Back in the saddle, I think.
I finished the first sleeve of the Grandson Sweater last night, except that a couple more rounds are needed on the facing at the top. The camera is inert -- pic tomorrow, assuming charging the battery puts it right.
Nancy Marchant’s “Knitting Brioche” has turned up. It is not without interest. I think if I were really as interested in knitting as I claim to be, I would get to grips with the whole Waffle Stitch family and figure out exactly what the yarn does and where it goes. How does Brioche differ from Fisherman’s Rib? I flipped through the comparable pages of Walker Volume I. Waffle Brioche (Walker I, p. 158) is a particularly attractive variation. I’m not sure yet whether it’s in Marchant or not.
Non-knit, Family and Garden Division.
Alexander sent me this.
His son James is a quiet, reflective child who doesn’t go in for talking, much, unless he has something to say. He certainly doesn’t seek the limelight. Nor does he hear much Scots spoken at home. I suspect this certificate represents a great triumph. (The Immortal Birthday is at the end of January, when we all eat haggis. This victory must derive from an associated event at school.)
This is a link to a page of pictures showing last summer’s newlyweds, Theo and Jenni, digging themselves out of DC’s recent snow.
Mel, thank you for the comforting words about our clematis (comment yesterday). Nature is indeed resourceful, and I certainly won’t give up on it for many months yet. In fact, it has a tendency, like its kind, to concentrate its flowering too much at the top. My husband keeps wanting me to cut it severely back. I haven’t done it, because I don’t think our sort of clematis likes that sort of thing. But now, perhaps, severe pruning has been forced upon us. I’ll keep you posted.
I made great progress with the seed order, while we were away.
Finally, Rachel recently spent an evening with an old friend. As soon as she opened the door, the friend exclaimed, not Hello, Rachel, how are you? But, That’s Elizabeth Zimmermann’s Surprise Jacket!
Rachel is no knitter, but had the presence of mind to remember the name and to tell her friend how we had driven along Mt Nod Road – not far from where Rachel lives -- looking for No. 21, where EZ spent some months with her aunties towards the end of the Great War. (Knitting Around, p. 27)