knitting stories | autumn calling....

{pattern} | {the evolution of claire} | {yarn}

I'm heirloom leaves falling. Adorable pumpkin woods candles burning bold (well tonight, it's Marshmallow Musk). Hocus Pocus playing on a loop. Old Episodes of Boy Meets World (Shawn and Angela all the way). Storybrooke and Sleepy Hollow. Cider. Even the word cider sends that tart, spiced comfort down my bones. I cannot get enough of pining for Autumn. It has been a sweltering, humid mess over the last week or so, and all I've been doing is blasting my air conditioning, donning my comfy Jurassic World sweatshirt, and watching as allllll of the autumn folk begin to creep out of their thickets. The deal was sealed when I raced to Michaels earlier this week in search of evidence, and sure enough, wide crates full of huge white pumpkins were displayed in all of their festive glory! I've really tried to be good, but if I'm truthful, my Fall antennae begin to tingle around April.

As I watch my Fall Haul/Autumn Routine Youtube playlists, I long for strolls through Tarrytown, and a perfectly bright burnished leaf to press in my journal. I'm ready to go a little crazy with Pumpkin Pie Spiced seasoning. A new Fall mug, because...hello? And my knitter bug is buzzing. Throughout the year, I experience knitting ebbs and flows, but I think as time carries us back toward a crisp chill, my fingers itch for something plush and delicious! I really want to complete the perfect sweater for Autumn. Ever since I began my last sweater, I have been on a mission to complete one that I will truly cherish. With my first sweater, I decided on making it short sleeved, however, as soon as I bound off, I knew it was a bad idea. While that sweater is on hiatus, I stumbled upon the Wool & Honey pattern designed by Drea Renee Knits. I only needed a moments glance at her gorgeous honeycomb-inspired, ember colored jumper to know it would be the perfect knitting adventure to set out on. Brooklyn Tweed Loft yarn feels very wooly and has a rustic look to it, giving it such handmade charm.

I love the meandering stage of knitting, where I can see myself wearing it, going about my dailies, stopping by the Strand, spiced tea in the rain, adventures between covers with Claire and a Brachiosaurus named Pearl. I can't get enough of those dreamy images. I started knitting my pumpkin colored fancy today on the bus, and I've given myself a goal to try and finish this by mid-September. Fueled by any number of Autumn scented candle now popping up in stores, I'll try my darnedest to make it happen. I think I'll document this like I did with my Katniss cowl back in the day. That makes me feel at home. I can't believe it's been 4 years since I began my knitting journey. So surreal. A great reminder that the years we're blessed with are filled with so many serendipitous catalysts.

Knitting Stories | Forest Green and Cocoa

It's October 1st, and there's finally a granny smith crispness about the air...even if that's only going to last for a couple of days. My frosted votive of Hot Cocoa and Cream is burning, and it's surprisingly delightful. It's preparing my senses for Holiday festivities and I'm so excited for Christmas! I'm watching a charming indie film called "Between Notes" starring my newest musical discovery (and crush, because who am I kidding), David Ramirez. All my life, I've never been able to write any worthwhile stories without music, and this man has whipped my writing lattice windows right open. There's a vulnerable honesty about him that encourages me to write my stories in the same raw manner. 

My apartment is chilly, and I'm knitting a scarf.

The last few months have seen a knitting cacophony of massive Autumn shawls, and hats hats hats for my family. Every year since I started, I've knit my dad a hat, and I wanted to extend the cozy goodness to others around me. I wish I could knit a few a week to hand out to people. Well, if I had the courage to walk up to strangers with a hand knit hat in the chilly afternoon. But in the midst of all of these projects, I've been craving a simple scarf. The kind you learn when you pick up your first pair of knitting needles, Wool Ease Thick and Quick plush between your fingers. I think Autumn has this way about it that makes me want to go back to the basics. No bells and whistles. I think about all of the first scarves, or socks, or hats out there, all simplistic and stumbled through, but the love saturated there is priceless. Many of those objects still loved on after years and much weathering.

My scarf is knit with Petite Wool in a deep forest green. When I'm writing a story, I like to surround myself with as many significant details as I can, and Forest Green is a key character color. I'm knitting it in large blocks of garter and seed stitch for a little something 'pizzazzy'. I'm hoping to finish it by December, but I think I'm purposely taking a long time on it. This scarf feels like a handwritten diary scribbled over time, each loop and stitch reading like a 'Who-What-Where-When' of my life. Something to look back on and remember. I'm thinking I'll store it with with a sachet of something pretty.  Maybe Hot Cocoa and Cream or Marshmallow Fireside because who doesn't want to wrap something around them that smells like Christmas?

The Holiday knitting frenzy approaches, but I hope that in the midst of all of your projects, you knit at least one thing for yourself and someone else that you don't have to think too much about, because you're too busy thinking of how wonderful it feels to be hugged.

knitting stories | a shawl for autumn No. 1

Summer's sun has reached its highest point in New York City skies, but my mind has switched over to burnished amber trees and fog curling through leaves. It always comes in Spring, while everyone else is planning summer escapes, all I can think of are the numbered days between this one and the first day of Fall. I'm ready for cozy reads, Once Upon a Time, spiced lattes and teas in bottomless mugs, for the skies to undulate in waves as The Civil Wars lilts enchanting with soft plush fibers wrapped around my shoulders.

Sometime last year, I reached the point as a knitter where I begun to dream in shawls. At first, I could never have pictured myself wanting to knit a shawl for the time and the tedium. But suddenly, I adored them for the stories woven in with time, for slow techniques, for the thought of having a portable blanket to wrap around my shoulders. I'll admit, however, that shawls of lace and sock weights are incredibly time consuming and I found myself drifting towards other projects after long. Soon after, I discovered Jess Gagnon's Tenmile Shawl knit in a chunky worsted/aran weight yarn, and I've been in love! 

Tenmile is a shawl inspired by keeping warm during the winter months, and it was one of the first shawls I discovered worked in a chunkier weight. It looked so soft that my fingers itched to knit one of my own. This shawl led me to the wonder that is Malabrigo Worsted, a brand of yarn harvested in Uruguay. I can't say enough about this yarn. It's luscious to the touch, and fueled by so many gorgeous colorways that come alive in garments like waves. I chose the colorway, Roanoke, a gorgeous brown inspired by a character I've been writing from the end of the 19th century (and I might be a little enchanted by the lost colony of the same name). I wanted my first shawl to be neutral enough to be paired with anything.

I decided to become "semi-monogamous", splitting my time between this shawl and another I'm determined to have finished by October. The weight makes it more of a reality that I'll finish it up by then. I definitely recommend this pattern for a beginner/intermediate knitter, as it requires knowledge of Make One Left / Right, Knitting and Purling. Thankfully, it does not require knowledge of lacework or slipped stitches (because then this would be an entirely different post!). This would be good for someone wanting to knit their first shawl, learn beginner shawl techniques, and be rewarded with a garment in no time!

I can't wait to cast off on Tenmile, block it (my first time blocking anything!), and take it with me on afternoon strolls through Sleepy Hollow, or bustling across Museum Mile towards Central Park. Until then, I simply luxuriate in the satisfying weight of it as a single strand of yarn becomes this almost living breathing thing. Something romantic enough to holding stories, and practical enough to keep me cozy.

Autumn hearts, be glad. Fallen leaves are coming soon!

Knitting Stories | On Shawls

Over the past month, I've taken on the adventure of knitting a shawl. A serendipitous find that fell right into place. It's for my Mom. Her birthday is today, and although it won't be finished in time, it already feels like her. I never expected to knit a shawl. Ever. As I perused patterns, they always seemed entirely too intricate with a weight too akin to lace for my tastes, or patience, if I'm being honest. But of course, a Brontë would lead me to it, and inspired by a novel, I can endeavor most challenges.

Over the last month, I've come to realize that yarn and color choice are very important in a shawl. With memories and affections twined in each stitch, the time it takes is roused by the feeling of silky yarn with a striking shade, solid or gradient. If you imbue the entire experience with feeling before hand, it serves as great incentive to carry it through. Whether it's thoughts of your own Autumn adventures, how the color or pattern will bring a little portable magic to the person you're giving it to, a practical need to keep warm during the winter months, or a new way to present the "something old" of bygone romance during a wedding.

Shawls seem to carry with them a great deal of romance. Whilst knitting mine, I've been reading (and watching--swooning--over Richard Armitage) North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, watching Jane Eyre, and writing a story set within the 19th Century, pondering the significance of this accessory in the time period. Shawls stand out to me as both practical and delicately feminine, able to keep one warm, whilst adding a touch of elegance to your daily wardrobe. Many seem to take on the ethereal quality of a butterfly's wing, as if it could tear with the slightest of grazings. I hold the musing that I would be draping historical romance over my shoulders. 

Knitting prayers and well wishes for my mom into this shawl, I noted that this most feels like I'm knitting something weighted with significance. It feels like a heirloom, especially now that it's more tangible than a few rows of stitches. Like I'm united with generations of women knitting these to keep their girls warm, to adorn a new bride or mother, a small luxury from fibers spun by hand. 

I've decided to knit  a wedding shawl for myself one day. Sooner rather than later. It seems the kind of thing you knit your dreams into.

Knitting Stories | Agnes

{source}

Meet Marlee. I discovered her story of knitting her first sweater on her blog "Have Company" whilst reading Quince & Co.'s post on the knit along for their sweater pattern: Agnes. They've dubbed it the newbie sweater to try out. Looking at their Puffin range of yarn, specifically in the color "shell" makes me super excited to learn. Who wouldn't want to experience the glory of donning a sweater that you knit all on your own. Gosh, sounds lovely! 

But the fact is...it's a sweater. I can find my way around a cabled shawl, or a blanket, or even a Katniss cowl. I've also knit up a little clutch bag once. But a sweater seems so daunting...it involves swatching and picking up stitches (a concept that scares me). Yet, I'm still intrigued by the thought of trying it, maybe as a summer project. Sweaters seem to me like blankets. There's so much time and patience and effort put into it. The very time it takes to knit sewn into every stitch. A first sweater may even feel like the cherry on top of a sumptuous mint chocolate chip ice cream sundae--imbued with your courage to start, the hasty stitches you had to rip out, times you persisted, times you took a break. And then, with it's imperfect silver linings, you'll imbue it with your day to day, your Sunday afternoon walks, dinner with friends, the grind.  

Marlee's chronicle of knitting her first sweater is informative, hilarious, and inspiring. The prospect of an Agnes knit along is also pretty awesome...who's with me?

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