My New Old Friends

The incomparable Joan Schrouder recently hatched a cunning plan, whereby all the knitting teachers she could find in Oregon, weather or not she knew them yet, were invited to a retreat with her at the coast.  She thought it would be nice for all of us to take a bit of time to get to know one another, network, compare war stories, and of course, knit.  Of the original 14 invitees (you would not believe how many high-profile Knitterati live in Oregon), 7 of us made it (this first time).

Joan's clever house-marker, propped up in the yard

In addition to their careers as mild-mannered knitting teachers, the group's secret identities include: 30-year Phlebotomist, Private Practice Optometrist, Computer Scientist, Copyright Attorney, Wife and Business Partner of a real-live Rock Star, and a Wall Street Investment Banker-turned-Cattle Rancher.  Oh, and there's me: Cube-Farm Refugee.  These are some smart, powerful and busy women.

Nautical sunset on the Oregon Coast

In addition to taking in some of the greatest coastal scenery the country has to offer, we genuinely enjoyed one another's company.  We did a lot of show-and-tell, exchanged many problems and solutions, ate like kings, and knit like maniacs.  We all surprised ourselves by making a lot of progress on our projects du jour as we talked and bonded.

Clockwise from upper left: Parna Mehrbani, Angela Davis, Joan Schrouder, Shelia January, Mary Scott Huff, Anne Berk, JC Briar

We promised ourselves and each other to do more of this.  In addition to including the others who couldn't make it this time, we all agreed that we want more of this kind of restorative and inspirational time together.

And we have several evil schemes brewing.  Which should come as a surprise to no one who knows me, or my New Old Friends.

Baa, Baa Black Sheep

Here is the back of the Caorah Dubh sweater, pinned out on the blocking board.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to take a respectable photo of this color, but you can absolutely take my word for it:  My yarn rocks.

To describe knitting with my own handspun, I'll have to resort to a food metaphor:  If working with millspun yarn were a perfect hothouse tomato, dewy and chilled from the produce aisle, then handspun knitting would be standing in the garden, filching tomatoes off the vine.  They have blemishes, they are warm from the sun, and there is absolutely nothing else in the world quite like them.

Make me this promise, Gentle Readers, even if you have no interest in learning to spin yourself:  Get hold of some handspun yarn, and make something from it.  You don't have to become a Master Gardener to appreciate a good tomato.  Just find the right garden.
 

The Results Are In

Many sincere thanks, Gentle Readers, for your words of opinionated wisdom,  What a clever and generous lot you are!  The winning candidate, based on your input, is "A".  Here is another shot of it, in natural light.

"A" would like to thank its many supporters, and promises to remain both deep and sophisticated, at least through the first few washes.

In other news, I'm leaving for a long, romantic weekend by the sea.  I'm taking someone very special with me:  Someone warm and dear, who has known me for quite a while, and who has been through so much with me that we have truly become soul mates:

I'm sure you all remember Caora Dubh, the 5-ply handspun.  Here is the very first swatch, with which I am pleased to distraction.  The sketch is my jumping-off point.  I have chosen some really pretty cables, and found some very special buttons, so I feel good about the direction we're headed, the String and I.  To say I have a crush on this yarn is putting it mildly.  Knitting with it is a sublime experience.  There are simply not words to describe the enjoyment.  I think we are going to have a really intimate and enlightening time together this weekend. 

Sure hope my husband and children being there won't wreck it.