Recently I’ve not had any deadline knitting to do, and I happen to have a lot of alpaca yarn stashed so I managed to write a pattern for this old chullo I posted about originally almost six years ago in “Old Beloved Brown Thing” …

Although I was taking my time, planning on making a collection from this chullo, today I realized it is an actual anniversary, a decade since I started designing, so I decided to pull this first one together and submit my modest work this late afternoon, to celebrate. Truly it is modest. It is a tribute work, not so much about my designing, merely my version of a vintage original, shown knit up in aran and dk weights. Later I will add to the pattern, but it is to be found on Ravelry over here — and it is only my interpretation of the original. I’m naming it “Patamanta” as it means ” from the top ” in Quechua, the native language where it was very likely made, perfectly named I think.

A felted pompom, trimmed a little wild, like I like it.

And it’s perch, a brindle colored beret, dries flat, also ever-so-slightly felted.

Looking forward to soon bringing pom pom, beret and gloves all together in a fully finished ensemble!

The last week of summer is upon us, and I am noticing the light relaxing into longer shadows at a slightly earlier time each day. I really feel that my beloved Autumn is near! There is the usual locomotive knitting going on, but in this last week of summer I am enjoying some humble little silly thing “on the needle”, something just to take my mind off of knitting for a little while, so that I can be rested creatively speaking. I started and quit several times in the last year, yet I could not quell an incessant nagging urge to make at least a good start at counted cross-stitch, but to do so I have first to get past the very uncomfortable sense of being a rank beginner, while I repeatedly wrestle an equal urge to give up. That itself is the real exercise here, to squeeze myself into that constricting humble place of being. This, I am convinced, should be good for me, although I really don’t have time or room in my life for another textile hobby. I’m fine with my wobbly mis-shapen X’s , its all good, its all stitching. Stitching of any kind is a mental health elixir I believe in.

I am really pleased my last days of summer have shifted into this peaceful mellowness, a fresh beginning, these first new humble stitches. Do enjoy your remaining days of summer !

The madrone trees are shedding again. It seems they do twice a year if my memory is correct, they burst out of their thin skin and deep russet peels land everywhere. Some are quite large scrolls!  I’ve been wanting to do this experiment for years upon years now, so finally I took a brief tour around the house with my stainless steel stock pot, collecting some, not sure how much.  I just filled the pot with cold water, and will just let the pot sit without lid out in the scorching hot sun of the deck, while I think about it and research how to properly dye with tree bark. Even only improperly , in case I am lacking anything for the dye bath. One thing for sure, it is not something I have to rush into in the next hour.  This is the post before I’ve dyed anything. I’m welcoming all kinds of advice from anybody who’s done natural dye from bark.  I don’t have any mordants, however I do have plenty of undyed yarn ready to dip!

I made a post a while back on the madrone as a colorway in Tweed Chronicles, and featured it in a post many years back too, which both do go into a little more depth about this beautiful tree. The wildire had killed off so many that surrounded our house, but the trees have a hopeful future as many of the new shoots that grew out from the base of the burned trees are now up to nearly 15 feet high, and in last post July Days, you can see them again through the window, and making their way back to trees again on the side of the deck.

Anyway, I should like to see a Part Two to this series, a future “after dying” post, but as things are now, this is undetermined. I am dreaming of a signature colorway from my own madrone woods, but not having too much expectation, I just hope this second attempt at dying with madrone bark works at all!

Edit in: Please see my post  Tweed Chronicles: Madrone

Savoring moments in my morning window space, knitting and enjoying a second beautiful cup of home-roasted coffee while mulling over the notes, the careful calculations, the charts drawn and redrawn a dozen or more times, sipping, sifting, filtering out the dregs of many half-starts, and deleting files. I am closer to the finish with the best work, in my opinion, of my designing ability.  Soldiering on through the pandemic days and the spring and summer months as the empty calendar pages flip, getting nearer to that time when it will simply be finished.  But I am taking my time. I am learning a lot about knitting sweater proportion, enjoying snatching up my calculator and changing up the numbers in a slight panic yet again, a thing which has become a little brain rush, but also am learning to keep the perspectives reasonable and stress minimal.   Its all a thing I love to do.

The volunteer vegetable garden is flourishing and I am stunned each and every day to see it, realizing that when the garden is least imposed upon it does its best magic! Volunteer squashes and tomatoes taking over , and watering with a sprinkler is attracting birds by the flocks!  So many robins, gold finches, and bluebirds have become like pets, more interested in bathing in the baths and foraging than to worry about me walking by too near ~~~  my little darlings!

The insects have dwindled as a result of having all these insect-munching birds around, and what garden pests? I don’t see a single one! Life among the birds and the happy garden, and because they are thriving, so am I thriving.  Not much is ripening yet, except the lettuce and leeks flowering , so of course, that explains the vase of flowering lettuces on table which I hope to save seed from.

My list of kitchen concoctions is growing in number, as I practice making with basic ingredients. The counter is sprawling with sprouting jars of alfalfa and winter wheat in various stages, soaking beans, yogurt setting up, and the oven is getting worked with all the loaves I am baking with hefty mix-ins of sprouted wheat grains. I got a hold of a five pound bag of raw organic peanuts and for the first time in my life am learning how to pan roast, and make peanut butter!  I often have for lunch some home-made hummus on home-made bread with a thick smear of home-made savory greek yogurt, and topped with a pile of home-grown alfalfa sprouts . . . paired with a tall glass of lemonade which is just a bunch of ever-so-thin lemon slices packed into the bottom of the glass, sweetened with a home-made ginger syrup I make from piloncillo and fresh root of ginger, a ton of ice, top off with water,  and voila! A lot of home-made.

I am going for walks more now, although short ones, as the trails are rather hemmed in by ever toppling  charcoal trees but I do get myself going up to witness the changing landscape.  Gone are the days when I could just walk up the ridge road to the peak and get in my three and a half steep miles. Those days will return, I just don’t know when, perhaps the next generation. So I walk a bit less, and work outside a lot more.  Walking barefoot all summer on sub-floors, not caring in the least that the finish floors are not done, just enjoying the house and the steady superb trim work that Jeff is doing, exactly as he had done on our original house. Oh! And that sprawling pile of building mess, lumber & tools which occupied the middle of the house and nearly hid the lower half of this post,  as of last week, is now gone! A massive aesthetic improvement to the house.

Lastly, I am finding that lots of little mini naps to defrag my brain is the best recipe for clear thinking, being endlessly enchanted by the calm space I’ve made in my loft just for naps, I find that it is improving my mental endurance in the day, especially getting up and out of bed at 5 o’clock every morning,  I think I’m about ready for one now.

Signing off with no complaints,  busy in the sheltering-in pandemic days, and life is good.

4:28 pm.

Drama in the sky!

4:38 pm.

Everything in the world is like the rolling churning weather,

clouds swiftly moving and reshaping.

4:48 pm.

We’re “sheltering in” at the hermitage in a war against corona virus,

surreal times,   I don’t have words.

4:58 pm.

I am worried for everybody, and feeling fidgety and nervous. Even knitting is difficult.  I had hoped to launch into something ultra designerly,  but instead I’ve spent two days patching threadbare clothes, hand-stitching, reinforcing shredded edges, and being ridiculously old-fashioned, and I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.  This too shall pass.

♥    ♥    ♥

Thank you everybody who left comment in the previous post Emma Was,

it really held me through a rough patch ~~ xx

It takes every bit of bravery I can manage to post this, and take a break from tears. She seemed to want to live forever, and we were so ready to let her, but she died peacefully last weekend, her daddy and me with her.  For nearly fifteen years her fur has lined the nests of generations of birds in this part of the mountain, and her memory does not escape the places we walked, they are forever etched along the landscape. Forever.

You can see  All Posts Emma  archived from the beginning of this blog.