Stitched Together

A Cure for Creative Drain?

With my work on hiatus at the animation studio, one would think that I have copious and unlimited amounts of time in which to create my own art again.  I should be at my animation table pushing frames and puppets, sculpting maquettes or props for a new project or constructing armatures from wire and foam.  I could be standing at my easel for hours painting or on the floor with my pastels making beautiful new images for a small local gallery. A list of creative and financial problems pile up when I get started.  So... I turn to this for solace:

 

(Toirneach Kilt Hose knit in Lion Brand Fisherman's Wool, color: Oatmeal)

Or this:

 

(creativeyarn's Handwarmers in Caron's Naturally Spa, color: Naturally)

Wedding knitting.  Wrapping the legs or wrists of my friends in wooly love for their special day.  When Sean and I were married almost four years ago, none of our best friends or acquaintances were even in relationships.  Now they are all catching up and getting married at once.  I still have one belated wedding gift to get on the needles, a pair of Leyburn Socks in Koigu KPM for the wife of kilt hose recipient.  

When I run out of brides and grooms in need of my lovely handmade gifting, there are always babies.  My husband's family is of the Irish Catholic variety.  We can't count up his cousins without making a list.  Really.  Since my relations are constantly breeding, and their brood then breed, I have to pick and choose which babies can realistically get knitted gifts.  This year's lucky baby is Callum.

 

The Marcus Slipover from Rowan's The Milk Cotton Baby Collection, using the suggested yarn.  I have finished all but the side seams and the ribbing around the neck and arm holes.  I dislike finishing so it's been on hold for a few weeks.  I knit 3-6 months larger than the age of the baby in case I run in to trouble with finishing motivation.  (This should be a real, classified disease of the knitter.)  This adorable vest will go with Sean when he heads home to Florida for Thanksgiving and should be a real treat for him to wear through the spring.

Behold, the power of gift knitting!  It is already November so the winter holiday gift creation band wagon has begun.  My front closet is full of yarn, fat quarters and fabrics to be given to loved ones.  What are you knitting/crocheting/sewing for gifts this year?  

Cheers, Sara

Orange you glad it's autumn?

There has been crispness to the L.A. air this week.  The dry smell of the wind now carries a scent of leaves and cold.  Autumn in northern Florida included more leaves falling but the air never truly changed its scent until winter had arrived.  I am still getting accustomed to the dry heat and cold of the desert.  I definitely don't miss the wet, sticky cold in the humid winters back home.  I love autumn all around.  Having lived in only two states so far, both claiming to be the Sunshine State, I have never had a real, white winter at home.  I've seen plenty of snow in my travels but living with it is an entirely different animal.  Autumn, though... this season just gets me. It is chock full of rich colors.  Orange has been following me around for two weeks now.

In the local pumpkin patch...

In the kitchen...

On my windows...

 

 

On my kitties and husband, too.

 

I have to simulate beautiful leaves falling in my yard by placing sticky decals on my sliding glass door. The leaf stickers were a nice addition this year; even the cats love them!  (Seamus is the first kitty, the one trying to eat a leaf.  Satchmo, his brother, is staring at the leaves from Sean's lap.)  Sean's hair is just an added bonus.  I wonder what other colors will stalk me this week.

On an unrelated note, I am proud to say that I have started a sock this week.

While this is typically not remarkable, this sock is special.  I knit its mate nearly two years ago.  Yeah... talk about serious Second Sock Syndrome.  I often passed this yummy Cherry Tree Hill yarn when pillaging the stash but something just held me back.  The yarn is truly a dream, maybe I was just waiting until the moment I needed to knit something so delicious and simple.

Maybe it will save me from drowning in orange.  I really can't pull off the color...

Love, Sara

California Dreamin'

All the leaves are green, and the sky is grey.  Los Angeles is melancholic with crisp wind blowing on another autumn day.  Since transplanting in southern California four years ago, I have not seen a single true autumn.  Los Angeles is supposed to rain and replenish the soils after hot summers full of drought and fires, to drain the ash and acid rain with mudslides.  Instead of rain, the clouds hang around listlessly, mucking up photography and taunting vegetables still ripening on the vine.  'It's still warm, why aren't you growing?  Oh, you need some sun light?  Hmm, I'm busy watching the traffic at a stand still on the 405."

 

I get emotionally attached to inanimate objects.  Just being honest.  I feel bad for my poor tomatoes, green beans and bell peppers that have been playing a game of 'Red Light/Green Light' with their environment since July.  My plants look pitiful after dealing with temperature shifts of 30-40 degrees within a day, the winds from the Santa Anas and the clouds that simply cannot make up their minds.  

So many fruits are growing and awaiting their opportunity to shine.  Meanwhile, I watch and wait and tend to my plants, calculating when (and if) I will be able to harvest enough at one time to make a full batch of fresh cherry tomato pasta.  The fall chill will sneak up for a few days in the low 50s before shooting back up to the 90s.  'Should I hold on to my seeds or continue growing?' So confused.

 

All in all, bad as I may feel for my plants in their grey dome, I am proud they they have turned out very well.  I started all of my current vegetables from wee seedlings given as gifts for my birthday in July or as cuttings from friends' plants.  They all got a late start but have kicked right along.  I have eaten fresh green beans by the handful, added fresh cherry tomatoes to salads weekly and have made batches of green cilantro sauce and many a caprese salad and sandwich from my massive basil bush.  I had to hack my herbs last week so they didn't try to move in to the flat with us.  (Rent money would have been nice, though.)  I had to banish my cucumber plant from the garden entirely because it was taking over; it moved to northern California.  Want to know the most remarkable thing about these green leaves amongst all this grey weather?  

They are all growing on the banister of my balcony.  In L.A.  I am amazed and inspired by Mother Nature yet again.

Love, Sara