Yesterday was mean to me, so this morning I got up, had coffee in my pajamas, looked out at the gray gloomy sky, and crawled in under a wool blanket with my sweet, warm Catdog for a cozy nap. Every time I take a nap, I have the same dream about that strange secret extra room in the house that I keep forgetting about, where there are stacks of beautiful furniture and which has skylights and its own bathroom and I always think to myself, "I should really come in here more often." The view from the windows in there is so nice, and it looks out onto gardens that are not there, which is somehow never a clue that I am, in fact, asleep. Waking up in my regular house, which has no mysterious doors at all, is weird after that.
Look at this chip-carved drop spindle!
Friends, my wonderful Doc made that for me, because he apparently can do anything, and he will do so if I ask him to. Inspiration for it came directly from a photograph in this book, and I am wasting no time now in commissioning many more, in different sizes and designs, as long as I can keep his enthusiasm for it going. I think it helped that I sat right down and spun up a whole hank of yarn on it immediately, and he could see that it worked well and that I was in love with it. I made this heathered teal 2-ply yarn, and it was so much fun I couldn't believe it. Slow, slow work, but what's the rush anyway? I spin with it while sitting cross-legged somewhere soft so that when (not if) I drop it, nothing bad will happen, which means that most of the drafting is happening above my head and it's hard to peer at through my bifocals and also my old arms are aching, but that's not stopping me, no sir. I may have ordered some spinning fiber.
Oof, that's rather nice, no? It's so much more consistent than what I can make on my wheel. Slowing down is good for me.
Speaking of slow, here's the third block (of nine) in my hand-pieced quilt top. I anticipate this will take a long time, but its such a satisfying process, just poking along with a needle and thread. So calming, which, as I've said many times, is a state that does not come naturally to me. I have to go get it, so I sift through my stashes of yarn and fabric and create some calm for myself.
Obviously I'm knitting sweaters. There are so many. I can't even photograph them all. I'm awash in ideas, which I find both thrilling and also slightly anxiety-making, because I love to feel creative, but gah! I can not even come close to keeping up. It keeps me awake at night, I mean it. So, sweaters continue to happen at a rate I can not control. At least these two aren't gray. The stranded yoke sweater is a version of Lovage by Marie Wallin (more on this to come, when it's finished) and you can see from the scribbly drawing that the one up top is my own, knit up in Malabrigo Worsted, "Pearl Ten", "Vetiver", "Orchid", "Manzanilla Olive" and either "Polar Morn" or "Frost", because of course the labels are long gone and I can't remember. Anyway, that yarn is deliciously soft, so this sweater has been a late-winter sweatshirt for me, and a very welcome addition to my wardrobe. Both of these projects are attempts to knit from the stash, and it surprised me to discover how much fuchsia is showing up for me lately. I have a lot of fuchsia yarn in the stash? Huh? Well, I do. Anyway, knitting with color has been fun for a change. Spring must be coming. Please, let spring be coming.