There was just something about the light that day, that made me feel as if summer was really going to end- that autumn was to begin, at last. There was just a golden, painterly quality to the light, I think.
I took a few pictures.
23 September, 2009
There Are Days That Remain In Memory
They aren't always special days. But occassionally, there are days that just, well, stick. Summer is fading (although the temperatures aren't dropping) and I am dreaming of fall. I ate lunch recently at Rutabegorz, in Tustin.
There was just something about the light that day, that made me feel as if summer was really going to end- that autumn was to begin, at last. There was just a golden, painterly quality to the light, I think.
I took a few pictures.
There was just something about the light that day, that made me feel as if summer was really going to end- that autumn was to begin, at last. There was just a golden, painterly quality to the light, I think.
I took a few pictures.
18 September, 2009
The February Lady, In Tweed.
I am knitting this sweater for me. I am setting aside the (irrational) knitter’s guilt over making anything for oneself and I am selfishly making myself one February Lady Sweater based on the design by Flint Knits, in Knit Picks City Tweed. The colorway I chose is Orca. I love this yarn- it is so soft and the little Donegal nups are making this one of my all time favorite yarns to work with. The sweater is squishy and lovely and I really can’t wait to finish it and to wear it.
There is one obstacle in my way.
I live in Southern California and it’s September. What this means, practically, is that it is regularly over 90 degrees here. It will probably continue to be over 90 degrees here for the next month and a half. I am knitting the second arm of this sweater, so I have a lap that is full of sweater. Did I mention it has been in the 90's?
Our vague “seasons” in Southern California are often lazy and they show up late, so that wonderful murmur of winter in the wind that knitters know signals sweater weather doesn’t always show up until after Halloween. Our fall sometimes seems to begin at Thanksgiving, and many of my Christmases have been celebrated wearing shorts and flip flops.
Winter, to me, is actually almost Spring. Cold weather here is usually present from February to April, if at all. My February Lady is therefore appropriately named, as well as hotly anticipated.
Because I am so anxious to have this complete, I am sweating while knitting. I am knitting a tweed February Lady sweater in July, in August, and in September. I am knitting at the beach, allowing a little sand to be worked into my knitting. I am hoping this February sweater will hold the memory of this summer, tucked within the fiber. The hint of sand, the little bit of sweat and the above all the sunshine from this summer will be knitted into the very fabric of this sweater.
When February comes, as it always does, I hope that I will slip this wonderful tweedy Lady over my shoulders and I will remember the sensation of warm sand, slipping between my toes. I will remember my daughters’ laughter as they build castles in the shade of our beach umbrella. I will remember the delicious smell of coconut scented sunscreen, the sour-sweet taste of lemonade, and of the sensation of saltwater drying on warm skin. I will remember the sound of waves lapping at the shore, the white of sails against the blue of summer’s sky and I will remember the warmth of days spent with the people I love....
...when I wear my February Lady Sweater, in tweed.
There is one obstacle in my way.
I live in Southern California and it’s September. What this means, practically, is that it is regularly over 90 degrees here. It will probably continue to be over 90 degrees here for the next month and a half. I am knitting the second arm of this sweater, so I have a lap that is full of sweater. Did I mention it has been in the 90's?
Our vague “seasons” in Southern California are often lazy and they show up late, so that wonderful murmur of winter in the wind that knitters know signals sweater weather doesn’t always show up until after Halloween. Our fall sometimes seems to begin at Thanksgiving, and many of my Christmases have been celebrated wearing shorts and flip flops.
Winter, to me, is actually almost Spring. Cold weather here is usually present from February to April, if at all. My February Lady is therefore appropriately named, as well as hotly anticipated.
Because I am so anxious to have this complete, I am sweating while knitting. I am knitting a tweed February Lady sweater in July, in August, and in September. I am knitting at the beach, allowing a little sand to be worked into my knitting. I am hoping this February sweater will hold the memory of this summer, tucked within the fiber. The hint of sand, the little bit of sweat and the above all the sunshine from this summer will be knitted into the very fabric of this sweater.
When February comes, as it always does, I hope that I will slip this wonderful tweedy Lady over my shoulders and I will remember the sensation of warm sand, slipping between my toes. I will remember my daughters’ laughter as they build castles in the shade of our beach umbrella. I will remember the delicious smell of coconut scented sunscreen, the sour-sweet taste of lemonade, and of the sensation of saltwater drying on warm skin. I will remember the sound of waves lapping at the shore, the white of sails against the blue of summer’s sky and I will remember the warmth of days spent with the people I love....
...when I wear my February Lady Sweater, in tweed.
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