Knitting on Impulse

Flirtatious Fir

I just couldn't let go of this photo - the idea that sturdy brown fir cones begin as such lavishly pink little flowers intrigued me.

There is a lovely mix of browns, and even a hint of olive to set them off:

I chose midrange hues for part of the sock yarn, and pastels for the other:

and pastels for the other:

Both sock colourways have been designed so that the brown hues and the red/pink hues will alternate in full rounds for most sock sizes.

The BFL:

I am drawn more and more to the idea of semisolids and subtle blends - even in a richly complex colourway, I like the effect of choosing hues in a similar value range.  Except for specifically designed striping effects, high contrast creates a graphically intense variegation that can overshadow the colours themselves. It can be very challenging to create a balanced blend, while still honoring the spirit of the original inspiration, because light and dark are not the only factors in contrast.  Warmth and saturation play a vital and sometimes surprising role, and the balancing act is a delicious blend of intellectual planning and sheer instinct.

The silk blend turned out rich and shimmering, as always:

The merino lace palette honors the delicacy of the wee blooms:

Fragrant

All morning, the scent of these wafted across my patio workspace on the hot summer breeze - a delicious antidote to the clouds of steamy vinegar in the kitchen.

Lest You Think

that Summit Sock is just an arbitrary name:

These were taken on a ridgeline very near the actual summit of Blackcomb Mountain (I've decided on a Polaroid polarizing (that's what comes of writing posts at midnight) filtre for my next birthday). 

The sock in progress was right at home:

We elected to celebrate the beginning of the school holidays on Friday with a little mountaintop picnic - baguettes baked fresh that morning, cheese, some nice dry salami, a bit of fruit. 

Sadly, no wine - we'll need to scope out something a little more isolated for that... and probably not with kids in tow.

This guy was hanging out just under the lift on the way down (also a telephoto lens for Christmas):

Shortly after we passed him, a very expensive looking designer-ish jacket fluttered to the ground, and upon disembarking at the base of the mountain we overheard a conversation with the lift attendant: "Could someone please retrieve my jacket..... No, I'm not sure of the pillar number, but it was right by the bear cub."

A Small Extravagance of Time

As the school year winds down, and business ventures lurch past the hump of annual beginnings, I crave a return to balance, to a sense of being able to spend time on my children, rather than protest its scarcity.  A dog walk across the lower slopes of Blackcomb was a good start.

I brought the camera, of course, to hunt for wildflowers in the grass.  The dog was instrumental in marking their location by lying on them as soon as they were spotted.

One or two escaped squashing:

 A trip across the Bridge of Khazad Dun (there may be some slight LOTR preoccupation in our family):

Only MOM would stop in the middle of such peril for a photoshoot:

Fir Flowers

My goodness, the last half of June is craziness!  Impending summer holidays tantalize the kids, every other day seems to be an end-of-school-year special event requiring the juggling of schedules and transportation, and the Market has begun (with the undercurrent of angst that is looking to be part and parcel of that otherwise happy event).  I feel... squeezed.  Double the commitments and half the time in which to accomplish them - I've scarcely touched my knitting all week, which is always a bad sign. BUT sleep-'til-you-stop Mondays are on the other side of this two week bottleneck, and I can't wait!  A little sleep does wonders for the psychological resilience.  So does coffee with friends, which I did this morning instead of dyeing.  If the weather is warm and windy, the yarn will still be ready on schedule Thursday evening, and if not... Friday.  The world will not come to an end, despite the offence against my need to impose some semblance of order and predictability on my world.

I had no idea baby fircones (or pinecones - I'm too lazy tired lazy to look it up, but I think fir) were so beautiful:

Newly Green - the series

One branch after another is popping out with new foliage in a myriad of pure, unsullied hues - I couldn't stop at just that one, so here's two more:

A brilliant yellow green with flecks of gold - so much brighter and purer than the yellows of autumn:

Which became sock yarn:

Spruce - which is technically not newly green quite yet, because the new bit is still gestating inside those delicious pinky-brown coverlets:

The stripy sock, featuring 3 to 4 rounds of blue & green to one of pink/brown:

(It actually sold out before I managed to blog it, but I liked it so much, I couldn't help showing off anyway!)

The BFL - again, perfect for the Shifting Hues Scarf:

And the merino lace, distilled to the essence of the needles, so as not to compete with stitch patterns:

Confidence

Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for the wave of support and thoughtful comments!  It really did help.  Truthfully, I am OK with the idea of the self-taught creative, but it seems to me that there are certain disciplines (I suppose most notably the ones that are generally classified as "fine" arts) in which a basic level of formal training makes the distinction betweeen professional and amateur glaringly obvious, and painting is one of those.  And while the primitive / naive look is a legitimate genre, it's not an identity I am striving for.  Also, this particular venue features a number of amazing painters, and rightly or wrongly, jewellery and textiles tend to be on the fringes of what many folk call legitimate art, so.... I didn't want to be any more blatantly a pretender than I already fear I am.   Not that anyone has ever so much as insinuated that, come to think of it, so this may well be all in my own imagination, based on tales of critics I have never met, of work I have never seen.  I'm rambling.

To make a long convoluted story short, I think that the scarves are good enough to enter.  Well, three of them are (according to my instincts), and I have plans for a couple more which I will finish up tomorrow (curse those extended deadlines and their prolonged agony).  There are no guarantees with ArtWalk anyway - it is a series of retail stores who participate by displaying local artists' work for the summer, so acceptance of functional art depends more on an appropriate location being entered and interested, since display is a little more complicated than hanging a picture on a wall.  I got a wholesale account for my jewellery and notecards out of last year's entry, so it is well worth the effort.  Regardless, the scarves will be in the Farmer's Market and (eventually) on the website.

Enough of that.  How about some photos?

It was warm and sunny today... at last!  Which, happily, means I can turn the patio into a dye studio.

Crocus

I couldn't let crocus season slip by undocumented - there will, of course, be crocus yarn at some point!

Dance Like Nobody's Watching

A Very Good Day

I've decided that Wednesday will be dyeing day for now, since it takes two days for the skeins to dry in this climate, and I'd prefer to post them Friday morning rather than late afternoon.  Last night was full of anticipatory dreams about this week's colourway, which I think means the project has a satisfactory happiness to drudgery ratio!

The day started with an early morning trip to the gym (which I am very proud of putting back into my daily routine, after a 2 year hiatus).  When I left the building around 7:15 or so, a rosy glow was sliding down the line of snowy peaks, and above them was the promise of a clear blue sky.  It was a moment of utter, breath-catching bliss, the kind of luxury that can never be consumed, only received in gratitude.

So after getting the kids off to school, I elected to multitask for an hour or so while the yarn soaked:

No pictures of the working day (those are saved for Friday) but I was very happy with the results.

I must show you this, though - it was the last day of ski school, which meant costumes and colours, and a wee parade:

The Whistler preschool ski program has been a luxury that was not free, but worth every heavily pinched penny.  The classes are tiny, the instructors are incredible, and with two full days a week from December to April, they form very close bonds with the kids and do an amazing job of teaching and encouraging them - it really is a bit of a tear jerker when it ends.  I have been very sceptical of many childrens' sports programs, listening to the dads scream at their 4 year olds to "get it together" on the soccer field and the like, but this program has really been everything one could ever want.