May I See What You’re Working On?

She was sitting with her legs crossed at the ankle, wearing a beige Chanel suit, her perfectly made up face partially hidden by the pages of the New York Times Arts section.   For at least ten minutes, I had felt her gaze wandering up over her paper to where I sat, knitting. I never looked up to meet her eyes, but I could feel her watching my hands like a hawk watches a rabbit play in a meadow.  The tension was mounting, to the point I was fearful of dropping a stitch when, finally, she spoke...”excuse me, but may I see what you are working on?”.  And thus began our conversation.  I showed her what I was knitting, let her look over the pattern.  She wanted to know who it was for. I told her it was a Christmas present and that, yes, I worked on Christmas presents in March, one has to if one wants everything completed by December.  She told me she used to be a knitter, years ago, couldn’t remember why she gave it up...  we talked and talked as though we’d known each other for ages.

And then.....once, years ago, I was returning home on a plane from Los Angeles, passing the time by needlepointing a pillow for my brother and sister-in-law for Christmas.  Slowly I  began to notice several serious-faced, dark-suited gentleman coming down each of the aisles, looking over the passengers.  All of a sudden I was aware of someone standing at my elbow.  I looked up to see former President Jimmy Carter smiling down at me, surrounded by secret service men.  He asked to see the needlepoint,  told me he really liked it and we proceeded to talk about it for a good while. Before he walked away, he told me he thought I was a very pretty girl.  Gee whiz.   

Such is the magic of doing any type of needlework in public.  It is an activity that just seems to be approachable; to connect people to one another in a way.   Everyone, and I mean everyone, wants to see what you’re working on.  Whereas strangers might never inquire as to what book you are reading, or to whom you are writing that letter, they will almost always ask about what you are making. Who knows why?   Perhaps this particular art ties us a bit to the past, to those who once created this type of work out of necessity rather than luxury.

 I do know there is not much more satisfying that taking the time to make something for someone else, seeing the smiles when they realize how much you think of them is such a treat.  Believe it or not, yes, I am already working on Christmas presents.  Gathering beautiful wools and silks, deciding on patterns, and knitting away.... all activities I enjoy immensely, all year long. It is a sweet bonus to see all my  work later in its new home,  with the ones I made it for.  

Here.... see what I mean......

These beautiful eyes belong to Harlan. 

 You can see a bit of the hat that I hid in her Easter box last year. 

 Harlan is a magical creature, who makes exquisite little houses for the fairies in her garden and sleeps in a bedroom high up in the trees.

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This is Walter. 

He is just a couple of  weeks old in this photograph, wearing a fair isle hat that I made just for him, before I knew his name of course.  
It happened to snow right after he was born, so with his new hat, Walter was ready for his very first snowfall.

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This is my dear friend, Sandee, the divine photographer, modeling her most recent Christmas gift.  

We speak in shorthand and know each other’s secrets.  
You can see her amazing work HERE.
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These lovely girls are my god-daughters,  Anna and Katie.

Don’t they look fetching

 in their colourful beehive hats?

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Another hat, this time worn by the most exquisite, Sarah.

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Oh, and this handsome fellow is Gatsby, wearing his Ralph Lauren coat and posing proudly by the petit-point pillow I made for him one Christmas.

  Gatsby goes to the steeplechase every year and has been on holiday in France where he managed to get off his lead one afternoon and cause his devoted owner no small amount of distress. 

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My sweet friend Jan is modeling her latest Christmas presents. 

 Both the scarf and the hat were done in cotton in a colour I knew would suit the lovely Jan just perfectly.  Jan is my Francophile friend, the one who brought me home a fairy from the Ile Saint Louis, her favourite place in the world.

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And of course, my favourite model is always Edward.

  This time he is wearing a scarf that I just completed using a pattern by the wonderful Emma Lamb.  This scarf works up beautifully, so much so that I’m in the middle of another one right now.  It’s a fun pattern and you can get it HERE.

Remember, it’s never to early to start on presents.  You’ll be entertained all year long,  and you never know who you’ll meet whilst you’re working.

Wolf Hall

History, although perhaps a dusty, dreaded subject when one is young, does serve a paramount purpose for those who pay attention in life.  History provides us with signposts which, though sometimes difficult to read, often warped and charred by time, warn of all the dark pitfalls that have so often claimed the breath and spirit of those gone before.  Surely, it is the intent of history to bequeath knowledge, in the hope that we as human beings may not follow the rutted pathways of the ignorant, but climb, century by century, bit by bit, ever higher, till we manage to reach a nobler, more enlightened hill from which to view the world.  For should we not learn from the mistakes of others, as well as the mistakes of our own?

It is, no doubt, a result of my Scottish DNA, but I have always been captivated by the history of Britain.  As a child, I knew all the wives of Henry VIII long before I could recite the names of my own First Ladies.  Somehow, although she was an interesting woman to be sure, the travails of Dolley Madison just never seemed to equal those of the ill-fated, black-eyed Anne Boleyn.  Recently, I have found myself mentally wandering the palaces of the Tudors once again, my torch held high in order to decipher all the brilliantly written pages of Hillary Mantel’s Booker Prize winning novel, Wolf Hall.  Set during the reign of Henry VIII, Wolf Hall shines its light on Thomas Cromwell, a figure usually found just outside the frame, a bit on the periphery, where one is forever likely to find the most powerful figures of any government.  It is through Cromwell’s sharp eyes that we are given a unique view of the events of that day.  As I read of the frequently barbarous nature of life in Tudor England - the crowds of mothers and children excitedly watching all manner of public executions, those in government so determined to hold onto the intoxicating notion of power that any idea of public good never crosses their minds - I suppose I indulged in a bit of quiet superiority, thankful for the civilized life that I lead, grateful that the past is now past.  

And then I picked up the newspaper. 

 As some of you know, we here in the States have been locked in a rancorous battle over health care reform, a battle that certainly came as no surprise, given the fact that US Presidents have attempted to tackle this problem for a hundred years, but to no avail.  The issue was voted on this past weekend, an occurrence that brought out opponents and supporters alike.  It happened at a rally in Columbus, Ohio.  A man was sitting on the ground with a sign that said he had Parkinson’s disease.  A group demonstrating against reform began taunting the man, accusing him of “looking for a handout” and throwing dollar bills into his lap.  In Washington, DC, racial epithets were hurled at a black congressman who is a hero of the civil rights movement, whilst slurs were shouted at another congressman because he is gay.

Juxtaposed against the illuminating passages of Wolf Hall, these news reports had a sobering effect.  I had to wonder:  How far have we really come?  Is it even possible for intelligent reason and compassion to exist in a world where any sort of vile behaviour is acceptable for those so encased in hatred and fear? Or are we merely like those little boats of Fitzgerald’s, forever beating against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Has history taught us nothing?

Spring Sale

It is warm today!  Actually warm!

The sun has remembered how to shine, there are sweet breezes blowing, and Edward is staring at me with a gleam in his eye.

 I have rolled all my responsibilites up into a prickly, peevish ball and thrown them right out the window to be blown far away by a gust of March wind.

With an apple and some dog biscuits in my pocket, Edward and I are off to enjoy the glorious weather!

  No time to write today.  

So, as a part of our Springtime celebration, I am having a special sale in my Etsy shoppe, just for all you wonderful blog readers.  

Here's how it works.  From now thru Sunday the 28th, all items in The House of Edward are 25% off.   If you purchase an item, send me an Etsy message, or regular email, and let me know that you came from the blog and I will refund your paypal account 25%.

In the shoppe you will find Easter bunnies and wedding cakes, silver dogs, babies and lovebirds, and one happy, laughing pig.  All are boxes that open to hide away special keepsakes, special memories, or even chocolate eggs!

Have fun.

And, more words soon!

I promise.

All Items From The Shoppe at the House of Edward