David went off on a business trip to Orlando a few weeks ago, but all was forgiven when he came home with this wonderful Dale of Norway cardigan for me, in my favorite Setesdal "lice" pattern, from the Norway Pavilion at Epcot.
It isn't actually black, but a beautiful charcoal grey with white hairs throughout, very subtle.
And of course, the inside, because we're knitters —
I was happily rereading Patrick O'Brian's first novel of Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin's adventures, as one does, when with one of those curious leaps one's mind occasionally makes, I thought, "I'd like a bit of lace around my neck."
Hence, the "Sophie" scarf. I've had this Filatura di Crosa wool in the drawer for an age, and thought now that it would make an interesting lace, sturdy and delicate at the same time. It reminded me of Jack's first ship, which causes a number of raised eyebrows in the book due to her modest and homely looks — "the little small squat merchantman with two masts?" as Stephen inelegantly puts it — but which Jack loves dearly. The lace is not a flashy one, but comfortable, like the Sophie herself, who "spread her wings more like an unhurried dove than an eager hawk" (ch.2).
The lace patterns, from Nancie Wiseman’s Lace From the Attic (Interweave Press,
1998) are easily memorized and worked — I liked the way they went together so easily, the echo of the edging's holes in the main pattern.
The pattern is available here.
"Jack let her pay off until the flurry was over, and then, as he began to bring her back, his hands strong on the spokes, so he came into direct contact with the living essence of the sloop: the vibration beneath his palm, something between a sound and a
flow, came straight up from her rudder, and it joined with the innumerable rhythms, the creak and humming of her hull and rigging. The keen clear wind swept in on his left cheek, and as he bore on the helm so the Sophie answered, quicker and more nervous than he expected. Closer and closer to the wind. They were all staring up and forward: at last, in spite of the fiddle-tight bowline, the foretopgallantsail shivered, and Jack eased off. ‘East by north, a half north,’ he observed with satisfaction" (Master and Commander, ch.2).
I have been knitting — a little — witness the Ravenclaw scarf finished in December and worn quite a lot since then!
I doubled the length of the fringe as specified in the pattern — it seems to match the generous length of the scarf a little better.
And this, wh. is taking up rather a lot of my knitting interest these days — the “Vest for a Fiancé” from Inger Fredholm’s Knitting With a Smile. I didn’t have the wherewithal to send to Sweden for the wool, so I’m using Smart from my local yarn shop. I have a few quibbles with the pattern, but it’s so very cheerful that I really don’t mind at all.
And listening to the Boswell Sisters, who really swing —
VIOLA. What country, friends, is this?
CAPTAIN. This is Illyria, lady.
VIOLA. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drown'd. — What think you, sailors?
The Captain (Michael Ching) and Viola (Carrie Kawa) arrive in Illyria in this 2007 TheatreWorks production of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" at the Lucie Stern Theatre in Palo Alto.
I always said that the reason I joined the show choir in my community college was to do this number. That wasn’t quite true, as we also did summer tours of Eastern Europe and Scandinavia in the year and a half I was in the group — but I think that "Favorite Son" from "The Will Rogers Follies" was the pop number I looked forward to most. (Our poor choreographer must have watched this clip from the Broadway production a thousand times, but it was worth every second, as we did exactly the same choreography, with tambourine hats. I was on the end, stage right.) Very difficult, but worth it — so much sheer fun!
Thought this was appropriate for the present election season — but oh, if only Will was still around!
Good heavens, I’d almost forgotten how to log in to TypePad!
So what have I been doing, you ask, these long months? Very little knitting, I’m afraid — two pairs of socks finished, one of which was actually started in January. Now I am plugging away at half-finished projects, a row at a time, apparently — Vintage Velvet (wh. for some reason leaves me quite indifferent lately), a Muriwai Bathmat, a Harry Potter scarf in the Ravenclaw colors, not counting the projects that I found under the sofa cushions and stuffed back with a shudder. I am, however, chain-reading fiction, racing through Joanna Trollope (loved The Men and the Girls), Anita Brookner (until I froze from the chilliness), Kristin Lavransdatter in the Tiina Nunnally translation (miles better than the old one, remind me to expound on this some time), and so many others that suited my fervid fancy at the time that my mind begins to boggle. I suppose I don’t need to explain that I now have two children in school all day.
The Father-in-Law socks, finished at last, during the Summer Olympics. I was so excited by Michael Phelps‘ races that despite working exactly the same number of rows on the second sock, it came out noticeably smaller than the first.
This is Jitterbug in "Blue Parrot" — a quite apt name, I think. Vivid isn’t in it. The socks are presently residing in Laura’s sock drawer until cooler weather. And still unmodelled.
We went camping at Lake Tahoe at the end of August with a passle of cousins. They had just taken the kids down to the beach when we had our first visitor. This was the baby bear — mama came back in the middle of the night to rattle the Dumpster. I actually did not know that a Dumpster could be so very loud.
Am also deep into choir rehearsals, what with our first concert of the season at the end of October. We are doing, among other things, Benjamin Britten’s "Hymn to St. Cecilia" with the small choir, and Monteverdi’s "Beatus Vir" and Charles Ives’ "Psalm 90" with the big group. The Britten is lovely and strange, set to a poem by W.H. Auden, and the Monteverdi is just as wonderful as the first time I sang it years ago, and doubtless as wonderful as it was in 1630. The Ives is seriously weird — if you don’t believe me, look at this —
Why the sopranos got off so easily, I don’t know. Man, that’s a lot of notes. And no help from the orchestra, either.
Tone clusters, Blue Parrots — I’m seeing an unexpected connection, here, all of a sudden ….
Cut to the icehut at Framheim, circa 1911. All the occupants are Norwegian polar explorers – Wisting, Bjaaland, Johansen, Prestrud, Stubberud, Hassel. Amundsen and Helmer Hanssen enter – downwards (on wires).
Amundsen Morning.
Lindstrøm (the cook) Morning.
Amundsen What have you got, then?
Lindstrøm Well there’s egg and penguin; egg, skua and penguin; egg and seal; egg, penguin and seal; egg, penguin, skua and seal; seal, penguin, skua and seal; seal, egg, seal, seal, penguin and seal; seal, seal, seal, egg and seal; seal, seal, seal, seal, seal, seal, baked beans, seal, seal, seal and seal; or lutefisk aux crevettes with a gjetost sauce garnished with truffle pâté, aquavit and a fried egg on top and seal.
Helmer Hanssen Have you got anything without seal in it?
Lindstrøm Well, there’s seal, egg, skua and seal. That’s not got much seal in it.
Helmer Hanssen I don’t want any seal.
Amundsen Why can’t he have egg, penguin, seal and skua?
Helmer Hanssen That’s got seal in it!
Amundsen Not as much as seal, egg, skua and seal.
Helmer Hanssen Look, could I have egg, penguin, seal and skua without the seal?
Lindstrøm Uuuuuuggggh!
Helmer Hanssen What d’you mean uuugggh! I don’t like seal.
Norwegians (singing) Seal, seal, seal, seal, seal … seal, seal, seal, seal, seal … lovely seal, wonderful seal …
Brief stock shot of the Fram.
Lindstrøm (to the Norwegians) Shut up. Shut up! Shut up! (to Hanssen) You can’t have egg, penguin, seal and skua without the seal.
Helmer Hanssen Why not?
Lindstrøm No, it wouldn’t be egg, penguin, seal and skua, would it.
Helmer Hanssen I don’t like seal!
Amundsen Don’t make a fuss, Helmer. I’ll have your seal. I love it. I’m having seal, seal, seal, seal, seal …
Norwegians (singing) Seal, seal, seal, seal, seal …
Amundsen … baked beans and seal.
Lindstrøm Baked beans are off.
Amundsen Well, can I have seal instead?
Lindstrøm You mean seal, seal, seal, seal, seal, seal, seal, seal, seal and seal?
Amundsen Yes.
Lindstrøm Arrggh!
Norwegians … lovely seal, wonderful seal
Lindstrøm Shut up! Shut up! (but it is too late and the Norwegians drown his words)
Norwegians (exuberantly) Seal seal seal seal. Lovely seal! Wonderful seal! Seal se-e-e-e-e-e-al seal se-e-e-e-e-al seal. Lovely seal! Lovely seal! Lovely seal! Lovely seal! Lovely seal! Seal seal seal seal!
Exeunt.
(The moral of this post is, of course, never watch Monty Python videos after a late night of reading about Norwegians at the South Pole. Unless you like that sort of thing.)
Knitting, reading, other stuff.
