Dream On

"Every time that I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face gettin' clearer
The past is gone
It went by like dust to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, if its just for today
Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away

Dream on, dream on
Dream yourself a dream come true
Dream on, dream on
Dream until your dream come true
Dream on, dream on, dream on..."
- Aerosmith

So , what do you do while you work on a repetitive task like, "K1,yo,k2tog,ssk,yo;repeat?"

I daydream.

Now, some people dream of traveling to foreign lands. Some have erotic fantasies about the Chippendales. I'm boring. I dream of yarn.

Most of my ideas begin with a nudge, "Hmmm...that might be interesting..."

Which becomes a question, "What would it look like?"

Which evolves into window shopping, "Ooh, that yarn would be great..."

Which leads to financial examination, "How can my account be overdrawn? I still have checks!"

Which is resolved by acquisition, "Is the mail here yet?"

Which serves as a springboard to architectural exploration, "I'm looking for a pattern that bring out the best in the yarn and gets the idea across."

And ends with several new skeins to pet, new projects to anticipate, "I'm telling you, it's like Christmas!"

And decisions to make, "Which one next?"

I'm still waiting for the Poinsettia and Fuschia yarn. I have yet to release Zinnia or Sunflower. I am committed to finishing Drizzle and Sedona (my first garment release - a long vest) this fall.

But after that?

Dreamer...nothin but a dreamer....

Want to come along?

Northern Lights - a wavy lacy stole design in Fleece Artist's Suri Blue, color Aurora (natch!)

Strata - a brown stole in four shades of Suri Blue with a simple pattern of horizontal stripes that echo the shades of a rock or the earth if you take a vertical cross cut.












Earth








Mineral












Mahogany












Ebony



But the "piece de resistance" will be a project I call: For the Beauty of the Earth.




























A sea silk ruana in multiple colors of blue, green, purple,and brown, in a patchwork lace design, featuring lace patterns inspired by oceans, skies, flora, and fauna.

This one is still in the dreaming stage, but I can see it in my mind's eye, and that is usually the first step. I even wonder if I could donate part of the sales proceeds to the Sierra Club or other conservation organization.

It will be offered in kit form and I have spoken with vendors about that possibility.

Now I just have to save up my pennies. I'll have to buy the whole skeins.

But for now? Dreaming is cheap...

The Second Time Around

"Love is lovelier, the second time around
Just as wonderful, with both feet on the ground
Its that second time you hear your love song sung
Makes you think perhaps that love, like youth, is wasted on the young"
- Cahn/Van Heusen

Many of my patterns are knit in two halves and joined at the center. The motifs at the bottom cannot be knit downside-up, so eventually I graft.

I used to feel vaguely guilty over the fact that I put a design on the market when my model is only halfway complete; like I was somehow pulling the wool over everyone's eyes and getting away with half the effort. I have always been honest about this, but it still nagged at me.

But today, I realized something: I have very few FOs to wear out of the house. And my customers do. So, perhaps they are not getting the short end of the stick after all.

It's not due to lack of diligence or desire. And it's not due to boredom. I often find the second half more enjoyable because I have the design bugs all worked out and the frogging, which is an inevitable part of the design process, is often non-existent.

It is, quite simply, a matter of urgency. When I place my desire to have a finished scarf or shawl to wear next to your desire for a new pattern, my desire falls effortlessly by the roadside.

My goal as a designer is "happy knitting." That is why I sign my letters that way. And that is why I hate it when one of my mistakes causes another knitter frustration. I don't care if I appear less than perfect. Hell - I AM less than perfect. Truth in advertising...

But I do care if I cause distress in others and turn what should be a relaxing, enjoyable activity into a source of anxiety. I care very much.

So, I am humble. Each time I bring out a pattern, I am humble. Some days, more humble than others.

And I am ever thankful that you don't expect perfection out of me.

I did work on the second half of Iris, while on vacation. and made significant progress before realizing I forgot to take the second skein with me to the lake. Sigh...

And I am firmly embarked upon what I call "the long slog" down the second half of my darling daughter-in-law's (henceforth known as DD) Hydrangea wedding shawl. The bride-to-be came for a fitting with her dress on Monday, and it's just the right length (big sigh of relief.) She loves it (even bigger sigh of relief.) Wedding is 9 days away, so I am pushing hard on it. I have renewed respect for those speed demons who enter "fastest knitter" contests.

Last night my DH asks, "You know, you have to have BOTH sides done, right?"

"Thanks, honey. Gosh, I'm glad you cleared that up."

I am, at age 51, firmly in the second half of my life. And I realize the statement above (I often find the second half more enjoyable because I have the design bugs all worked out) applies to life as well as knitting.

I may not have all the bugs worked out of my life (God keeps throwing me new ones just to keep me on my toes) but the older I get, the more familiar I am with the pattern and the fewer panic attacks and spasms of self-doubt I have.

And I have not felt the need to frog and reknit my entire life in years (not since the depression and ensuing therapy) I know the pattern isn't perfect, but it is beautiful, even as it evolves.

I am God's WIP and I will trust my designer to correct me when necessary. Until then, I'll just keep on knitting...

One More Time

Hydrangea, Chart A, row 5:

Last three stitches on left end of chart should be knit symbol, not ssk, yo, k.

It's a mystery how it got there. Maria's and my working charts are correct and I did not intentionally make a change there.

Must have been the aliens from Roswell. Either that or gremlins...

Hydrangea Errata

Hydrangea, Pg. 3, Beaded Cast On:

Instead of:

*3 plain (1 beaded, 2 plain) twice; 1 beaded, 5 plain; rep from * to last 9 stitches; end (1 beaded, 2 plain) twice; 1 beaded, 3 plain.

Pattern should read:
*3 plain, (1 beaded, 1 plain, 1 beaded, 2 plain,) twice; rep from * to end.

Sorry bout that, folks... It must have been the decongestant talking...either that or the body is back, but the brain is still on vacation...

Hydrangeas Here; Hydrangeas There, I've Got Hydrangeas Everywhere

"God almighty first planted a garden: and, indeed, it is the purest of human pleasure."
-Francis Bacon



HYDRANGEA
THIRD PATTERN IN
THE GARDEN VARIETY COLLECTION
An original beaded design by Susan Pandorf

Size:
80” long by 16” wide
Materials:
850 yards Handmaiden Sea Silk or Mini Maiden
4300 size 8/0 seed beads
72 dagger beads for ends
Size 3 (US) needles
Size 14 or 16 crochet hook (for beading)
Tapestry needle
Stitch holder
Prototype knit with:
Seashore Sea Silk
Miyuke beads #0263 (Sea Foam Lined Crystal AB)
5/16 Dagger Beads (Matte Amethyst AB)
Gauge:
6 stitches = 1 inch
Skills needed include:
basic lace experience, crochet hook beading (optional), and chart reading.

Saturday Skies

"The Heavens are telling the glory of God,
The wonder of his work displays the firmament."

-from Haydn's "The Creation"

Courtesy of Keith Burnham's Leland Report.

His pics are W-A-A-A-Y better than mine!

Here Comes the Stole...

A little girl at the wedding asked her mother afterwards why the bride changed her mind. "What do you mean?" responded her mother.

"Well," said the child, "she went down the aisle with one man, and came back with another."
- Anonymous

Apologies to all for my recent absence and Hydrangea Scarf's delayed release. Have been under the weather with a sinus infection. Ouch! New release date: Monday, July 28th.

So I holed up with my decongestant and a strong dose of antibiotics, and knitted up a storm on the wedding stole. Two weeks until the big day and I'm feeling the pinch.


The stole is turning out to be so lovely. I am into the second half now and absolutely thrilled with this redesign.



And my son's fiancee has graciously consented to its publication as a stand alone pattern (not part of the Garden Variety Collection) after the wedding. Release date: August 13th.


Those of you who are waiting patiently (or not) for Drizzle, Sherwood, and Sedona patterns will have to wait a little longer as this project has pushed all other patterns into the background. I am sure you understand.

If only I had three knitters working for me, I could release so many more patterns. I have over 25 designs in various stages of completion from conceptual drawings to nearly complete. Three knitters oughta just about do it...

Either that, or six hands...

Speaking of nearing completion...

ZINNIA SIGHTING!

Two thirds of the way complete and into the final chart.


And if the zinnias are blooming, can the sunflowers be far behind?



What's this?

Why it's a sunflower center, of course...

As if you didn't know!

See you all on Monday for Hydrangea's big reveal. Here's a tease to tide you over...

And for those who want to know...

Dimensions: 80" by 16" Yardage: 850 Bead Count: 4300

(Sorry guys. I tried to get it in under 4000. You could do it if you shortened it by one repeat.)

The Home Stretch

"Be free all worthy spirits, and stretch yourselves, for greatness and for height."
-George Champman

At first, I tried to find a quotation with the word "block" in it. But all of them were negative, about the things that get in our way.

On the other hand, the word "stretch" brings a range of positive quotations about things like beauty, progress, goals, poetry, and sports; all the things that make us stretch ourselves.

Interesting how two terms for the same process can have such opposite common usage, isn't it?

Sort of like lace, in a way. When you are working on it, lace is all about the stitches. How they come together, which way they turn.

Once blocked, it's all about the holes, as I begin to see the negative space, rather than the positive.

It's an apt metaphor for life: an intricate dance in which the positive and negative join up and circle round each other, forming the warp and woof of our existence.

Anyway, enough philosophy and sentiment. After the past few weeks of "think" pieces, you are likely to be full up. Time for a little concrete reality.

I am home from the lake and Hydrangea is all pinned out on the blocking board.

Talked to Evelyn this morning and it looks like we are going to push back release one day to Wednesday the 23rd, in order to allow ample time to get her up on both websites in the style she deserves.

It is hard to see her lines on the board because there is not a lot of contrast in color, but tomorrow I will have DH get some better "blocked" shots.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to vote on the great Mountain Colors debate: It appears that the three big winners are Red Willow, Chinook, and Mountain Twilight. Something to think about...

More later. Off to do laundry, buy groceries, and put a few more rows on Ashley's wedding shawl.

Look to This Day

"The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
Any fool can do it.
There ain't nothing to it.
Nobody knows how we got to
The top of the hill.
But since we're on our way down,
We might as well enjoy the ride."
-James Taylor

No matter how much time I think I have, no matter how long I stay at the lake, no matter how much I wish it weren't true...

This day always comes.

The last day. The cleaning out the fridge day. The washing all the towels day. The tying up all the loose ends day. The heading back to civilization day.

The day that can be delayed, but never denied.

The day I have to say goodbye.

When I was little, summers at the lake seemed a stately procession of endless days. My brother and I, cheeks bright with the flush of summer days in the sun, eyes a-sparkle with adventure, knew that school days lay far into our September futures. We lazed away our vacation under the watchful eyes and indulgent smiles of our grandparents and parents. And time stood still.

Now, I visit cemetery point to gaze upon my grandparents' final resting place. Their plots look out over the lake, between two birch trees, marked with bright geraniums, lovingly tended by my father, their son.

I remember the first summer we brought our son to the lake. We plopped him into the stroller one bright morning and wheeled our way down to the point, where he sucked his thumb pensively as I related the story of how my grandparents built the lake house. It was important to me that he know where he was, where he came from.

I lie in the hammock and remember a long ago drive up from Indiana with my then new husband. The rolled up hammock took the entire length of his hatchback from back window to front windshield, lying between us over the tops of the seats like a bundling board. It was our small contribution to family life at the lake house.

I am no longer innocent. I have drunk from the fruit of the tree of knowledge. I know that time moves on. That the day you say goodbye is always out there, lurking, whether we like it or not. Whether we are ready for it.

Or not.

I get a similar feeling when knitting a lace shawl or stole. It feels endless (especially if it is a circular - new definition of forever - beats "a turkey and two people" hands down!) You spend days, weeks, months, doing the same thing, knitting the same pattern, progressing inch by agonizing (or rewarding, depending upon your point of view) inch. And then one day you turn around, bind off the last stitch, and realize you're done.

This day always comes (well, most of the time, if you like the project, if you don't get bogged down, or distracted.)

Time runs in a circular fashion here at the lake. Some things never change, which is a comfort to me in the all-too-fast world we call home. And yet, the signs of change are ever present, as one generation gives way to the next, as new faces join the parade of family that passes through these doors.

The doors are flanked by the sign my stepmother Molly had made the year my father was trying to decide if the property needed a name. You know something poetic, like:

• Journey's End
• Heart's Rest
• Blue Water Bay

Rough translation: Funny Farm (I think that tells you everything you need to know about my family.)



The rocks lining the driveway were brought here by my grandfather, picked up (and lugged home) in his travels around the world. If you turn them over, and look hard, you can still read their provenance. You can imagine the deep love of travel and our earth that prompted the man who collected them.

And the pained expression of whoever carried the luggage.

Atop the mantel, sits a wooden replica of a Great Lakes ore boat, crafted in my grandfather's workshop when my brother was just a boy, and loved to play with boats. Come to think of it, my brother still loves to play with boats, enjoying both sailing and other forms of boating. His most recent contribution to the lake house? A canoe.


The upper reaches of the cottage feature flags won and signs hung from the family's past entries into the annual boat parade, (the infamous Bar-b-cruise) which we have won twice and placed in several times.



The sampler over the kitchen counter was completed by me in 1982. It is older than my eldest son.









The woods thin out from year to year, as trees planted in the 1930s when the area was logged over reach the end of their natural life span and give way to young saplings. I wonder how tall these oaks will be, when my grandchildren bring their children to the lake.

My brother and I both sat in this same pint sized lawn chair when we were smallm as did our children. Soon, it will belong to another generation, as my first grandchild takes his or her place among the family.

Time once again comes full circle, as the next generation write their own history, make this place their own, and learn to cherish all that it represents.

This day always comes.