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    Here is Elizabeth Zimmermann's justly famous Moebius ring, to the pattern in Knitting Around, in about 2 1/2 balls of RYC Cashsoft DK in white, worked as a gift for an elderly friend who remarked recently about the chill in her upstairs room, in snowy Bristol.  "Aha!" I thought to myself.

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    I gussied up the I-cord edge with a little bit of faggotting (or is it technically only a column of eyelets?), by working a K2tog, yo at the end of each row in the garter-stitch section. This had the very satisfying effect of looking pretty much exactly as I had hoped it would, setting off the I-cord just a little.  I regret to say, though, that I did not have the brains to figure out how to graft it, so it is not as invisible a join as I would have liked, but it's finished and off to its recipient.

    The finished size is 15 in. x 10 in., when laid out as in the photo below.  Wasn't sure how big to make it, but thought I should err on the larger side, rather than the smaller.  It does tend to leave the neck a touch bare when draped artfully, but there it is — it could also, as EZ  points out, be laid flat against one's chest, thereby providing a double-layer of warmth.

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    I read an interesting review of Sebastian Faulks' A Possible Life recently,

    9780805097306_custom-4c62d03167efabf4e70d6e0f44026309599b6a0e-s6-c10

    and was pleasantly surprised to find that my local public library has it.  (They do not seem particularly interested in fiction, I regret to say, though I must confess that I myself was not either until a few years ago.)  It is unfortunate that Faulks' book comes on the heels of Cloud Atlas, which in its structure of different stories in different voices it resembles very much.  Faulks' stories are much more independent, though — a certain block of flats, a plaster statue, and so on, are the only links between them, bar of course the common themes of humanity, love, and the complexities of our relationships with each other.  Mitchell's ability to create unique and amazingly disparate voices is what impressed me most about Cloud Atlas, and Faulks has some of this too, though not quite so dramatically — his one piece set in the US is narrated by an Englishman, and I had to wonder why (except that it is said somewhere to be based on the relationship between Joni Mitchell and Graham Nash).  The problem, I think, with this format — like with Cloud Atlas — is that perhaps inevitably there will be parts that a reader will relate to far more (or far less) than others.  As with Cloud Atlas, I was bored by the story set in the 1970s, and was completely absorbed in the Victorian one.  This of course makes the whole book feel more than a little uneven.

    In other news, Mary Lou was wondering a while ago — well, it was more than a few months, I guess — about a stain on a piece of cross-stitch her mother had worked.  This is the first cross-stitch I ever worked —

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    and I didn't realize that what I thought was a clean hand (blush) was not, and that holding it in the same place for hours on end left yellowish stains on the canvas.  This disappointed me so much that I rolled it up and left it to knock about in various cupboards and boxes since then (thirty years!).  I found it again last autumn, and thought I might as well try anything as it was unlikely that I'd mount the thing with long yellowish streaks across the corner.

    I started out gently, as one does, with laundry detergent, graduating to stain removers, nothing worked — then I thought, "oh, well," and poured bleach straight on it.  This worked pretty well, in fact, and didn't fade the colors of the embroidery floss at all.  I ended up doing this twice, and re-blocking.  You can still see a hint of stain in some lights, but it was good enough to frame at last.

    I'm not sure I would recommend such a drastic measure with something really valuable, but I was impressed that this floss came through so beautifully.  Aaron Bros. framed the piece very nicely for me, too.

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  • 0082

    Spring is not quite here yet, not even in Southern California, but we are alreading thinking about it.  These are "Mary Rose," "Sharifa Asma," and "Commandant Beaurepaire". I have hankered after "Mary Rose" unreservedly for some years, dreaming of its lovely rose-pink petals and "delicious fragrance of Old Rose character, with a hint of honey and almond blossom".  "Sharifa Asma" was I confess a rather impulsive buy, as the photos are gorgeous but it can be rather sensitive, I hear — we'll see. I was utterly charmed by some photographs I saw recently of "Commandant Beaurepaire," an old Bourbon rose — I had rather wanted "Rosa mundi" but could not find it to hand, and I had left it late in the season to order — but I have great hopes.

    I do not expect particularly much from this,

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    which I bought at Tuesday Morning yesterday for $6.99 (marked down from $14).  It is Wisdom Yarns' Marathon Socks Seattle, in "Seattle Fifth". Not my usual colors, but it seemed to suit my mood of hopeful expectancy, in this burst of spring-like weather.

    A little madness in the Spring
    Is wholesome even for the King,
    But God be with the Clown —
    Who ponders this tremendous scene —
    This whole Experiment of Green —
    As if it were his own!

    Emily Dickinson

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    When I saw the "Muffatees for Miss Pole" by Mary Lycan in the preview for the January/February issue of Piecework, I was filled with a longing to knit them.  The fact that they are adapted from a period pattern and are named for a character in the delightful "Cranford" series only added to their charm for me.

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    These muffatees are worked in Appleton's crewel wool in no less than seven shades of rose pink, which I received very efficiently and cheerfully from Wool and Hoop —

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    — and are worked on size 000 needles (1.5mm), I think — because I don't have a needle gauge that goes that small!  (I had bought a packet of Boye steel "sock needles", four sets from 1.5 to 2.25mm mixed together, and had to peer closely for some time to decide which was which.)  It was rather strange, knitting with crewel wool; it is finer even than sock yarn, but the Appleton's at least is very springy, so that it does knit up pretty well.

    I usually like tiny, fiddly crafts, and for the most part I enjoyed both
    this pattern and the scale, but I'm glad that it was a small project
    and quickly done.  The needles are small, the wool is small — and prone
    to splitting — I had to wear my extra-strong reading glasses simply to
    see what I was doing the whole time.

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    The only change I made in the pattern was very minor, casting off exclusively in purl instead of alternating at the tops of the ribs, as I don't much like that "chain" across the top from the knit-wise bind-off.  As it happens, the ruffle curled enough that I don't think it really matters which is used.  I don't think I really needed to use two needles to get a loose cast-on, either — I used the Old Norwegian long-tail cast-on, and it probably would have been all right done with one needle.

    I realized after joining the second shade of wool that I could simply splice in each new shade pretty much anywhere in the given round and it would hardly show, because each new shade was so similar to the last.  I alternated placing the splices either some ways before the beginning of the pattern round or some ways after it, so that the splices didn't "stack up".

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    It was very amusing to see the ruffle, having been splayed out around the four needles during knitting, ruffle itself as I cast off.

    The modern pattern advises using a spice bottle to block the muffatee — obviously you don't want to flatten out the ruffle unecessarily.  I tried a number of different objects from the kitchen cupboard — Spice Island jars fit pretty well, but I felt a little dubious about putting wet wool on the paper label, for fear that something might transfer, ink or at the least paper gunk — Morton Bassett's paper-labelless jars would have been all right, but seemed a bit big, and I didn't want to stretch out the rib at all, not knowing how the crewel wool would behave.  This is what I ended up with —

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    This pattern is originally from Jane Gaugain's The Knitter's Friend of 1846.  A muffatee (or as Mrs. Gaugain has it, muffetee) in its strictest definition is a step up from the simpler wrist-warmer, in that while being a plain tube it also has a thumb hole, so this particular one is perhaps not a muffatee as such, but this is a minor cavil as the ruffle certainly lends an air of elegance beyond the common sort (!).

    Here is the original pattern, handsomely digitized for the Richard Rutt collection by the kind folks at the University of Southampton:

    Frilled muffetee 1

    Frilled muffetee 2

    I haven't worked historical patterns from the original yet; our modern abbreviations seem a bit more obvious, but Mrs. Gaugain's are quite clear with her helpful key.  P = knit ("plain").  B = purl ("back").  O = yarn over.  OB = yo purl-wise ("by casting the thread quite round the wire").

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    The ruffle is very generous, which I think is not quite so obvious in the Piecework photographs.  In person it quite reminds me of an Elizabethan neck ruff.  Binding off that many stitches was tiresome in the extreme, but as I was of course watching "Cranford" while I knitted, this was not as much of a bother as it might have been.

    I did run out of the last shade of wool barely halfway through the bind-off of the second muffatee, so knitter beware.  Fortunately, the next-to-last shade was almost indistinguishable, so I finished the bind-off with that, but of course I would much rather have been able to splice it in the body of the knitting — I regret to say that I could not face picking it out to do this, not at this tiny scale.

    The crewel wool is, by the way, rather itchy, so I would not advise it for someone who is especially sensitive to wool.

    Of course, these being the Muffatees for Miss Pole, this is the perfect opportunity to do another instalment of my "Knitting in the Movies" series, and look at the knits in "Cranford", that wonderful adaptation of Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford books.  All of the pictures below are publicity photos except perhaps the second, but all are quite large, so you can click on them to see in great detail.

    Cranford ladies 2

    Mrs. Jamieson (Barbara Flynn), Miss Matilda Jenkyns (Judi Dench), Mrs. Forrester (Julia McKenzie), Miss Pole (Imelda Staunton), and Miss Tomkinson (Deborah Findlay), beautifully set off by the puffs of steam coming, one supposes, from the dreadful new steam engine.  Mrs. Forrester is wearing a garter-stitch shawl, a simple triangle with a knitted-in ruffle.  All of the ladies except Mrs. Jamieson — who has no need to make knitted objects, of course — are wearing mitts.  (Note that all of these have a single opening for the fingers and an open tube for the thumb, which I am assuming are more strictly mitts than muffatees.)  Miss Mattie has a very pretty pair with eyelet diamonds around the hand; Mrs. Forrester a pair in some kind of fancy rib, decorated with a little bow of ribbon; Miss Pole's are (perhaps unsurprisingly) rather fussy, with a band of eyelets at the wrist and garter bands now and then across the wide rib; Miss Tomkinson's appear to be in a brioche stitch with a band of ribbing to nip them in at the wrist, and are garnished with a little tassel.

    Cranford 3

    Miss Mattie, Mary Smith (Lisa Dillon), and Miss Jenkyns (Eileen Atkins).  Here is a more detailed picture of Miss Mattie's pretty mitts.  Miss Jenkyns is also wearing a pair — much simpler than her sister's, one suspects — but with what appears to be a surprisingly frivolous tassel.

    Cranford 4

    Miss Mattie, Mrs. Forrester, Miss Tomkinson, and Miss Pole, in somewhat finer weather than before, but still all equipped with their knitted mitts.

    Cranford_ladies

    From the second series, "Return to Cranford," Lady Glenmire (Celia Imrie), Mrs. Jamieson, Miss Pole, Miss Tomkinson, Miss Mattie, Mary Smith, and Mrs. Forrester, just out of church, it seems.  Miss Mattie is wearing her knitted shawl, a rather smaller version of Mrs. Forrester's in grey wool; you can see here that Mrs. Forrester's is long enough to wrap around her waist and pin in the back, where Miss Mattie's is short enough for the ends to hang in front rather like a tippet.  Miss Pole, Miss Mattie, and Mrs. Forrester wear their knitted mitts; Miss Tomkinson probably does as well, though her hands cannot be seen here.

  • Cloud_atlas_book_cover_01

    After reading an intriguing article on the making of the new-ish "Cloud Atlas" movie in the Los Angeles Times, I put my name on the waiting list for the book at the public library, and as that list was very long, I have only just got around to reading the novel by David Mitchell.

    I must admit that my head whirled more than a little as I read this, and did not really stop even after I finished.  I was impressed by the different voices Mitchell put on, how Adam Ewing's section sounded like an early-Victorian American and Robert Frobisher's like a 1930s aesthete, and how Luisa Rey's section sounded like a 1970s television drama and Sonmi-451's like a dystopian cautionary tale even though neither of those two things were anything that I would have been at all likely to pick up on their own.  I appreciated the philosophical points that Mitchell made, and was carried along by most of the stories — although I thought that Luisa Rey's and Timothy Cavendish's dragged more than a little for me — but my appreciation of Mitchell's fluid prose took an unexpected tumble towards the end, when I came across no less than three examples of subjective and objective "hypercorrection".  Alas, I did not make a note to myself of the specific wording, but it was those "John and me went to the store" kind of things, two instances at least by characters who certainly should have known better.  I find this even more jarring than I used to, and I'm afraid that it really jolted me out of the story.

    Tutankhamen

    I read this pretty much all in one sitting.  Tyldesley has written numerous biographies of ancient Egyptians, and her prose is very accessible without losing her air of scholarship, although I don't think this book has anything new to say about Tutankhamen and his family, but instead provides a capable account of both Tutankhamen's life and the discovery of his tomb by Howard Carter and the aftermath of that momentous event, in a compilation of current research and theories.  I could have wished that there was much less about the so-called "curse", though, to which Tyldesley devotes an entire section of her book.

    44ScotlandStreet

    I picked up The Importance of Being Seven at Costco a month or so ago.  I must admit that at the time I had not read many of McCall Smith's books except the Isabel Dalhousie series and the one-off La's Orchestra Saves the World, but I have really enjoyed both of those, finding McCall Smith one of those gentle, undemanding, lightly humorous writers that one turns to for a pleasant, comfortable read.  I saw an interview with him somewhere in which he said something like, "Some people complain that nothing much ever happens in my books.  I think that there is enough happening in the world today!" which amused me greatly and really does describe his books, certainly the Isabel Dalhousie series, up to a point.  I really like the way that Isabel goes about her life as best she can yet occasionally — for she is a philosopher — goes off on these mental tangents.  Why does such-and-such happen? why do we do the things we do? and then life breaks back in and she comes back to earth, as it were.

    So I thought, "right, well, I enjoy the Isabel Dalhousie books, I should read something else of his," even though I found myself for some peculiar reason putting off starting any of the other series.  (Why do I do this?…)  Of course, this sixth book of the "44 Scotland Street" series is also charming and gently humorous and filled with interesting characters and philosophical musings now and then, so much that I went to the library the moment I'd finished it and borrowed the previous five volumes and read them in about a week. 

    Episode of sparrows

    Laura got this for her birthday.  Unfortunately, she is absorbed in horror stories at present, and isn't interested at all in gentle stories of lonely children in bombed-out London or in gardens, but I read it for the first time the other day and loved it.  I don't think I've read much Rumer Godden — only (curiously, because I was probably about twelve at the time) In This House of Brede in the Readers' Digest Condensed version, wh. I remember being very moved by.  The story in An Episode of Sparrows doesn't seem much like something a child might want to read, and even as I read it I thought that it would take an extraordinary child to appreciate it these days, but the writing is beautiful and rather elegaic, and the characters are vivid and for the most part marvellously unstereotypical.

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    As for the more literal use of the title of this post, I spent a few weeks knitting up a skein of Pagewood Farms' Denali, which has haunted my stash for some time, into the Amala Triangle from the Spring 2012 Knit.Wear magazine, which would have been quite lovely had there been enough yardage in the skein to work the thing full-size.  I could have taken out a bit of the garter stitch section and finished the border, but the smaller size would have grieved me too much, I think.  Who wants a poky shoulder scarf?

    By the way, here is a fairly blatant example of why you should not be impatient and rip out a stalled project and go straight into the next one without un-kinking the wool.  Just about halfway up in this photo, you can see where I got to the end of the kinked wool and the start of the "new" bit.  Well, it's all in a sodden hank on my back porch now, gently relaxing and almost ready for something else.

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    Jaywalkers in Sensations Truly sock yarn, which I got at Jo-Ann's.  Would have been nice, except that I made them too big.  Have started over again, but seem to have lost interest for the time being.

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    And my Invercargill scarf, which to my dismay curls mercilessly.  I did not "help" it any for this photo.  I really dislike that in a scarf, and realized after pushing it aside any number of times as I looked for something to wear, that I really should accept the inevitable and make something that I actually would use.  Yoga socks, perhaps?

  • "See, Amid the Winter's Snow" performed by the Choir of St Paul's Cathedral .

    See, amid the winter's snow,
    Born for us on Earth below,
    See, the tender Lamb appears,
    Promised from eternal years.

    Hail, thou ever blessed morn,
    Hail redemption's happy dawn,
    Sing through all Jerusalem,
    Christ is born in Bethlehem.

    Lo, within a manger lies
    He who built the starry skies;
    He who, throned in height sublime,
    Sits among the cherubim.

    Say, ye holy shepherds, say,
    What your joyful news today;
    Wherefore have ye left your sheep
    On the lonely mountain steep?

    "As we watched at dead of night,
    Lo, we saw a wondrous light:
    Angels singing 'Peace On Earth'
    Told us of the Saviour's birth."

    Sacred Infant, all divine,
    What a tender love was Thine,
    Thus to come from highest bliss
    Down to such a world as this.

    Teach, O teach us, Holy Child,
    By Thy face so meek and mild,
    Teach us to resemble Thee,
    In Thy sweet humility.

  • "In Dulci Jubilo" performed by Melisma, Belfast.

    The text of this version:

    In dulci jubilo,

    Let us our homage show!


    Our heart's joy reclineth

    In praesepio;

    And like a bright star shineth

    Matris in gremio.
    Alpha es et O!

    O Jesu parvule

    I yearn for thee alway


    Keep me, I beseech

    O puer optime

    My prayer, let it reach thee

    O princeps gloriae
    Trahe me post te.

    O patris caritas
    O nati lenitas

    Deeply were we stainèd

    Per nostra crimina

    But thou has for us gainèd

    Coelorum gaudia

    Oh that we were there!

    Ubi sunt gaudia

    In any place but there


    There are angels singing

    Nova cantica

    And there the bells are ringing

    In regis curia

    Oh that we were there!

  • "Up Good Christen Folk and Listen" performed by King's College Choir, Cambridge.

    Ding-dong, ding,
    Ding-a-dong-a-ding,
    Ding-dong, ding-dong,
    Ding-a-dong-ding.

    Up! good Christen folk, and listen
    How the merry church bells ring,
    And from steeple
    Bid good people

    Come adore the new-born King.

    Tell the story how from glory
    God came down at Christmastide,
    Bringing gladness,
    Chasing sadness,

    Show'ring blessings far and wide.

    Born of mother, blest o'er other,
    Ex Maria Virgine,
    In a stable
    ('tis no fable),
    Christus natus hodie.

    Ding-dong, ding,
    Ding-a-dong-a-ding,
    Ding-dong, ding-dong,
    Ding-a-dong-ding.

  • "Quelle est Cette Odeur Agréable?" performed by the Umeå Studentchoir.

    Quelle est cette odeur agréable,
    Bergers, qui ravit tous nos sens?
    S'exhale t'il rien de semblable
    Au milieu des fleurs du printemps?
    Quelle est cette odeur agréable
    Bergers, qui ravit tous nos sens?

    Mais quelle éclatante lumière
    Dans la nuit vient frapper nos yeux
    L'astre de jour, dans sa carrière,
    Futil jamais si radieux!
    Mais quelle éclatante lumière
    Dans la nuit vient frapper nos yeux.

    A Bethléem, dans une crêche
    Il vient de vous naitre-un Sauveur
    Allons, que rien ne vous empâche
    D'adorer votre redémpteur
    A Bethléem, dans une crêche,
    Il vient de vous naître-un Sauveur.

  • "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" performed by the Choir of Christchurch Cathedral, Dublin.

    God rest ye merry, gentlemen,
    Let nothing you dismay,
    For Jesus Christ our Saviour
    Was born upon this day,
    To save us all from Satan's power
    When we were gone astray:
    O tidings of comfort and joy,
    comfort and joy,
    O tidings of comfort and joy.

    From God our heavenly Father
    A blessed angel came,
    And unto certain shepherds
    Brought tidings of the same,
    How that in Bethlehem was born
    The Son of God by name:
    O tidings of comfort and joy.

    The shepherds at those tidings
    Rejoiced much in mind,
    And left their flocks a-feeding
    In tempest, storm and wind,
    And went to Bethlehem straightway,
    This blessed Babe to find:
    O tidings of comfort and joy.

    But when to Bethlehem they came,
    Whereat this Infant lay,
    They found Him in a manger,
    Where oxen feed on hay;
    His mother Mary kneeling,
    Unto the Lord did pray:
    O tidings of comfort and joy.

    Now to the Lord sing praises,
    All you within this place,
    And with true love and brotherhood
    Each other now embrace;
    This holy tide of Christmas
    All other doth deface:
    O tidings of comfort and joy.

  • The second part of Benjamin Britten's "Ceremony of Carols," performed by the Antioch Chamber Ensemble.

    The texts:

    8. Interlude (harp solo)

    9. In Freezing Winter Night

    Behold, a silly tender babe, in freezing winter night,
    In homely manger trembling lies. Alas, a piteous sight!
    The inns are full; no man will yield This little pilgrim bed.
    But forced he is with silly beasts in crib to shroud his head.
    This stable is a Prince's court, this crib his chair of State;
    The beasts are parcel of his pomp, the wooden dish his plate.
    The persons in that poor attire His royal liveries wear;
    The Prince himself is come from heaven; This pomp is prized there.
    With joy approach, O Christian wight, Do homage to thy King,
    And highly praise his humble pomp, wich he from Heaven doth bring.

    10. Spring Carol

    Pleasure it is to hear iwis, the Birdes sing,
    The deer in the dale, the sheep in the vale, the corn springing.
    God's purveyance for sustenance, It is for man, it is for man.
    Then we always to give him praise, And thank him than.

    11. Deo Gracias

    Deo gracias! Deo gracias!
    Adam lay ibounden, bounden in a bond;
    Four thousand winter thought he not to long.
    Deo gracias! Deo gracias!
    And all was for an appil, an appil that he tok,
    As clerkes finden written in their book.
    Deo gracias! Deo gracias!
    Ne had the appil take ben, the appil take ben,
    Ne hadde never our lady a ben hevene quene.
    Blessed be the time that appil take was.
    Therefore we moun singen.
    Deo gracias! Deo gracias! Deo gracias! Deo gracias!

    12. Recessional

    Hodie Christus natus est:
    hodie Salvator apparuit:
    hodie in terra canunt angeli:
    laetantur archangeli:
    hodie exsultant justi dicentes:
    Gloria in excelsis Deo.
    Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!