Autumn Projects

Mine are piling up. I have the need to make, travel, capture images. I yearn to visit cities and their galleries, to go to the coast. But heat and humidity have me in their grasp and I must wait for cooler days.

I am completing a small cowl made from Dales hand dyed and spun mohair from well-looked after goats. The yarn is curly and I have to proceed with great care so as not to add extra loops on the needles. It’s dyed in soft oranges, browns and blues, occasionally bursting in to jewel hues. I’ve not worked with this type of mohair before, it’s corse and wiry. I am not sure how comfortable it will be to wear but it will be nice and warm.

Looked-after goats and sheep is a vital aspect of making with yarn for me now. I try where I can to care about the wool I use. We have a good number of healthy yarn providers in the UK, many work from stock raised here or sustainable Fair Trade areas around the world. The history of wool and the industrial revolution of Yorkshire makes me feel that we should be considerate of the past, although I appreciate that the true cost of healthy yarn isn’t always possible every time or for everyone, but we can work towards this. I certainly don’t want people to stop making.

Along with knitting, there is sewing to do. I may tackle recovering the sofa.  I have done this over the years, having been taught by experienced people working in upholstery. You have to be both generous and brave when going for something big. Don’t be miserly with fabric! I am looking for a soft green velvet-look like this:

sofa

Aside from knitting, this weekend’s for meditation and yoga for cronkies! The autumn calendar locally is looking good, but everything seems to be happening all on one evening – tai chi, zen meditation, singing. Programming…

Looking forward to September and the goodies I hope it will bring. Time for the heatwave to go away.

Autumn Moon

September and I’m editing the story – the book – the novel – the whatever – aka Butterfly Coffee. Third in to fourth round. A change of main character, of emphasis. It has been helpful to have others crit my work and me. Asking me why I am compelled to tell this story, what I can do to improve it and me.

It’s not been an easy process. I lost it once. Retrieved some of it. Some of it written by hand or printed. This turned out to be a blessing as it made me evolve the tale, it made me let go. and I do not let go easily, of anything.

I had a bit of a scare this week and was sent to hospital where I spent the day being shunted around on a wheel chair ( I could have walked!), monitored here and there, waiting for results. Eventually they let me away – they could let go – ruling out another escalating MI. The pain, they concluded, was muscular – not my heart, but other muscles. Asked if I had taken painkillers I replied no. So they stuffed some in my pocket and home I went – on the bus! I wondered if knitting could have done it. I certainly don’t do many strenuous weight-lifting style things any more. No more logs to stack!

It dawned on me as I sat in a corridor that my father died of his second heart attack on 24th September – six months after his first, the same hospital. Let’s not go there, hey. I went to visit his grave today – he’s looking pretty much okay, says all is fine. the aroma of Turkish coffee and Woodbines lingered, as always. I came across the artist Alexandra Dvornikova recently – this image reminds me of me and my father. He was definitely a bear, a very protective one.

I like the transition from summer salads to autumn vegetables – red cabbage for coleslaws, a hearty green cabbage salad, nuts and apples, soups, casseroles, crumbles. I am in a purple mood – my knitting is all purples at the moment, I’m liking purple fruit and vegetables too!

aubergines

From wildgreensandsardines.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m also interested in playing a balalaika – giving it a shot – if I can. I’m learning Italian again, watching Samurai films, exploring Nordic patterns. Books – arriving in the post from far away places. The Slavic in me is a strong force, a flow I have to go with. My father knew what he was doing when he taught me so much before I went to school. It’s always left me straddling two worlds and having an interest in many places and cultures.  I have come to accept that’s how I am. Many not few.

There ends my weekend burbling. Why do I write here? I write everywhere. This is only one part of the story!

Balalaika come to me…

balalaika