 2 kilos in 10 hours and can fit back into some boots which are the most fickle boots ever and apparently don't like me putting on 700gms. I will not take the boots off for the rest of the week. Nor will I eat, just in case. Except for the soup later on in the post. I might eat that. But only that. Nothing else].

The knitting - a long overdue present for a not-quite-so-new baby. A very simple and delightful project, a cache coeur wrap [no seams, even more delightful, and it's a Ravelry link, sorry for those not on Ravelry] done in very simple natural neutrals - thick, hardy, rugged, and enveloping soft as a mix of wool and alpaca give thickness and softness together. I don't know much about Jumbuk Wool, and this was bought on whim after a funeral [don't we all buy wool after funerals? why no, Alison, we don't, we mourn after funerals, we do not go out buying wool] and has sat unused for nearly two years. It's a bit scratchy and thick by itself, but the heather grey, when paired with some left over Eki Riva alpaca....transforms into something really quite wonderful and creamy. The photo looks thick and soft, and so it is. And it's knitting up super fast, another delightful scenario. It needs buttons.

The food - fresh fruit and vegetables delivered, and so we have potatoes, and leeks, and cream, and sourdough bread, and butter, and - a pot of Potatoe and Leek soup. With some chopped parsely and pepper as well. Just right for delicate stomachs and cold blustery nights. And I may make chai latte's afterwards [I might have the chai latte as well. But after that, nothing, not till the boots have worn out].

And so a perfectly colour co-ordinated day.

CONCERTINA THE CIRCLE

RED

A nice deep red, with hints of gold.

A centre of red

A flower in the centre.

A red flower in the centre.

A red flower in the centre of black.

A red flower in the centre of a black scarf.

A red flower in the centre of a black scarf made of fine wool.

A red flower in the centre of a black scarf made of fine wool and vintage silk kimono fabric.

A red flower in the centre of a black scarf made of fine wool and vintage silk kimono fabric held delicately.

A red flower in the centre of a black scarf made of fine wool and vintage silk kimono fabric held delicately with a silver brooch.

A red flower in the centre of a black scarf made of fine wool and vintage silk kimono fabric held delicately with a silver brooch as it wraps.

And enfolds, and caresses your neck. Wrap it around, and around, and hold it snuggly together with a silver pin off centre, pulling the folds of each circle together, and apart, at the same time, adding weight, and movement, and life.

RED NO.1 :: RED NO.2 :: RED NO.3 AVAILABLE NOW.

MIRROR ME

I've had such a lovely social week - lots of walking in the sunshine, feeling the warmth on my back, meeting up with friends, shopping, buying fabric, buying letters, buying cards, buying clothes, playing, running, opening and shutting gates, listening to music from my past running through my head like a soundtrack for my days. Little things, little pieces of nothingness which add up to something intangible, and delicate, and beautiful - little thoughts of a daily life, able to be put on a shelf, or photographed, as a glimpse into my little world. I love that. I love I can show you that. I have a growing collection of letters, which spell out different things - names, words, titles, and now some letterpress letters and numbers for 6.5st. I am always attentive to fonts - it used to be something I would spend hours tracing and copying when I was a child. The best part of assignments was choosing the title font. And not forgetting the colour pen or pencil one might use to colour that font. That is especially important. And now as a grown up - I look at details as versions of font and colour. I look at pieces of vintage kimono fabric, circles, and new scarves, ready and hanging, waiting for final touches. I look at the lines they make, the circles converging and concertinering back out, and I craft that post, for later, in my head [a nice big font in red, I think, to introduce that one]

And I realise that if we really look at what we see before us, and question it, flip it, turn it, mirror it, we can interpret things in a very different context.

TO BE CAUGHT UP WITHIN HIS WORLD

Max's scarf - a lightweight, fine stitched Bainbridge Scarf, from Crazy4dying sock wool, fixed with a large round horn button, that Max chose himself. And he looks so gorgeous in it. Max is such a wonderful child at the moment, I wish I had much more time just with him. He is funny, and bright, attentive, respectfull of, and to, everyone, and sees amazing things when we go for walks. He has a brilliant imagination and desire to build the things he sees and dreams about. He's settled down so well now at school, and has a thirst for learning new things. Counting is his absolute favourite right now, but writing comes a close second. Tomorrow it might be a different order. It doesn't matter - his imagination and enthusiasm has been caught.

And I in turn, want to be caught up within his world.