The Indigo Road Hits the Trail

Mollie hits the trail in the traveller's vest

A side view of the Indigo Road Traveller's Vest

It occurred to me that the Indigo Road traveller's vest would benefit from being photographed worn on a body in daylight, preferably in some suitably picturesque locale on a suitable picturesque body (translation: not my steroid-puffed version). What more fitting location then a salty trail cutting across the salt flats of Nova Scotia? And, no, a warm day it wasn't. Don't let the lack of snow fool you. It still lurked in patches in the woods and along the edges of the marsh though spring flirted in the air, making us light-hearted (read: windblown to bits).

Mollie's teeth did not chatter while being photographed but I could tell she needed more coverage over her arms, so...out came a Seagrass  Capelet in blue. Note those of you working on this pattern now, that I made this version a little longer as a kind of test. I believe I still like the shorter versions best but you may like the extra two inches of length.

Later, while my husband and Mollie investigated migrating seabirds, Jane, armed with her trusty camera, kneeled down to photograph...ah, rosehips sihouetted against the sky? Silvery, molten marsh water curling in amid the salt grass? Yes to both. Meanwhile, I was half-listened to the seabird conversation while wondering if I had the exact shade of (frozen) rose hip red in my stash or whether I could duplicate that silvery blue in a scarf? And, could I knit a marsh, I wonder?

I am, I confess, a color addict. 

WHY I LOVE HAND-DYED YARN

The key word in hand-dyed is HAND. Hand-dyed yarn has been touched (bathed, dipped, plunged into the color bath) by a real live person. The subtle alchemy of the dyer's art flows from color to color, a shifting play of art and accident, as rare and special as colors brewed in nature. Where else can you find that fusion of intricate shades? In the picture above, the colors in Blue Heron's rayon Metallic (knits like silk) are in tune with the speckled jasper in the bracelet.

In hand dyed yarns, as in nature, it's rare to find two hanks exactly alike, so every time you buy a skein, you own something unique, something special. Sometimes you will even find a color so rare you swear it has never been seen before, that it's been created by some mix of chemistry and magic in the dyer's caudron just that once, rarely to be seen again.

And hand-dyed yarn cohabits so beautifully with specialty yarn (note: hereby I will never again use the term 'novelty yarn'. It conjeurs images of rancid green fun fur moldering around someone's neck. From now on, I will only use the term 'specialty yarns' because it's time these beauties were elevated to a little respect). No other type of yarn receives so much care in composition, so much creativity. Sure, there are beautiful wools out there-- gorgeous, luscious, sheepful yarns -- but specialty yarns draw on the yarn master's creativity, the yarn artists determined to give us interesting textures and stunning colors, often shot with bolts of light and luminosity, wit and twinkle. 

So buying hand dyed yarn is not an indulgence but a tribute to nature and buying specialty yarns a tribute to fiber art.

DREAMING IN MISTY MAUVES

Wisteria Wrap on my Beheaded Friend

Oh, I can feel spring in the air! Yesterday the geese flew over our house, announcing their return from southern climes with honking loud enough to match a New York traffic jam. John and I hugged each other in delight (we northerners get giddy after a long winter. It's pathetic, really, but all the little woodland critters are in the same mood. I see those squirrels chasing one another through the trees).

I'm only thinking spring things in my knitting these days, like the Wisteria shawl above, knit from a hank of Prism Wisteria 'Stuff' yarn and a spool of Hannah silk ribbon from Artemis (both now available from www.chezcas.com). It's a simple knitted triangle threaded with ribbon that will become my next free pattern as soon as I complete preparing the Watergarden and Knit-a-Beach shrug and Onyx& Amber wrap patterns for sale.

As I type, my paints are spread across the kitchen table with the arm of one shrug drifting dangerously close to the butter dish as I paint the texture map for one sleeve. A flock of crows just arrived demanding breakfast and the rattatatat of a downey woodpecker is punctuating their raucous calls.

Do you know I'm actually considering doing up kits for some of my designs? Crazy, I think, but not nearly as crazy as my thoughts of developing my own yarns, dyed exactly as I want them, to sell exclusively with my kits. SLOW DOWN, JANE! DON'T YOU HAVE ENOUGH ON THE GO?

PS: I'm home full time now after failing yet another attempt to return to work. This time I believe the laminator provoked my latest asthma attack though before that, I'd just swell every time I entered the building (Jane as Puff Mummy). Now I've officially given up: can't do buildings anymore. Call it a day, Jane. Admit defeat. Go home and knit. So, here I am: knitting, painting and waiting for spring.