YARNOGAMY

Once, when I first began knitting, I'd work entire garments with a single yarn. Oh, how could I have stood inches and inches of relentless, same-fiber yarnogamy? I do recall spiffing things up a bit with cables, bobbles and other stitchery feats of daring-do but, really, ALL ONE YARN? 

That's all in my past now; I'm no longer yarnogamous. I've delighted in living with a single man for 30 years but such loyalty does not apply to yarn. No way. I play the field with complete abandon, jumping from yarn to yarn, changing partners by the minute, breathlessly waiting for the next. Shameless.

A Magic carpet vest takes flight on my desk...

So, it follows that my patterns appeal to similiar like-minded, lustful, knitters, doesn't it? Admit it, if you've found your way to my site, chances are you play the field, too. You want patterns that cater to your passions, a safe haven for fiber frolic, a place that allows you to channel your free-ranging creative energy into a veritable feast of fiber.  You've found a kindred spirit...

How do I love thee, let me count the rows...

DOCTOR, HEAL THYSELF

Stash and burning bush pose in the autumn light

Dear friends,

If you're a regular visitor to my journal you'll know that Dr. Jane (the face you can trust) has been researching Seasonal Stash Disorder. It is time now to state the obvious and admit that I, too, am so afflicted. No surprizes there, I suppose, but just in case you missed the signs, take a look at the evidence as displayed above:

One freshly-picked basket of yarn from my yarn foraging expedition in Maine. Halcyon Yarn in Bath sourced my Gemstone Silks plus a lovely 100% angora hand-dyed and woven in Peru that made me appreciate bunny in a whole new way. Plus, I visited Unique One and Stitchery Square in Camden and, though a little disappointed in the diminutive selection of yarns, nevertheless managed to leave suitably stash-stuffed.

But the biggest treat of all was meeting Karen Grover, proprietor of the soon-to-be-opened yarn shop and gallery, String Theory, in Blue Hill, Maine. Believe me, friends, this store will become a destination you'll not want to miss next time you travel down east. Not only will Karen be carrying my patterns, jewellry, finished knitwear and possibly kits ( a sign of good taste, surely?) but she dyes the most gorgeous yarns, including a silk & merino that won my heart. I'll be showing pictures later.

Meantime, click for the quiz that will determine if YOU have SSD:

OF MAGIC AT DUSK AND HOW KNITWEAR NEEDS HUMANS

Same view from the window but two weeks later and at dusk...

I love dusk. Dusk is when a soft light diffuses the hard edges of reality, buffs away the harshness, the bite and the grind, replacing all with a patina of magic. As the copper lights glowed across the garden, I could almost imagine myself stepping out the window into some fairy realm where fireflies dance as bees fiddle a tune.

EARTH TO JANE. All right, I'm back now. Can you tell I grew up on fairytales and write fantasy in my non-existent spare time? Okay, in the real world this very moment it's raining, raking the enflamed leaves from my ivy and sogging up the garden. But I am content. Rain is good. The wells need to fill up for the advent of winter. Plants need rain. Rain gives one a good excuse to stay home and write.

Do you recall a photo of 'Kimono Rising' draped across the back of my wagon wheel bench a post or two ago? Well here's the piece being modeled by Bonita at the Artisan Fashion Show and sale last weekend. This one piece, which really began as an experiment with untangling rectangles in shades of blue & green, turned out to be a big hit. The audience gasped when Bonita came out, jaunty in a piece of 'Take Your Hat Off's' feathery headwear and the kimono. Gasped! Bonita and I agreed that the gaspometer needle went right off the scale.

So, Bonita came over after the fashion show and laid claim to the piece. She loved it; it loved her. Kimono Rising swirled and draped and sung across her body with that kind of grace that makes the wearer feel special, blessed somehow, as if you could fly. Half of that magic is endowed by the wearer herself because, believe me, hanging on the rack or sitting on a table, Kimono Rising looks like a beached sea creature far from its life-giving element. Knitwear needs humans, that's all there is to it.

Speaking of which, here's a drawing of the Blue Skies Over Sienna sleeve. The sleeve needs an arm to bring it alive, no doubt about it, and I've had queries from potential cardigan knitters wondering what that sleeve looks like up close and personal.