My Yesterday

The last few days we have enjoyed intermittent - very intermittent - sunshine. It's not enough to really warm things up, and the hailstorms punctuating the afternoon kept the air downright chilly, but it's enough to make me think there's hope yet.

I bought this pulsatilla plant several years ago - five, maybe? - and would love to find more one day. I haven't seen any for sale since, though I haven't looked too hard. I kept thinking it might spread, or self-seed, or something. (It hasn't.)

School is nearly finished for the year. We have two weeks or so left. The lightning-swift passage of time never ceases to amaze and unnerve me.

Edgestitching

WOW, it has been cold. Around here, May is usually a beautiful month, with June being the rainier of the two. This year we've only had one or two partly sunny days interspersed among the otherwise constant rain and cloud.

I've been out in the garden a lot, though. We're planning a family reunion here this summer, so I want to make things look nice for when everybody gets here.

A few years ago my friend introduced me to the idea of the 'mowing path', and I cottoned right on to it. It took me a while to get it done, mainly because of the expense...I prefer the look of a wider paved strip, and that multiplies your cost by a lot.

I put this raised bed in several years ago, and - partly because of the shape - it has always been a pain to keep the lawn tidy around it. I don't mind things growing where they're not supposed to, but I'm not so keen on losing my carefully-stacked rockery in a wild, leggy frontier of grass.

I had some pavers left over from a different project last year, and by miraculous happenstance there were exactly the right number to go round the front of the raised bed.

So, it was time for a little clever spade work (supervised by Piper). 

I levelled the soil (difficult - old roots everywhere) and put down a double layer of weed barrier. I laid the pavers, and transplanted a bunch of 2" chunks of creeping thyme from the front yard to fill the larger cracks.

I poured on a bag of jointing sand and swept it into the cracks...this process took the better part of a day and I'm still not sure I'm finished...as long as the sand keeps settling, I'll need to keep adding more.

But for now I'm satisfied, and I must say, I think the effect is pretty sharp.







That green thing on the right side is rosemary. It's doing a little too well...the left side of the bed is decidedly disadvantaged, being planted up with a failing hydrangea and a leggy, wildly self-propagating chrysanthemum.

And now, with that done, my new wellies and I are taking a few days off.

Starts

Yesterday Elizabeth commented on the fact that I had visible grass in my Rheingold photo...and since the sun is out again today, I thought you might like to see what else is going on in my yard.


Front:

and back:



It's February...still winter, technically, but on Vancouver Island it's early spring. Boy I like it here.

El Fruitablo

Elizabeth, at the end of this post I respond to your question about the Easter dress.
____________________________________
And another one's gone
and another one's down...

Weeks just keep flowing by and I barely notice.

Work continues on the Shetland project: I have finished all the washing and am carding and spinning. I've done two skeins of grey (showed you that before) and two skeins of white.

The white fleece, which I have the most of, was the dirtiest one of all. In the words of my shepherd boy, "She's a real pig." This ewe rolls in anything she finds, and the day before she was shorn, got into the woodchip pile and wriggled down deep. Have a gander at her fleece, soaking in the tub:



and this is what the water looked like afterwards (three washes like this, then two rinses, gets most of it out):




The dirt isn't the problem though - the woodchips and grass seed are the problem. There's only one way to remove that: card, card, and then card again. When you're done carding, card it a few more times. Couple more times through the carders for good measure, keeping your tweezers handy to pick out more grass seed, and then give up and roll it into a rolag. What you didn't get out in the washing and carding, you have to pick out as you spin the singles.

I borrowed this little sweetie from the guild the other day: it's not as helpful as I thought it would be though. Turns out wool is like bread: if you want it done right, you have to finish by hand.



Spinning outside is lovely nowadays, but I have to get out there early - by 10:30 the shade is mostly gone from the back garden, and I need shade: it is hot. 42 today (109.4). Hot enough, as Auntie Bina says, to make the tongue of a crow hang out.

The garden has bloomed


faded

and gone to seed

These pictures will get bigger if you click on them.

As hot as it is, though, these little dudes don't seem bothered by it. They're the only ones hard at it, in the scorching sun. Talk about a work ethic.
Notice that the children have stripped my lavandula angustifolia Hidcote - they were making potions last week and had to use the better part of six lavender plants' worth of blooms, to create an effective curse. I didn't ask what they were cursing - it sounded like the answer might be "The neighbour's house" and I wanted to be sure of plausible deniability, later. In the event that they turn out to be unexpectedly good at hexes, though, with that much lavender I imagine the effect won't be anything more ominous than a sudden lassitude followed by fits of remarkably soothing narcolepsy.

And maybe softer skin.

The shade garden is doing fairly well - thanks Rona for the Lady's Mantle. The best part about alchemilla vulgaris is the way it looks after you've watered. Not that you can tell - in this weather the water is mostly gone within minutes.

Lastly, here's my beautiful, chilled dinner - isn't it lovely?

I have no idea what the other people who live here will be eating: I suspect I'll have to turn a burner on at some point, but only when I'm forced to.

________________________________________

In response to Elizabeth's question on the Easter Dress post:

I suspect the pattern piece you're trying to lay out is supposed to be cut on a single layer. Double-check that, and if it still doesn't fit, cut two and seam them together. The skirt is just a huge square (rectangle?) anyway, so it won't affect the fit. Just try to make sure the seam lands on a side, and matches with the side seam of the bodice when sewn. It IS possible that the dress is designed for 60" fabric only, and that your one particular piece won't fit on a 44" fabric, if that's what you have. Sometimes that happens - it just means you seam the piece and have to buy a little extra. Good luck! If you have any questions, ask me again. Maybe email me at the address in the sidebar, so I know how to get in touch.

Longdrew

I finished spinning the Romney - now that I've really got the hang of the longdraw, I can't believe how fast it was. One evening to do the second bobbin, a day to let it rest, and less than an hour to ply.



I ended up with 136 grams of a 12 wraps-per-inch 2-ply, with an estimated 230 meters. This puts into the worsted-weight category, which was a little heavier than I was going for - I was aiming at DK. Still and all, it'll make a nice something-or-other.

I've started spinning the Shetland, now that I'm comfortable with the woollen longdraw, and the other night I filled a bobbin in an awfully short time. I will be spinning and plying this fleece one ball at a time, apparently - using two bobbins of singles onto two bobbins of 2-ply. I had wanted to do a whole bunch of singles before plying, but I've not got the bobbin space for that. I've only got four bobbins for my wheel (I have three Ashford bobbins but they are shorter in the shaft-length so I have to futz about jimmying washers to keep the tension line from hitting the flyer arms as I spin).

No pictures of Shetland singles yet - next time.

Friday I am doing a performance (real, honest-to-goodness, darkened-theatre gala performance) for which a lot of rehearsal with duet partners is necessary, so I might not post again this week.

Might, though.

Today, tomorrow, and Thursday are good days for planting and transplanting. I went to a local charity plant sale last weekend and have been anxiously waiting to put in all the perennials I bought. I also acquired a hazelnut tree for a song (less than $5) because, I think, it has been chomped by a deer while a seedling. The central trunk is cut off about 2" from the ground and the tree has already started branching below this pollard - it'll be interesting to see how it grows in the next few years.

I think I'll do hanging baskets this year - tips? I've worked out that you need to stuff those suckers fuller than full, and feed them like Hansel and Gretel, but any other less well-known wisdom would be very welcome.

I think they'll be full sun.

Well the great, blustery outdoors awaits. Off I go to get dirty.

Don't Be Afraid to Let 'er Rip

Thanks everybody, for your well wishes on my anniversary post. Mr HalfSoledBoots even read it, after I told him his anniversary card was online and he'd have to go to the blog to see it.


These photos are very dark - I took them outside hoping for some natural light, but there was just enough to disable the flash and not enough to show the colours.

Drifting is coming along beautifully. I've finished the sleeves and the front, which means I would be completely done the knitting except that I need to knit another back since I ripped out the first one.

When you're knitting fair-isle, as everyone knows, you have to be careful to keep your floats loose or the knitting pulls in and ripples the surface of the work. To make tensioning easier, the designer calls for a needle change just for the colourwork band - you move up to a 4.5mm from a 4mm. The problem was, I usually handle the tension issues myself, by pulling the stitches along the right hand needle as I work. This, combined with the larger needle, made the colourwork band simply too loose and sloppy-looking. You couldn't tell from the picture, but it just wasn't good enough for Ruby.

So I ripped and I'm now one inch into The Back, Part II. I should be done it by this weekend, and then I can block, seam, and knit the button bands.

The pattern itself is a good one - these vivid colours really keep my interest. I also like the natural sections of the pieces - it keeps you knitting to the end of that section. You knit merrily along, enjoying the feeling of the wool, then suddenly the purple is over. So you start the colourwork, and then you feel like you really should carry on just until that's over, but then the beautiful blue starts and the decreases begin, and you think "Well, it's only a few inches, it would really be a shame to stop now." Then it's 1:00 AM and you bind off in triumph.


The front.

I do have two criticisms, though. One is for the book in general - I really do feel that "Fair Isle" should be done in finer yarn. It looks pixelated and clunky when it's in anything above a sport weight.

The second is that this pattern (and, probably, other patterns in this book) should really be knit in the round. A steek would not be necessary - you could knit in the round from the hem to the underarm, then divide. That way, you do the colourwork band in the round and save yourself the torture of the purl rows, not to mention the abhorrent looseness at the edge of each piece, when your yarn ends are dangling there looking pointless and sloppy. I think no matter how carefully I block, steam, and seam, there is going to be some rippling at the side seams. AND THAT BOTHERS ME.

This shows the colour better.

-------------------------------------------

Piper is six months old now.

And after putting up a 6+ foot fence to keep the hateful deer at bay, I have blooms on my hydrangea for the first time in three years.



So altogether the world is spinning nicely today.

Third, Taurus.

I did some transplanting last month. My best girl was here from Victoria and I took advantage of her amazing arms (she paddles an ocean kayak for a living) to help me acquire two thirty-year-old rhododendrons. These rhodos belonged to my friend Cameron, whose walkway they have encroached on for the last ten years. She and her husband cut them back ruthlessly a couple of times a year, but these monsters will not be put down. Access to their front door was being seriously impeded by these titanic shrubs, so Cameron offered them to me.

Thing I Learned While Transplanting Magnitudinous Rhododendrons #1:

Be Ruthless.

First you prune. And this is going to take you about 15 minutes. No time at all. Bring a set of 1" branch loppers and a saw. But don't get cocky: you will spend the next 2.5 hours getting to the next stage:

Thing I Learned While Transplanting Magnitudinous Rhododendrons #2:

Just Keep Digging. You're Not Done Yet. Keep Going. No, Not Yet Either. Dig More. Bit More. Little Bit More. Dig More. More. Not Done Yet.

At this point, we could not even rock the plant yet. That's how much this rootball did NOT want to let go of its life-giving Mother Earth. This is also the point at which my friend straightened up, wiped her brow, leaned on her spade, and said "I hate to say it Shan, but...."

"DON'T SAY IT," I warned her sternly.

She said it anyway. "I think we need a man."

"We do NOT need a man," I snapped, not looking up. I redoubled my efforts.

And, I was triumphant and smug when, twenty minutes later, we were here:

Thing I Learned While Transplanting Magnitudinous Rhododendrons #3:

It Is Not Easy To Get A 175-or-so-pound Rootball Into A .8 Meter-high Wheelbarrow.

But, manless, we managed it.

See how teeny my friend Cameron's wheelbarrow looks? It's not teeny, my friends. Neither is Paddlegirl's truck:

Thing I Learned While Transplanting Magnitudinous Rhododendrons #4-5:

Check The Tire Pressure Ahead Of Time and Bring Rope

That sucker was heavy.

When planning this wee bit of gardening, we had the happy delusion that we'd move both plants at once. As it happened, we barely got even ONE of them fit into the back of her truck at a time, and that only because her tailgate was pretty strong and the canopy window goes WAY up. And we had the devil of a time wrassling them onto the truck from the wheelbarrow - if I had had the forethought to take pictures of our arms you would see how much bloodletting this whole exercise involved.

Thing I Learned While Transplanting Magnitudinous Rhododendrons #6:

Have The Hole Dug Way In Advance

Here the lovely rhododendrons, in three years' time, will provide a screen for the less attractive area of our back garden, and will visually anchor that whole area. They are now in dappled shade, with lots of bone meal and peat under their poor traumatised roots, and with a soaker hose running cool soothing water over them.

One last note: it just happened that my friend came over just when the moon was almost perfectly situated for transplanting. It could have been very slightly better: fourth is better than third, and Cancer is better than Taurus, but we only had 24 hours' notice so I'm not complaining. The roots of this plant should do well (that is, if they prove resistant to the juglone from the nearby walnut tree).

Up-Freaking-Date

Somebody does WIP it Wednesday....maybe Jo? Anyway, here are some WIPs (WIP = Work in Progress).

The centre of the Cap Shawl is almost complete. The rounds are now 738 stitches long so one round takes a fair bit of time, especially now that I've got these six purl rows to do. Purling doesn't feel any slower to me, but when I look at the clock I can tell it is. It takes me almost half an hour to do a round on this, at the moment.



Lace in progress is pretty boring stuff to look at, which is why I've spared you too many progress shots. There you have it, though: round 170 of 172. Feels like these next 2.5 rounds will take for-freaking-ever. (Aside: thank you Megan for formally introducing me, all those years ago, to the concept of the expletive infixation. It has validated all kinds of linguistic outrage for me. By the way if you have the time, do read that entire article - it's hilarious.)

And as promised I am showing you a picture of Charlotte's stocking. It was kind of a knit-centric week (trying oh, so hard, to get that stupid Cap Shawl done) so I didn't do much......if it sounds like an excuse, it is.

Last week:




This week:




Is it enough, O most enlightened reader? Or does the sun appear dark in your eyes because of my slack-freaking-assedness? I know which one I'd choose.

I'll do better next week, I promise.

Here's the peony, in full blowsy bloom. This is one decadent plant: between its scent, its glorious plumage, its syrupy buds, and its almost instant progress from bloom to decay, it is the Roman Dinner Party of the perennial world.



And that's all we have time for today. Catch you on the flip side, my fan-f*cking-tastic darlings.

Well-meaning but Misguided

Making my garden rounds this morning I saw this poor old thing, hanging off a chive from one lifeless leg. At least he died happy.




And the deer have been around, as my beloved Northern Spy apple tree and my dwarf sumac can attest.






Now, you know I am careless about the inside of my house, but I am vigilant about untidiness in the garden. I weed like a crazed woman, hunting the beds for any sign, no matter how teeny, of an aggressive intruder. When I see a little sprout starting, I ruthlessly jerk it from its nurturing soil and toss it, roots-up, onto the concrete driveway in the blistering sun. Once it's dead and dried and wilted past saving, it goes into a garbage bin to be taken to the curb on "Yard Waste" day. I have no mercy. I am grim-faced and methodical.

I am a weeding Nazi.

I've lived here for four years and each year I struggle with this one particular weed, which keeps coming back behind my front bed. It's got kind of a furry, floppy, large leaf and it is pretty hard to get rid of. It must grow from root fragments or something.

Well, this year I did my first weeding day a little earlier than usual. I pulled out all the mystery weeds I could find. A month or so later, I noticed that two more of them had started up after I left, and were at a good distance from the edge of the bed. Hard to reach. I felt a fury and a hatred rise up within me, but I also felt something else - defeated. Demoralised. Woebegone.

I kept meaning to get out the long-handled cultivator and chop out those weeds, but got a little distracted keeping up with the perennial beds (and keeping Piper from uprooting and devouring them) and forgot about them.

Yesterday I went out to spend the afternoon in the front garden. I had to edge the front bed, tie up the peonies, deadhead the bachelor buttons, pull out the recurrent buttercup that is the scourge of my life and threatens to choke out the shrubbery, and weed the corner heather. I cleared out a meter-high collection of buttercup and stinky (but beautiful) pink weeds whose leaves look a little like bleeding heart. I stood back to admire my work, and that's when I saw them. Saw the weeds I have been pulling out for four years in an attempt to keep my front perennial bed beautiful and tidy.

While mourning the fact that I don't have enough money to buy any more lovely perennials to beautify my flower garden.



And here are the weeds.






And now I think I shall take up stamp collecting instead.

Growth - with photos.

Origami beads, strung with Czech glass (and yes, the odd plastic) for a friend.

Cap Shawl update - I'm on round 153 of 163. Once the main body is finished, I shall have the pleasure of knitting the attached border.

Stripey socks news: a disaster befell me while I was riding to knitting a few weeks ago. Due to a combination of careless sock-stowage and winds generated by incredible, super-human speeds, my sock-in-progress, along with its Addi Turbo, got sucked into the pedal thingy. Like, the place where the pedal is attached to the bike. The entire shooting match was wrapped so tightly around the pedal thingy (help me out here, Lizbon) that I had to cut the yarn free, and now my Addi Turbo is permanently kinked in several places. Dirty grease is immovably ground into the leg of the sock. And I have lost my mojo.

But look how good my dinner was.

Baby Yukon Golds, olive oil, butter, rosemary from my garden, Maldon salt and cracked pepper.

Pink hardy geraniums, and my first ever stargazer (I think that's what it is).

Chives, a very pretty plant that also provides highly popular bee and butterfly habitat. These are unbelievably hardy, fast growing, and you can cut them down after their first bloom to get a second one later in the summer. Hummingbirds love them too.

And with all this stitching, knitting, cooking and weeding, some things are bound to take a backseat.

(Hi, knititch!)

A brief update

I had a busy week. I'll spare you most of the details - or write about them later.


First:





All right, which one of you sent me this great postcard? I thought I could decipher the initial on the back, and thanked no fewer than three separate people, in turn, who all then denied having anything to do with it. So who do I thank? The back says "Make these for the family next time you want to avoid cleaning. We're here for you!" That means that A) the sender is a reader; and B) they are my kind of people.




I was puttering in the garden the other day, and ambled over to my iris patch to admire the emerging flowers. They are far from open, as yet.




But......what's that?





OH CRIPES THOSE BLOODY DEER HAVE EATEN FOUR OUT OF SEVEN OF MY IRISES.


Wait a second...do deer bite off the flowerheads and then drop them behind the plants?



No. They don't. You know what DO, as it turns out? FREAKING FOUR YEAR OLDS WITH SCISSORS. She must be stopped.