Octember 1st

An Autumn Ramble about Knitting and Such

Today is October 1st. It is cloudy, and windy, and rawther chilly at my house (outside and in).

I will work at the massage studio later today, but for this morning I’m taking some time to start a new knitting project.

Or at least try to.


I recently finished one of the longest drawn out projects of my knitting career and now I’m looking for something to occupy the creative centers of my brain/time/soul/whathaveyou.

I say I’d like to start a new project, but the truth is I’ve started about four projects so far this week and none of them have made it past the second row for various reasons.

The most recent attempt was just minutes ago as I struggled to start what looked like a simple (and adorable) pattern for a baby bonnet from the Fall 2012 issue of Jane Austen Knits (Bonnet for Baby Emma by Susan Strawn). I attempted the beginning four times then decided I needed to look elsewhere because I was just not getting it together.

There are a number of patterns I already have that I’d like to try, but they require needle sizes that I do not own. I’m looking for new patterns that work with the needles I already have and this is seeming a more and more difficult task.

My projects of late, excepting of course my 4-year Neville Socks and a baby cozy from What to Knit When You’re Expecting, have been very simple, uncharted, dabbling attempts at making little bags, specifically for gamers’ dice. These can be made with virtually any yarn and any needle, assuming there occur no major gaps for dice to fall through. Eventually I hope to sell a few of them but I wanted to build a stock first. Trouble is I like a challenge and these simple little squares are kind of boring after a while. I don’t know how many more shawls I really need and the thumb of my Crystal Gloves (by Martin Storey found in Rowan Winter Warmers, September 2011) is giving me so much head pain that I’ve not gone back to those either.

Socks seem the ticket. Here in Western New York State I’m about to need warm socks in a big way.

So, what to choose?

My Neville Socks (by Erica Lueder) were knit on size 1 (US) dpns. The next size up I have in any needle is a 7, either straight or circular, but not exactly right for tight circles (I haven’t learned magic loup yet and am not sure now is the right time). So the search continues.

I just printed the longest knitting pattern ever (11 pages!!!) for a sock requiring size 1 needles. It’s either going to be awesome or end up in the recycling bin, so please think good thoughts for me!

If you are a knitter, look for me on Ravelry! My username there is CrimeofPoisson.

Happy knitting! and Stay Warm!

If She Is To Write

I have not quoted Shakespeare in a while, but I feel I must do so here. Though, perhaps, a cliche line, Polonius’ advice to his son still holds true, beyond all other phrases spilled out by characters who likely never realized the full depth and importance of what they said:

“This above all: to thine own self be true, 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man.” 

~Shakespeare’s Hamlet

 

Above all else.

 

It is important in all relationships, of all variation, to have a sense of one’s own truth. No matter how close you are to someone, no matter how much you trust them, you must have a sense of your own self, your own soul. You must keep, for your sanity, a sanctuary of mind.

 

So we come to Virginia Woolf and A Room Of One’s Own. Truly one of the only things I recall from my single semester of Intro to Women’s Studies, the following words have echoed through the life of this part time artist, and resonate still, both in hobby and in profession.

 

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”

~Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own

 

If she is to write fiction. Or if she is to write nonfiction. Or poetry. Or create anything at all.

 

 

The need for a room of one’s own has so much to do with personal needs, more than it is a reaction to those around one.

 

As I sit cross legged on our bed, a wall dividing our spaces, I am able to freely spill my thoughts upon a page, a step removed from my beloved husband. My trust for him is greater than I have for any creature. I have no fear of stepping wrongly either in words or any other ways in front of him.

Yet, seeking the innermost secrets in the inner most chambers of my very own being is something I alone can do.

Sometimes it is the quietest solitude of my own breath that can tell me what my truth is.

For you must be able to know your deepest thoughts alone, thoroughly secure, before you can falteringly or confidently give your truth in any measure to another being.

Separate yourself from distraction, from the needs of others, from even the loving attention of your dearest companions. Take time for yourself and your art and your truth. For one needs a room – a space – of one’s own to create honest wonders.

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