Learning to Knit and Remembering

The Big Bowerbird has moved on from face washer and made herself a pair of hand-warmers   I hope she remembers this time, sitting on our old couch, bathed in golden sunlight, learning to knit. A tumbling of calls for Nenek, the knitting and slipping of stitches, the studious concentration, the joy of watching a project take shape.

There are so many treasured memories I have left somewhere behind in my childhood, now many are just brief glimpses, lingering like a forgotten dream. I remember mum trying to teach me around my daughters age, and really not having a strong aptitude for it. A wonky blanket for my dolly.  I wish I could snatch out clearer pictures from that foggy past. Here I am again, fumbling along. I think mum's more patient this time around, and perhaps I am too. It's almost summer, but I think I will keep knitting, lest I forget how to all over again.

We gave a small donation to the Remembrance Day Poppy Appeal today. I just donated some coins, as I don't like the waste that all the fundraising trinkets create. A beautiful old man placed poppy stickers on the children and was so thankful. It was as if I'd filled his tin with notes. I felt it was the least I could do after getting lured into buying a ticket for the obscenely large Oz lotto draw. I then had to explain to the children about war, and what sometimes happens to soldiers who come back from war, and what happens when they don't. Lest We Forget. Nenek's dad was away so long at war that she didn't recognise him on his return. How lucky we are to live in such comparatively peaceful times. Luckier than winning 1st division I would say.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

 John McCrae, 1915

You can plant a virtual poppy to remember a loved one, or find out how to donate here.

Beginners Knitting - Wash Cloth

I have had my mum visiting these last few weeks.  There has been less blogging and more: chatting,  cafe swanning, tasty dining, wine sipping, and generally making the most of having a mum in the same country as me. 

There has also been much crafting.

  I have discovered the simple pleasure of knitting a cotton wash cloth - my first attempt at knitting since I created a wonky scarf over a decade ago. A great way to learn and practice different stitches, a wash cloth sampler if you will. I love watching those stitches create different patterns, who would have thought Knit and Pearl could create so many different looks. We've been scouring op shops for knitting needles - obviously I am not alone as there were slim pickings.  I have decided I am a fan of the bamboo needle and discovered some unused ones at our local Salvos.

 Hmm not sure if my peculiarly shaped, man size, rectangle flannel passes muster with the little one. It's great for a neck scrub and hangs well over the shower bar.  Today she encouragingly told me that "I could do better than that", when I made a dud Frisbee throw. I suspect this is also the case with my wash cloth. I am strangely looking forward to making more. The gentle clicking, peacefulness of knitting, and then something produced at the end of it.

 The two older children have been learning alongside me. There are constant cries of "Nenek" (my mum's Indonesian grandma name) as we drop stitches and create peculiar knots and whoopsies. The sound of eight needles clicking is wonderfully musical.

Whilst we fumbled, Nenek quickly whipped these up. Now I'm working on a pair and so is the Big Bowerbird. I've also made a cowl, which is basically a scarf sewn together (pics to come). Loving finding my inner Nanna.

Mum has also got the sewing machine out with me. It's been languishing in it's box since I purchased it months ago. I think I was a little afraid of it. There has been much repairing and a little wonky embellishing, don't laugh, it has character.

Approaching 40 and finally the knitting penny is dropping, never mind the kids are picking it up just as fast.