Venetian

Dear friends,

There will be few words again today.  The betrayal, malevolence and contempt I have been subjected to in my home since the early weeks of this year have made creative thinking almost impossible for the time being.  I hesitated before putting those words down but I know my situation, however painful and frightening, is sadly a common one.  True friends and family -and perhaps too an inner strength - have saved me from floundering and have reminded me on an almost daily basis that there is light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.   I have trained myself to focus solely on love, light and goodness and to turn away from all demeaning thoughts and to remain steadfast in my relationship with those I hold most dear.  There will be release from this intensely stressful time at the end of this month although I realise other challenges lie ahead.  Whilst I am a sensitive and anxious woman I also remain a fighter.

I took the pictures below of Héloïse (who turns nineteen at the end of April) a few weeks ago under a steady drizzle.  We chose this beautiful, rich colourway, Venetian, by Madelinetosh for her latest pullover; a pattern by Tin Can Knits called Prairie Fire: some of you might remember this version I made for Angélique last autumn? I look back on the hour spent here with her under the rain, surrounded by damp, blossoming trees with a quiet sense of joy and gratitude.  Héloïse has been a steadfast source of kindness throughout these times.  The least she deserves is a handknit pullover!

And here is Héloïse in her very first minor television role in a French series most fittingly cast as an angel!

 Warmest wishes to you all.  I hope your spring is both peaceful and enjoyable.

 

Stephanie x



The Double-Edged Sword

I had decided this was going to be my last post.  I gave myself time to reflect and whilst my mind was saying one thing my heart was telling me another.  So what if we are all busy bouncing between family, real life and the evergrowing expanse of social networking?  Never mind if this small space of mine is attracting less comments than before.  When it comes to the crunch I cannot forget the valuable connection made with precious souls through this blog and theirs.  Wonderful, inspring ladies have expressed my mixed feelings so much more eloquently than I could, both here and here.  I will, for the time being, stay here with gratitude for the friendships and inspiration offered to me in these past three years.

 

September has been glorious; continuous mellow, dusty heat with ripening apples, pears and grapes.  It has also been hard.  A precious member of my family was unexpectedly taken ill two weeks ago causing us all to scurry hither and thither, drawing ever closer in love.  I've been left with feelings of gratitude for my parents and siblings, again, but fear of inevitable, impending mortality too.  And that is why, perhaps, this September I have finally put my finger on my usual reticence to embrace autumn.  As the meadows and countryside change colour around us we find the shimmery hues of autumn leaves thrilling.  But in a sense they dupe us for they signal death and disintegration.  In time they will become fragile and return to dust.   Leaves sublime from one beautiful state to another - much as some religions tell us we will - and as they lose their green life they bloom with urgent colours.  "Carpe Diem', they seem to whisper.  This early autumn I hear their message loud and clear.  Life is precious and I intend to honour its beauty in my humble, happy manner.

 

I leave you with a palette of greens, yellows and plums.  Happy autumn friends!  Because, despite my sombre words, it really is a precious season.



 Featured above:

 

Alaria Shawl knit with divine Skein yarn Merino Cashmere Fingering in Sunspot.  My Ravelry notes are here.

 

Mademoiselle Apple And BlackBerry Crumble who is off to start a new life in Australia.

 

Mickäel and I are off to Marrakech next weekend for a short stay.  I hope to return with a few pictures to share with you all.

 

Warmest wishes to you all.

 

Stephanie

Clad In Blossom

 



Few words today, friends.  Yesterday Héloïse went to school, her heart in her mouth, to find out her Baccalauréat examination results.  Would you believe she scored a general average of 19.23 out of 20?  Not only did she obtain the highest marks in the school - Mention Très Bien + avec Félicitations du Jury - but is believed to be in the top hundred in France.  Heartfelt hugs were shared with so many teachers and I must confess I cried with shock and delight right there in the middle of all those anxious pupils and parents.  We arrived home in the early hours of this morning after celebrating with friends my beautiful daughter's success but now, unfortunately, Héloïse is nursing a very painful throat.  She really needs to rest after the past few weeks of strain, I believe.

 

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Although it is now high summer and porcelain pink Pierre Ronsard roses are gracing local high walls, paying tribute to our local Renaissance poet, I have been inspired by the exquisite apple blossom wreath which sweet Michele created for me.  Do you recall the crown of wild violets Angélique was wearing in early spring?  Michele's work is truly lovely and one flowery wreath never seems to be enough!  This artist's home overlooks a beautiful apple tree orchard which, in late spring, is cloudy with the frilliest, candiest of all pinks and creams.  I think she has captured the magical beauty of blossom to perfection; don't you? 

 

In my formidable yarn stash a few delicious skeins of silky alpaca Old Maiden Aunt sport weight in a peachy hued Blossom colourway were begging to be turned into a simple, delicate top.   Leah Thibault's Sakura Cardigan was deemed the perfect pattern.*  Peaceful knitting with the rustic luxury of Old Maiden Aunt to accompany me during the intense few weeks in late spring and early summer.

 

My Ravelry notes may be found right here.

 

The school summer holidays have started today and we are all more than ready for them.  We will be around over the course of July, greeting friends into our humble home, and away in August to Brittany.  I'd love to learn about your hopes and dreams for this summer!

 

Warmest wishes to you all,

 

Stephanie

 

* We'll never forget our sweet Sakura.

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.

Celebrating Change

Dear readers,

 Two e-mails of note arrived in our mail boxes this week.  The first stirred up feelings of intense maternal pride and the second, well, it just made me plain happy.

On Tuesday, whilst waiting for Héloïse to arrive home after dusk from her theatre class, I hesitantly logged into her account, as she had pleadingly requested the night before, and saw the mail she'd been waiting for.  Natural Sciences Interview, it read.  How could I not read on?  And then I jumped up and danced before my my younger children's surprised eyes: 'She's got an interview at Cambridge University', I shrieked!  Needless to say we all danced for quite a while after that.  And downed champagne too!  The interview will be taking place on Tuesday 17th December at Trinity Hall.

The second e-mail quietly landed in my mailbox yesterday.  It was short and terribly sweet.  My Phd thesis supervisor wrote that she would be delighted for me to return to complete my Phd thesis the following academic year.

 And with those few lines I felt as though I had returned home.

 Shortly after Angélique was born, almost four years ago, I was obliged to put my thesis to one side.  It was frustrating and it was the right thing to do at the time.  I cannot express how much I love my field of study - Baroque aesthetics - and how thrilled I am to have this chance to finish.  It is necessary too.  I have noticed the quality of my writing slipping and I need the guidance of my WONDERFUL supervisor who is brilliant and meticulous; two qualities we do not share!  It will be a tough, glorious year and I am so very excited.  So, change is afoot although it is not imminent.  It will change my perspective on creating too; of that I am certain.

To celebrate, in particular, Héloïse's good news, I slipped Miss Twinkle Toes onto my shop shelves today.  The last few weeks have been ridiculously and wonderfully busy with customer orders and I am happy to have had the time to put this little lady at least on sale before Christmas.  She is my last ballet-themed hare and is a bit of a celebration in herself: pink silk - called Rose Cherubin and sparkly linen purchased from Paris, ballet shoes and stars embroidered on her ankles with silver and silk threads.  My favourite thing was using The Uncommon Thread's wispy fingering merino yarn in the fairytale colourway; Spumoni to make her ballet wrap-cardigan.  It makes for delightful small-scale knitting on 2.75mm double-pointed needles!

If you think you know somebody who might like to give her a home you may find her right over here.

 I like change, mostly, although some would say I am not always so good at dealing with the unexpected.  How about you?  Do you revel or flee from change?  Have you made decisions already about next year?  I would like to read about them, big or small.

A bientôt,

Stephanie

Dandelion Clocks

 

This is the time when everything drops into the earth.  In spring there is an upward movement all around one, with a lift in plants and trees.  Now it is the time of weight, when seed pod and berry, fruit and leaf fall and return to the earth.  It is truly the Fall, a lovelier word for this season than autumn.

Clare Leighton, Four Hedges (Little Toller Books: Stamford, 2010), p107.

Seedpods decorate the wayside and gardens with an Orient of riches.  They sit atop long stems and, weighing more than the leaves, rise to a certain architectural beauty.  Dry brown purses, spindly candelabras, round pepper shakers and round-hipped cups; with one thwack they scatter seeds higgledy-piggledy, sprinkling a chaotic hoard on the ground beside each plant.

Don't you think the dried-up flowers and chattery pods of some plants look almost unworldly?  Queen Anne's lace pods look like ethereal birds' nests when they are closed.  Asters form fluffy pods and dandelion clocks full moons of silky parachutes.  Autumn may be the season during which everything falls to the ground, transformed with time into decaying matter, but dandelion seeds, with one puff, become windborne, propelled into a floating trance which I almost envy; a far cry from the squashed damsons and decaying quinces I tread into the sodden pathway on my daily walks with Gaspard.

 I may be on the constant lookout for flashes of colour during these autumnal walks but I am, in truth, craving subdued hues these days, a little like the drab, so eloquently described by dear Knitsofacto Annie on her latest post entitled A Dingy Day.  During my evenings of knitting last week - such a treat - I snubbed my fabulous stash of mostly kaleidoscopic yarns and reached out for a single skein of Madelinetosh Merino Light in the delicate colourway Calligraphy.

It was time to create something for the eldest daughter of the household (our feisty youngest is very well served in the knitted garment department) and the beautiful cowl pattern, Dandelion Days, won instant favour with Héloïse.  Not in the lustrous yellow of the original pattern however but in the colour of dandelion clocks.  It is a perfect pattern with four eighteen row repeats, once the eyelet edging is completed, each row divided into twelve clusters of sixteen stitches.  A perfect balance between varied and meditative knitting.

My Ravelry notes for Dandelion Clocks may be found here. 

On a fraught day of university application deadlines during those first cold-ridden days of half-term (I can truthfully say that the final year of Baccalauréat preparation in France is intensive and exhausting) we grabbed an hour to be outside in the waning sunshine.  Both mother and daughter were pale and a little on edge - it was one of those days - but Héloïse graciously succeeded in shaking off a day's accumulation of tension infront of the eager camera.

Not all days are plain sailing, you will agree, but I choose to recall the glint of the October sunlight on my eldest daughter's hair instead of my unnecessarily sharp words: her pleasure whilst watching this cowl blocking on her bed instead of the nagging sadness that I am not in England with my parents on their respective birthdays this week.  Surely, in retrospect, the good moments prevail over the not-so-good?  I am mostly endeavouring, these days, to find the balance between the thrill and the inevitable wrench of my first-born daughter leaving our home in a few fleeting months.

So here's to those few months and savouring them to the full before this silken dandelion seed of a wonderful daughter floats off to take root somewhere else.

Before I leave I wish to share my huge admiration for the courage of this lady who has, through the past exceedingly difficult months, never ceased to capture and share her own unique and marvellous sense of beauty.  And finally to express my gratitude for another inspiring woman who always makes me feel ridiculously happy after reading each and every one of her blog posts.  Thank you, Lori, for the precious giveaway yarn and sea glass you sent from California to France.  Be patient a little while I transform your sea-coloured yarn into something worthy of its beauty.  Pictures to follow!

A bientôt,

Stephanie