Northern Lights Shawl

Many many moons ago, when Darling Daughter was just a small person (she will be 39 in a couple of weeks!) I fell in love with some yarn by Novita, it was called Brazil, and had rainbows in the mohair mix. I just had to buy it, but had no idea of what to knit with it and, as I was rather short of money in those days, didn’t really buy enough for anything, just 7 balls. There were four colours, black, a blue green, golden oranges and a soft cream. They were tucked away, along with many other yarns, in my stash, and have been through five house moves since then. 

Last year I had the pleasure of cruising up the Norwegian coast with Stitchtopia. As with all their trips there was a project involved, in this case a cowl, inspired by the Northern Lights. Our knitting tutor bought some suitably colourful wool with her to make up our project packs but, a key word there ..... it was wool. A cowl fits snugly round the neck, that is the point, and my skin gets a bit excitable when it is snuggled up against pure wool, so sadly that project was abandoned, but not the concept.

Around Christmas time I saw a wonderful shawl, knitted by a friend, which sparked further ideas. Very simple to knit, involving mitred squares which gradually built up to a large triangle, I realised this might embody those Northern Lights, which so thrilled me at 5am on the prow of our ship in the Norwegian Sea.

The project was begun, each square would have flashes of an alternate colour creating zigzags of greens, purples and golds to simulate those fugitive but wonderful displays. The dark came first, for the night sky, 

then the soft greeny blue of the Arctic nights when the sun fails to rise at all, and the rich golds of the sun itself, the source of those particles, blown by solar winds into our atmosphere. It would finish with a row of cream to remind me of the beautiful snowy Norwegian coastline we sailed past each day.

I realised part way in that I still didn’t have quite enough yarn, so there was much weighing and recording of what it took to complete each square. Further secondary yarns were bought in, would I manage to finish and keep the concept alive?

I also realised that, as well as the Northern Lights, I was knitting the autumn colours of my garden

I’m very glad to say I managed to make those yarns last. The shawl was finished this week. It is as wide as our sofa, goes down my back to the base of my spine, and keeps me beautifully warm as Autumn approaches. And I can arrange it around myself in such a way that the top stands away from my neck, so no tickly, itchy, spine shivering from that mohair!

I hope you like it too, and have enjoyed the story of its making.

A stitching update

 I’m sorry for my absence, our life together has been overtaken with difficulty just now; living has taken on a new priority, and my dearest heart is quite unwell, so we are going along quietly together. In the in between times I am still stitching where I can. 

My most recent project was to create a hanging for his bedroom from some delicious African fabrics I bought years ago with him in mind. He recently asked for someting to replace a lovely old family portrait of his great grandfather as a little boy in Regency frock. Little Arthur has returned to a house he previously lived in, much to the delight of the house owner. The result was this; some giraffes, which are an old private symbol between us, African fabrics, because he grew up in Africa, and three little four patches, composed from fabrics I used in his three great grandchildren’s quilts, so they are with him in spirit. It is another little “story quilt” with fabric links which means something to us. 

Having completed that, I needed something new to work on, or perhaps something in progress to mover further on. You will remember this series from here, here and here.

I am hoping to begin the next phase with this piece of cloth, more gleanings from that first quilt, and not quite as pale as it appears here.

I have cobbled it together with Jude’s Glue Stitch, a regular web of tiny stitches and long intervals which creates a single piece of cloth from several little bits, all held down on a base cloth, here calico. It leaves a little grid of tiny stitches on the front, but they get subsumed by embroidery, and it is a much nicer cloth to stitch on than if you bonded them down with adhesive webbing, however fine.

I think the three pieces will sit rather well together when finished

I am taking  another Stitchtopia trip in a week’s time, just eight days, and my dear heart’s daughter will take care of him while I am away. We will be knitting in the Faroe Islands, and I will be meeting up with a few previous fellow travellers, so much to look forward to, but I will also be spending time in airports, so wanted something to take along to stitch. I’m hoping this will work. 

Christmas "gods"

For the past several Christmases I have done a small bit of seasonal appropriate hand stitching.

This is the latest to join the throng 

which includes: a slightly plaintive looking Santa

and a jolly Christmas tree

A bit kitsch I know. They are all part of a printed sheet of fabric ready to cut out and stitch together; Memories of Christmas Past, produced by Cranston Print Works. These were acquired from a Canadian quilting shop in 1986 when I was pregnant with my lovely girl. They have a right to be kitsch, they've waited a long time to come into being!!

They are joined by this little fabric angel; rather modest, slightly dumpy but with a spark of mischief in that curl of hair above her forehead. She comes from Aunt Cecil, and epitomises that dear little soul, boldly carrying her star into life.

You'll gather we don't "restyle" Christmas every year, just add to its history. They are folk hovering close by, linked by little pieces of the past which bring that soul to life in a special way at this time of year. 

I was listening to the Carols From Kings on Christmas eve and ruminating on how, in my youth and teenagehood, I sat on the floor while Mum and Ganna sat in our two sitting room chairs. Together we enjoyed those same words and gloriously resonant voices soaring in that same historic space. They have been singing in my heart for all those years. 

Seasonal music and textiles, linking loved souls in time and memory. All part of the theme of the dying and resurrection of the year each Solstice, the human need for hope expressed long before the advent of Christmas.