A Sunday Afternoon Walk by the river

It was a beautiful sunny day today, a day that demanded a walk outside in the cool crisp spring air, a day to head for the river and wander the paths.  Mind you, those river paths are treacherously icy right now with  daytime thawing that morphs into nighttime freezing.  Under the thin layer of the last light snowfall earlier this week, glare ice lurks, waiting to catch the unwary and send them sprawling.  Even surefooted Libby had her work cut out for her staying on all four of her feet in some areas.  But it was worth it, worth every slip and slide, just to be out breathing the fresh air, and enjoy the unfettered exuberance of the border collie flying over the paths, rolling in the snow, dipping in the frigid river water, sliding on the icy shore and chasing her boomerang down the path.  Spring is here, the snow is melting.  And if you are a border collie, life doesn't get any better than this.

Socks

 I am thinking about socks a lot these days.  I will be at Stash Needle Art Lounge (see them here) in April to teach the fine art of knitting handmade socks.  I'm really looking forward to teaching again.  And socks are great fun to knit - they are small portable projects, great for taking on trips to keep yourself amused in airport lounges and hotel rooms and even on road trips - if you are in the passenger seat. 

Nancy Bush in her wonderful book “Folk Socks – The history and techniques of handknitted footwear, says  that “no human apparel has been more taken for granted than the sock”, and I think this is very true. 

   We pull on our socks, shove our suitably covered feet into our shoes, boots or runners, and jump to our feet, ready to go.  When the heels and toes wear out, get holes in them, become thin – they are pitched into the garbage without a thought.  Socks are disposable.   Socks can have a sad life, and yet…

What if that sock is handmade, knitted with soft yarn specifically measured for your foot?  What if those measurements have been taken, colours chosen,  construction begun, not just once but twice, because you can’t run on one sock, and the brand new handmade pair of cozy socks is carefully presented to you in love – what then?.   That would “knock your socks off” wouldn’t it? 

 Let’s “pull our socks up” and think about socks in an entire different way.  

Some of the first socks were found, surprisingly intact, in Egyptian tombs. Look at the photo of these ancient socks in Mary Thomas's book, which apparently were dyed red, knit in a woman's size, and they have a split  toe to accomodate the wearer's sandals.

 In her 1938 book “Mary Thomas’s Knitting Book she pegs the beginnings of knitting  in 

Arabia then brought to Egypt  and spread to Europe along the trade routes,  probably back as far as the 3^rd century.  But no one knows for sure when the penny dropped and the first knitted sock was born. 

This gorgeous painting of the Virgin Mary, entitled "The Visit of the Angels" is by the Master Bertram and thought to be painted between 1390 and 1400. It was originally in the Buxtehuder Abbey in Europe.  Notice Mary is knitting a garment on four needles! 

I suppose none of this matters much, unless you happen to enjoy wearing hand knit socks, or like to knit them. Socks are pretty much constructed in the same way today as they have been since the beginning - knit in the round on a set of 4 or 5 needles with points at both ends.

First the stitches are cast on, then divided onto four needles, and then joined up, looking like a square, the stitches carried on four needles, knit using the fifth needle making a tube. Knit from the top to the toe, socks are divided into 4 sections, first the leg - the straight tube,, then the heel flap, short rows to turn the heel and make a joint in the tube, then knitting the foot from the heel to the toe and rounding the toe off to finish.

One of the products that helped propel sock knitting into the 21^st century, is computer dyed yarn, those lovely yarns that when knitted in the round make their own fair isle, or striped pattern.  The problem with these yarns is that they are addicting.  Its past midnight but you can’t quit until you see what colour is going to turn up next and what pattern it will make in the sock. 

Vancouver Island watercolour artist Nell Anderson painted the sock knitting chicken for me a few years ago.

it makes me smile every time I look at it.  Celebrate the sock and have warm feet.

My week

In this world of sparkly white snow, amazing blue skys and temperatures just above freezing, I find myself longing for colour and spring blossoms.

But instead I am seeing this

I have to admit there is a certain austere beauty in this icicle

I'm quite impressed by mother nature at times.

However, that doesn't lessen the longing for spring, warm temperatures, and growing things.  I'm not alone here.  There is a sort of cabin fever that sets in around here this time of year.  The book shop is full of gardening books, the seed displays are showing up at the grocery store. I've seen a few brave souls in shorts and tee shirts although that is stretching the point I think.   

Even our bunnies and Libby the intrepid border collie are getting a tad restless

They chase each other all over the great room downstairs. Well...they chase, Libby herds them.  It seems to amuse them.  It certainly amuses me as I sit working on my sock and watching films.  I'm getting ready to teach a sock class at a wonderful little yarn shop(this one) next month which should be great fun.  If you're interested in learning the fine art of sock knitting, check out Veronica's website and schedule and sign up. 

And that was my week. 

 Snow started around 6 a.m. this morning.  It was predicted.  We were warned.  Yesterday the grocery store was an absolute madhouse as people rushed to stock up.
When Libby and I walked this morning it looked like this

Not too bad really, a bit slippery underfoot, but quite pretty. 

Then mother nature got serious about the whole thing.

And it turned into a dandy blizzard complete with north winds swirling the snow up, down and sideways, shaking the trees around and covering the back garden.  Visibility has shrunk and the end of the world is the back garden gate

There is very little colour left in this little world now.  There is the fierce beauty of the white snow covering everything and turning familiar objects into something else entirely.  For instance, those plant pots, and that broom, even the garden chair has changed personality.

Apparently this is to continue all day and into this evening.  There will be quite a lot of digging out once the storm has passed.