Living With Fear And Blue Skies

Dear readers,

It's hard to live with fear when the skies are blue but neither the headpounding dread nor the limpid skies showed signs of abating for the entire week.  I had to learn, therefore, the almost unbearable lesson of living with a birdsong filled world when my greatest wish was to sink into dark, undisturbed sleep for several days and nights.

 Last saturday night I discovered a lump in my left breast.  The impact on my stress levels was immediate.  Images of my youngest daughter, barely four and motherless, flitted through my mind and I moaned to myself whilst lying in bed 'Oh my God'.  Ironically, like many of you, I had recently read Kate's post which had left its mark on me.  If I am honest I would say that my (more or less) regular breast check was more thorough than usual this time thanks to Kate's well-written words.  Sunday was hard.  My usual swim with Tristan did little to raise my troubled thoughts and on Monday morning once all the children were at school I picked up the 'phone with trembling hands and dialed my local doctor's number.  Two hours later I sat in her surgery and watched her smile turn to a troubled frown as soon as I uttered the word 'breast lump'.  After examining me she urged her secretary to make an urgent appointment for a mammogram and scan.  Thursday afternoon at 3.15pm was fixed and as I said my goodbyes and smiled weakly at the secretary I descended the stairs out into the brilliant sunshine and wondered how on earth I would survive four days of waiting.

 And much as though I would like to share with you, dear readers, my advice on how to endure heightened stress levels I must confess that little helped soothe my stiff back and excuriating headaches.  Neither spring flowers nor sunshine lifted my spirits.  Knitting Tristan's springtime pullover kept me focused at times. Caring for my children with a serene face and gentle words kept me more or less together.  As often as I could I would allow myself to drift into light sleep; anxiety is exhausting as many of you must know.  Certainly I felt loved and grateful when friends called and texted me with kind offers and gestures.  But the stress levels rose as the week wore on.

 Thursday afternoon after an hour of thorough tests carried out by caring medical professionals I was given the all clear diagnosis I had hardly dared hope for.  And had I, for one second, whilst lying there under the dimmed lights in that clinic entertained the thoughts that all this anguish might have been for nothing the specialist's sad words cut through my fuzzy head: "You did well to come.  I see too many women in their forties with breast cancer."

 So, to echo Kate's simple message please, dear ladies, check you breasts some time soon.  This blog of mine is only small but if my heartfelt words may be heard by one person at least then I will be content.

This sweet musician of mine and his siblings are reason enough to be mindful of such health issues, don't you think?

Tristan wears his second High Water ready for spring.

The yarn is Madelinetosh Vintage in the beautiful colourways Bloomsbury Blue and Grasshopper.

My Ravelry notes are here.

My dear husband took the pictures on this beautiful spring sunday!  Do you see the wild periwinkle flowers in the last picture?

Finally I am joining in wth Laura's The Year In Books with my choice for the March.  Having enjoyed Kate Forsyth's enthralling novel, Bitter Greens  I could not wait to read this version of the Grimm brothers' lives and their neighbour in Kassel, Dortchen Wild.  I must confess I am more than halfway through it already! 

I am also joining in with Karen's Sunlit Sunday for the second time!

I wish you all a wonderful start to the week and I will return wth a much cheerier post soon.

A bientôt,

Stephanie

Rapunzel

THE TOWER
 The Rock of Manerba, Lake Garda, Italy - April 1595

A white flame of horror coursed through her.  'What are you doing?  What's happened to my hair?'

Slowly, [Margherita] began to realise that the hair was not all the same colour.  Some of the tresses were more red than gold, some more gold than red.  Some hung in tight twists and ringlets, some were smooth and silky, and others formed soft loose curls.  Each flowed and coiled into the next, like a river that ran one moment in quick rapids, then fell in a foaming roar, before winding in lazy loops into a tranquil pool.

'Hold still,' the sorceress said.  She was kneeling beside the bed, a long curved needle in one hand, threaded with fine golden filaments, a long flow of bronze-coloured hair in the other.  Each time she bound the hair, she chanted:

By the power of three times three, I bind you to me.

Thou may not speak of me, nor raise a hand to me

Nor stir from this place where I have cast thee.

It was as if her words wrapped chains around Margherita's wrists and ankles and tongue, fettering her.  She could not move or speak, though whimpers of terror struggled in her throat.

Kate Forsyth, Bitter Greens, p. 136.

Last summer, an amazing young lady named Claire, sent me a plump parcel full of exquisite yarns, the colours of which had been inspired by a card of Rapunzel my children had chosen for her. After a few months of casting on and unravelling a variety of promising patterns which I had hoped would do justice to the Rosy Cochineal silk and baby camel yarn I finally turned, for the third time, to Dani Sunshine’s Vintage Bouquet for which you will find my Ravelry notes here. Whilst knitting this shawl I embarked on a fascinating voyage into the origins of the Rapunzel fairytale thanks to Kate Forsyth’s, intriguing novel ‘Bitter Greens’ which, to my great delight, bought me, via late sixteenth-century Venice, full circle to the court of Louis XIV - the seat of my beloved late seventeenth-century aesthetics research.

I learned that the first version, written in 1634 by Giambattista Basile, was entitled Petrosinella; after the heroine's mother's craving for parsley not salad.  Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force included her version, Persinette, in a collection of fairy tales published in 1697 during her bleak exile from the court of Versailles.  The final tale which most of us are familiar with is, of course, the Grimm brothers' Rapunzel which appeared in 1812

In Bitter Greens Charlotte-Rose de La Force's story becomes interwoven with the original strands of the Rapunzel tale.  She was an independently–minded woman from a noble family who caused several scandals in her quest to live a life that was self–determined. After publishing satirical works concerning King Louis XIV and an elopement with a minor Charlotte-Rose was exiled to a convent where she wrote her collection of fairy tales and a series of popular historical novels.  It is not hard to see why the story of a maiden locked away in a tower would appeal to her although scholars are puzzled as to how she gained access to the original Italian tale.

Instructive though it might be Kate Forsyth's novel is also the perfect companion for long winter evenings curled up in an armchair by the fire.  Three women, three lives and three stories are braided together in a compelling tale.  Have you read it?  If so I would love to have your opinion!  For those who might like to read the original Petrosinella I strongly recommend Jack Zipes's translation found in this book. Unfortunately, I cannot find an English translation of the French Persinette which is to be found in this collection.  I am pretty sure I will be laying my hands soon on this recent publication about the Rapunzel tradition.

And those boots?  They are, of course, the exquisite work of my favourite shoemaker, Ren from Fairysteps.  Unique, soft, light and built to last for many years.  I am absolutely certain I won't be bumping into another pair of feet in France as well shod as mine!  Rapunzel would have been grateful for such a comfortable pair of shoes once she broke free from her hellish confinement.

And because one fairytale often leads to another, here is the French artist, Miss Clara's, most recent work of art; The Princess And The Pea which is now available in English.

My most important message to each and every one of you, dear readers, is A VERY HAPPY, PEACEFUL, and MAGICAL New Year!  Oh, the undeniable thrill of a blank book waiting to be written.  Which begs the question; do you have any dreams for 2014?

Warmest wishes,

Stephanie 

ps With many thanks to Héloïse who posed under the rainclouds as a rather cheerful Rapunzel on New Year's Eve.  We had fun, didn't we?

ps I've just noticed that my shoes are featuring on Ren's Fairysteps header over here.