The Ravenous Raven: Local on the Road

We are traveling today--and here's our local meal for the road:



Sandwiches:
Hummus from Olive Tree (Takoma Park, MD)
Bread from Spring Mill Bakery (Bethesda, MD)
Lettuce from our garden



We also took some peaches from our CSA. The sandwiches are packed in reusable wraps that we love. They serve as not only a wrap but a little plate. Very civilized. We also packed water in our Klean Kanteens, an reusable alternative to plastic water bottles.

Tour Update

Although there is quite a bit of time left in Le Tour de Fleece, I have almost finished spinning the bag of unidentified wool. I have enjoyed sitting at the wheel every day, even if it was just for a few moments, and watching the colors change as the wool passes through my fingers.

Can you see the bottom half of a drawing in pink on the window ledge? It is the place-marker board Son made for me. A sheep on a bike has to climb a mountain and then come down to finish the race. You can see a person cheering at the finish line. I am getting close to the bottom.

The yarn is much thinner than I expected it to be. And unlike my usual spinning up to now, it is UNDERTWISTED rather than overtwisted. Perhaps it is time to change to my faster whorl.

The colors are incredible. My neutral-color personality is somewhere between shocked and joyous that I'm allowing myself to enjoy this experience so intensely.

Knitting: Complexity and Dependability

For years and years, I knitted the most basic items: plain seed stitch scarves, simple drop-shoulder sweaters, perhaps the odd horizontal stripe. Although I had years of knitting experience, I had no interest in staring at a pattern for every stitch I had to make. I wanted knitting to do at conferences, knitting to do while studying in the library, stitches to make while reading subtitles.

When my son was little, everything changed.

When I was writing my dissertation, everything changed.

So which is it? Kid or book?

Book first. I wanted a challenge that would completely absorb me when I walked away from the dissertation. I craved not background knitting but stitches that would not allow me to stay in my frantic academic mindset. The academic in me still needs something that brings out my perfectionist streak just as much as writing does--just so ALL of that streak doesn't get put on the writing.

Change story.

I sat next to my child, too young to play interactively but old enough that he was happy playing with me nearby. I could not read on the couch, for that took me too far away from him. As I discovered, I could knit--knit and watch him play, knit and sing, knit and tell stories. When I could be silent and just be present, I felt the need to knit small little complex things. And I wanted to knit things that would appeal to my son.

And so I began to learn to knit little toys. I started with the bear in Kids Knitting. Seaching for more patterns, I found Toy Knits, Teddy Bears, and World of Knitted Toys. Now there is Knitted Toys and The Knitted Teddy Bear. Although the patterns were not always obvious, they were well explained. The knitted pieces were small and usually had extremely short rows. A row counter allowed me to free my mind of counting larger sections.

Quite recently I've begun challenging myself more. Now that my dissertation is long finished and its book is published--and a second manuscript is at the publishers--I have the drive to make larger projects.

I cast on. I start my first cables, my first lace.... At first I rip it out again and again, wondering how anyone ever does this stuff. And then, after a repeat or two, suddenly my eyes open and I see how amazingly obvious it all is, how regular, how symmetrical. The knitting tells you what to do next. The chart starts seeming superfluous!

And then I get to the edging, or the button band, or...

Don't get me wrong. I very much do not have to make deliberate mistakes since my knitting is always full of them, no matter how easy or obvious the pattern may begin to seem to me. But errors when we deeply understand are so much more fascinating than errors when we feel like we are faking it all the time. When we make mistakes at things we want desparately to learn to do, we feel embarrassed and disappointed. When we get it but make errors anyway, it teaches us more about the flaw of our perfectionism and the need for acceptance.

So here I am, now at the end of Chart 2 of Icarus and loving the lace--and feeling, somewhere between joy and relief and disapointment, that I KNOW how to do this. The knitting is showing me. "You see that little right-side purl? Keep doing it, even on the wrong side. See that fan-like feather? Make it widen by one stitch on each side as you progress.")

I guess it is weird that I am surprised by this regularity, over and over. Is it only true of well-written patterns? As I begin to design my own pieces, will I have to work the essential simplicity in, or does it happen naturally?

Now the real question: will I find this peace in colorwork? Yikes!

Lace and Veggies

My still-in-progress Pi Shawl makes a perfect market bag:









Other lace posts:
1, 2, 3, 4

The Deliberate Mistake

When I was a child, I fell asleep under a quilt handstitched with appliques of little dolls on a bed of yellow ginham and green twill. In one quadrant of the coverlet there was a odd square of pink chintz, a piece of cloth that violated the incredible artisanry of every tiny matched stitch, every well-ordered block. If that quilt had not had that strange and obvious error, I might have slept under it for years without ever realizing that the quilt was handmade. As it was, I fingered that garrish piece nightly, contemplated the sewing of the quilt and imagined a its history, wondering what its maker was thinking when she interrupted the quilt's perfection. Surely she didn't stitch in the pink square without realizing that it could never pass as correct. Surely the patch was a deliberate mistake.

This quilter's decision to put a deliberate mistake into her work unites her with countless other artisans from around the world. The makers of those meticulous Persian carpets made obvious errors in their rugs to show that noone was perfect except Allah. Some people believe that the Gods might be angry about arrogance of a human effort to produce a work of art without imperfection. Navajos thought evil spirits could escape only through an error in art.

Some people question the truth of the idea of the deliberate mistake. For example, one source quotes an interviewer who suggests that Amish quilters, often believed to use the deliberate mistake in order to prove they were not prideful, actually believe that "an intentional error is saying just the opposite--that their work is perfect and that they would have to be purposeful in order to make mistakes." Another analyst suggests that quilters, when asked about the concept, uniformly reply, "I make enough mistakes without making them on purpose." Wouldn't it be more arrogant to believe that one has to make a deliberate mistake in order for the quilt to be imperfect?

I did not need to make my mistake deliberately, but I did have to make a commitment to keep it in my knitting. I tried first to correct it--and proceeded to screw it up a bit more. I could have ripped out a couple of rows--but I did not. Learning to live with my mistakes occasionally helps me break my perfectionist streak and its stranglehold over my productivity. It is this mistake that separates my Icarus from the zillions of other Icari appearing all over blogland and the Stitch-n-Bitch Universe. It is these little mistakes we make that remind me that our works are made with our hands, our hearts.

The Ravenous Raven: This Week's Local Dinner

Soft Tacos:
Steak strips from Smith Meadows bought at our local farmer's market
Shitake Mushrooms from Calvert's Gift Farm, bought at the farmer's market
Spring onions from our CSA, Linking Creek Bend Farm
Garlic from our CSA
Tomatoes from Hummingbird Farms, bought at our local food co-op
Corn Tortillas from Moctec in Hyattsville, MD, bought at our local food co-op

Salad:
Assorted lettuces from our CSA
Fresh peas from Musachio Produce Farm, bought at the farmer's market

Beer: Hook and Ladder in Silver Spring, MD


Dessert:
Blueberries and blackberries Musachio Produce Farm, bought at the farmer's market

Le Tour de Fleece

I am spinning away in Le Tour de Fleece this month. What a great idea. A perfect combination. (Every time I mention my spinning wheel, people assume I mean some fancy excercise bike. They must marvel when they look at my figure and try to reconcile it with the fact that I spin almost every day.)

My goal is to turn this:


into this:


and finish the bag of fleece by the end of the race. So far, so good. Initially I wanted to learn to Navajo (or chain) ply it, but the yarn is protesting and stating that it would very much like to stay as singles. Since I believe in child-led learning yarn-led spinning, I am following.

I bought this fleece at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival very inexpensively (as in less than $3) a couple of years ago to use on my little pipe-cleaner dolls. But now that I spin, I've found that it spins up beautifully. I'm not sure what kind of wool it is. There is about 4 ounces--not a big challenge but since I am going to be out of town for part of the race and am also trying to finish a knitting project--as well as being a spinning newbie--I think it will be enough. Wish me luck!

Le Maillot Jaune! Le Maillot Jaune!

Icarus

I am FINALLY a couple of rows from the beginning of the lace charts in Icarus! And I am cheating--cutting out a whole repeat of chart A in order to make a smaller shawl. Sigh. It has still taken forEVER to get here....

When I first started the project, I thought the simplicity and regularity of the lace up until the last few inches was a huge advantage--and I suppose it is in many ways. I'm relatively new to lace and was happy to have this gentle introduction. I thought it would be interesting enough to hold my attention but mindless enough that I could knit in social gatherings and at meetings.

After knitting the chart A the first time, the pattern was ingrained in my blood and I did not have to think about it at all. And the pattern calls for the knitter to repeat that chart 5 more times, more and more stitches on the needle every row.

So "mindless" it certainly became--in a way. Unfortunately, the little tiny cobwebby yarn (I am using Lacey Lamb), the small needles (size 3), and the slippery needles the same color as my yarn (Addi Turbos--a really stupid choice here, although I love the needles for other projects) add up to a mindless project that requires a ridiculous amount of concentration. Others in blogland (from A to Y, at least--any Z blogs knitting Icarus?) have been talking about this same thing.

But now, after almost losing my wings to the melt-your-brain heat of the oh-so-regular pattern, I am on the verge of the lace feathers! Oh joy! Oh rapture! Oh freedom to soar!

Peace March

Yesterday morning we rolled out of bed, drenched in sweat despite having the fans blowing directly at us all night. We swam through the humid air as we headed downstairs. We filled a backpack with bottles of cold water and walked about six blocks uphill to get to the line-up for the 117th Takoma Park Independence Day Parade.

Our family marched with Takoma Attachment Parenting, a chapter of API. David and I, along with four other families, are founding leaders of TAP. Our group's motto is "Peaceful Parenting for a Peaceful World." Attachment parenting is the name given to a style of parenting that encourages parents to treat their children with deep respect for their emotional needs as they grow up. At some point, I'll write a fuller post about AP practices and goals. Like many people, David and I found "attachment parenting" after we had already committed to parent in this fashion.

Although on the walk to the line-up I was wondering if the whole thing was really a lousy idea, the whole turned out to be wonderful! Son had a ball carrying our banner part of the time and then passing out brochures with more information about our organization. Lots of folks along the parade route cheered us on. TAP won a first prize Judge's Award for our peace dove!



After the parade, we went to a pool party/ cookout at the home of the parents of another TAP leader, about an hour out of town. The water felt wonderful. We also picked wild blueberries in the adjoining woods, ate fantastic tabouli, drank beer, and talked about our birth experiences with the 9-mounths-pregnant SIL of one of the leaders. I knit a couple of rows of Icarus and admired out host's beautiful quilts. Lovely afternoon.

We came back for fireworks in the evening. I decided to stay home and hit the sack while the boys headed out--and discovered as I walked in the door that our power had gone out during an intense afternoon storm. Despite the incredible heat in our now fan-less bedroom, I was asleep in seconds. Then the fireworks started, very near our house, making the bed rattle and me awake over and over with a start. I can't believe how exhausted I was!

Still no power at home. Son and I are at a local cafe. He's asleep on a comfy couch while I take advantage of the free internet access to make this post.

The Ravenous Raven: One Local Summer

In this house, we've been talking about the Eat Local Challenge ever since we discovered it just as it was ending last August. We were disappointed to discover at the last minute that Locavores decided to have this year's challenge to May in order to provide a new challenge to participants. Since we did not participate last year and were not prepared to do it this May, we've decided that August will be our own personal Eat Local month.

As we were exploring online resources about the Eat Local Challenge, we came across this proposal by Liz at Pocket Farm: One Local Summer. She asks participants to "make one dinner entirely out of local foods during each of the twelve weeks of summer" and report on that meal on their blogs.

Our CSA is not active this week due to the holiday. Therefore, we went shopping at our local food coop. We had a ball scouring the aisles and seeing all the new "locally grown" and "locally made" signs sprouting up around the store. After we came home, we had a lovely evening preparing our dinner.

The menu:

QUICHE


Crust:
Whole Wheat Pastry flour from Frankferd Farms Mill in Saxonburg, PA (255 miles, labeled as local at our food co-op)
Butter from Trickling Springs Creamery in Chambersburg, PA (87 miles)

Custard:
Eggs from Jehovah-Jireh Farm in Dickerson, MD (33 miles and in our county)
Milk from Trickling Springs Creamery

Cheese from Broom's Bloom Dairy in Bel Air, MD (62 miles)

Filling:
Zuchinni from our CSA Licking Creek Bend Farm in Needmore, PA (105 miles, with pick-up in our neighborhood at farmer Mike's house)
Swiss Chard from our own garden (0 miles)
Italian Parsley from our garden


Salad:
lettuce from our garden
tomatoes from Hummingbird Farms in Ridgely, MD (71 miles)
lemon verbena and opal basil from our garden




Dessert:
Cherries from our CSA
French Almond ice cream made by Island Style Ice Cream in Mount Ranier, MD (4 miles)


Tea:
made from spearmint, peppermint, lemon balm, and lemon verbena from our garden

Philadelphia Story, Day 3

On our last morning in Philadelphia, Son and I walked down to the old section of the city where one finds Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, and Betsy Ross's house as well as many historic churches and meeting houses.

During the summer, the city puts on Once Upon a Nation, a celebration of the city's history. We spent a lot of time here last year chatting with costumed interpreters. (After meeting Ben Franklin last year, Son insisted on dressing as Franklin for Halloween.) This year we just had a few hours. For more on our adventures there, you can soon see Son's account.

As we explored Harmony Lane, Son excitedly pointed to a woman sitting on a bench with her spinning wheel. (I swear, we can find fiber stuff wherever we go.) She was chatting with a printer and a young man teaching colonial-era games. We chatted with her for a while and learned that she also spins publically at the interprative center and also at Betsy Ross's house. Although they are not displayed except when she is there, three wheels belong to the Independence folks.




Son pulled out his homespun to show her. She seemed quite pleased and shook his hand. At a nearby gift store, people can buy a beginning spinning kit (spindles packaged with small amounts of fiber). She teaches folks how to use the spindles and especially loves showing the youngsters who come by how to spin. Ah, a noble enabler!





After a morning exploring and listening to stories on the storytelling benches, Son and I stopped by Reading Terminal Market on our walk back to our hotel. We bought pretzels from one of the Pennsylvania Dutch booths. As we ate ours dipped in spicy sweet mustard, we watched the young Amish women knead the dough and twist it.

Then we met David at the hotel and headed home, just in time to babysit one of Son's young friends while his parents celebrated their anniversary.

The four of us went out for Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) at a local restaurant. Both David and I felt VERY strange with two children and kept hoping people did not think they were both ours. Being the parent of an only child seems to be an integral part of our identities now....

Philadelphia Story, Day 2

Yesterday we went to the Franklin Institute, Philadelphia's fantastic science museum. Son talks more about our visit on his blog The Little Giant. But I thought I would show you this vaguely fiber-related thing:

A sheep heart ready for dissection!

In the mid-afternoon we left the museum for a jaunt around town and a stop at an incredible (but expensive) gelato shop. I got honeysuckle gelato and consequently spent the afternoon dreaming of my childhood. On summer evenings, my friends and I used to jump on a neighbor's backyard trampoline and suck honeysuckle from the bushes that surrounded it. As we jumped we bathed in the scent.

After we finished our snack, Son and I walked down 20th to South Street where we found Loop. Wow. Gorgeous store having a huge sale. What more can I say? (I walked out with 3 skeins of Euroflax--45% off.)

As I walked around the store oggling this and that, the women working in the store asked Son if he knew how to knit. He said he did and pulled out the scarf he is knitting from his own handspun. They invited him to sit on the couches with them and another customer. As I walked around the store, they all chatted about knitting and spinning for a while. Son showed them his homemade needles. Then one of the women noticed that he has no front teeth and asked him about the experience of losing them. He kept them entertained with long tales of the Tooth Knight. The women treated him like he belonged in the store. He loves being taken seriously by adults. So the store gets two thumbs up: one for its terrific selection of beautiful yarns nicely displayed and one for amazing customer service (good conversation on top of babysitting!)

The women at Loop recommended a local children's bookstore and we stopped by on our walk to the hotel. Heaven! Even though we are drowning in not-yet-read books from our own shelves as well as having more than 50 books out of the library right now, I felt the titles calling to me. The idea of supporting an independent bookstore of that quality made me feel better about my book lust. We came away with a book I have never seen before: a collection of tales about the Green Man.

We went half a block out of our way to stop at Rosie's Yarn Cellar. Although the store has a great selection, everything is tightly packed in and a little harder to appreciate. The woman working there was trying to unpack some boxes and was preoccupied. She looked a bit annoyed that a 7yo was in her shop. Right as we were about to leave, Son pointed out a sample scarf and said, "Well, that looks like it is in garter but the lines go the wrong way. Is it knit LENGTHWISE?!" The woman eyed him, raised her eyebrows--and then went back to her boxes.

Although today's visit was not the highlight of my trip, I have fond feelings for Rosie's. I think this is the store where I bought the yarn for the sweater I gave David when we were dating. (Oops--didn't know then that you aren't supposed to knit sweaters for lovers until you are married. All turned out fine, though.)

After a brief nap at the hotel, Son and I stopped by David's medical meeting reception. I had a glass of wine, David drank a gin and tonic, and Son was offered a madras sans vodka with a cherry. The bartender called him "Sir" and all of David's colleagues treated the 7yo like quite the adult. Son alternated between chatting about the workings of the human heart (the science of which he learned at the Franklin Institute) and doing a jig in front of the windows.

We then walked down Locust Street to one of our old favorites: More than Just Ice Cream. David and I remembered eating enormous slabs of apple pie back when we were dating. Last night, though, we stuck with gazpacho and salad. Next time we have to come hungrier....

Philadelphia Story, Day 1

David has a short conference in Philadelphia this week. Son and I drove up with him yesterday to spend some time in this favorite city of mine. Our already-short visit was further shortened by a late arrival. Because of an accident on I-95, we spent a couple of extra hours in the car, starving and needing to go to the bathroom too, before we actually pulled into the city in the afternoon.

When we finally arrived in Philadephia, we went straight to 4th Street Deli. David and I used to bring his parents here every time they came to visit us back when we lived in West Philadelphia. Son ordered matzah ball soup--and although there was only one matzah ball in the bowl, it was as big as the 7yo's head.

When we walked out of the restaurant, we noticed Sophie's Yarns across the street! After adding some change to the parking meter, we wandered around the neighborhood looking at all the shops on fabric row and buying some loose tea at a gorgeous tea shop. Then: the official start of the Philadelphia Yarn Crawl.

Although Sophie's does not have an enormous selection, what they have is really lovely. Even the displays are yummy. I loved seeing all the Manos stuff and would love to be able to spin singles that look as beautiful as their yarns. I did see some yarn that looked remarkable like my first yarn.

The Village Knittiot suggested to me that if we were in the neighborhood of Sophie's Yarns, I should check out the Essene Market, a gorgeous natural foods store. I thought about taking some pictures to pass around at the next co-op board meeting.

After poking around that area, we went through the Italian Market. In addition to olive stores and cheese stores and bakeries and a huge outdoor market in front of stores with ducks and pigs and the like hanging in their windows, the Italian Market has my favorite cookware shop, Fante's. The neighborhood also has a enormous Vietnamese community and a bunch of new WASPy stores and residents.

We hopped in the car and drove across Center City to Chinatown. I'm always amazed at how vibrant the community is compared to DC's Chinatown. We stopped by our old favorite Chinese pastry shop for red bean buns. Alas, sigh.... The shelves were almost empty and there were no more red bean buns. As we were contemplating whether to get pineapple custard buns or peanut butter buns instead of our old favorites, the woman at the counter offered to call for some red bean. I thought she was calling the folks in the back--but then a woman ran around the corner from their other store to bring some to us! Wow. They are this morning's breakfast. Yummy.

It feels so right to be back here. Wish we had more time than we will have this visit!

Wet Weekend

Over the weekend we went to a young friend's birthday party. The plan was for guests to pitch tents in her family's big yard and camp in honor of Great American Backyard Campout. Although rain had been predicted for more than 24 hours before the party started, the sun prevailed all afternoon and we enjoyed every minute in their yard.

Although most of the guests decided not to camp, those of us who planned to stay began to set up around 7pm. We snapped together metal rods, fed them through tent flaps, and drove tent stakes into the ground. We took a bit of a break to coat ourselves again in mosquito repellant, then went back to work spreading blankets over the tarp and pulling our favorite pillows out of the car. The second I emerged from our perfectly outfitted tent, the skies opened and the lightening began.

We grabbed our pillows and slept on our hosts' couch.

All the adults spent the evening drinking Jamaican beer and talking about everything from politics to parenting to local restaurants. We started again in the morning with bloody marys, scrambled egg burritos, and more talk. The kids had a great time running around, planning elaborate circus-like shows that only vaguely materialized, and getting very wet. A terrific weekend!

David and I both got some knitting done at the birthday party. He's working on his socks and I on the same thing that everyone else seems to be knitting these days: Icarus.



*

Today my father started both radiation and chemo. I knit.

WHAT COMES NEXT: A Story in Lace

Here we are
at the place we thought was so close
to the end of our journeys, the end of the rows.
How much was left we did not understand.

The race began
with your cancer diagnosis, a deadly brand.
The tumor radiated, sounding a rhythm
like a stitch pattern: T3, N1, M0.

In just days
you left for the hospital with a suitcase
full of books you would not read but needed
to remind you who you were before

your head was opened

and you lost
your ability to read, to wear your contacts, to walk
without assistance, to speak clearly, to raise
an eyebrow, to smile with your whole face.

They took you off
the operating table in the evening. I left
the kitchen table where I knit at a frantic pace
every moment you were there.

I cast on
the slippery business of nine stitches
divided between three needles,
then multiplied by two again and again,

counting to twelve
and slipping red rubber markers from one needle
to the next, held by the rhythm of the lace
as the long hours of surgery passed.

I kept knitting
the patterned holes and their paired mendings,
YOs and K2TOGs, radiating outwards
in a pattern of diamonds, all those rows of almost

Six hundred loops.
I am at the end of my own spiral,
at the precipice of this enormous circle,
struggling to learn how to change direction

from what has become
the almost mindless rounds of pattern
to the altogether new: the back and forth
of unlikely stitches following an invisible cast on.

You too cast out
an unimaginable cord that will have to start your new life.
You start the back and forth of trips to a new place:
the radiology center. The doctor marks

the spot on your face,
showing the beam where to enter, where to burn.
It will destroy the fibers of your tissue. It will exhaust you.
The doctor counts out a summer full of dates.

With waste yarn
I try again and again to make the start
which will appear seamless when all is complete. I cry
in frustration at this lace and its promise to sustain me.

When I started
this knitted shawl, that lace edging looked small,
just something to savor and celebrate
when everything complicated had past.

Now as I rip
out rows of varying lengths, with doubled holes
meant to be dealt with by means I cannot trace,
I realize how far this whole thing is from complete.

We no longer know what comes next
and look for grace.



Other lace posts:
1, 2, 3, 4

Celtic Festival: The Music

We had a wonderful time at the Potomac Celtic Festival this past weekend. There was a lot of terrific music--even some by performers other than Son!

One of our long-time favorite bands in Tinsmith. In addition to hearing them at the festival as often as we can, we listen to their album almost every day and Son dances around the living room in his little girl's school uniform kilt. Tinsmith was as good as ever! We went to hear them twice on Saturday.

One of our new musical discoveries this year was Le Vent du Nord. They are a roots music band from Quebec. In addition to enjoying the great Celtic/Cajun music they played, we loved their onstage personae. They filled us all with energy.

There was dancing in the aisles.

One player, the fiddler, kept up a great rhythm with his feet. While sitting and playing his fiddle, he also tapped on a wooden plank hooked up to a microphone. Another member of the band was the sexiest hurdy-gurdy player I've ever seen. (He does not have a lot of competition--but even if he did, he'd win.) The other two members of Le Vent du Nord are a guitar player, shy compared to the others but a fabulous musician, and an accordian player/step dancer. They were amazing!

There was more dancing.

When the accordian player pulled out a set of sticks or bones to click in his hands, Rowan from Tinsmith pulled out his own set. Le Vent du Nord invited him up with his sticks and they performed together. What a dream come true for those of us who are fans of both.

If you look at the front page of the Celtic Festival website, you'll see a picture of Son in his kilt with chainmail, a helmet, and a sword in the upper right corner of the montage.