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



Sugar Plum

 

 Dear friends,

 

The hours of daylight are at their shortest as we approach the winter solstice and again, as with each passing year, I find that "carpe diem" and "wonder" become two faces of the same thought.   The children and I feed off each others' desire for enchantment and, in our own rough and ready way, we cultivate delight with true hearts and giddy minds.  I observe them from the corner of my eye endlessly drawing, colouring, cutting and see that their need to embellish the everyday humdrum mirrors my own. It's a time for giving and I have lost count of how many handmade cards Angélique has gifted her fellow classmates.  On complimenting Angélique's maternelle teacher on her impressive array of sparkly pullovers this week, she retorted that the short and often grey December days begged light in any shape or form, even in a handful of glitter.  She is right, of course, but in my mind the bleak weather makes little difference and, when the mornings are frosty and the late-rising sun bright, I watch the pinks, mauves and grey of the winter sky unfold behind the intricate shadow puppet trees and imagine frost-flowers, silently unfolding before me on the windowpanes.

 

I also love the day dawning in heavy freezing fog when the garden seems to float and everything turns to silver.  I'm almost disappointed when the swirling mists clear and daylight invades once more but I leave the Christmas tree's twinkling lights on and recall the colourful candles poised heavily on my childhood tree waiting to come alive with the strike of a match. The children and I are praying for snow.  We crave the peace and silence it grants.  I'm knitting a stole with a yarn named Snowbound in the hope that the températures will drop and our world will be white once more.  The yarn refects the exact grey of a heavy winter sky.

 

I have knit another hat; a second Rosewater by Tin Can Knits, this time with Madelinetosh's Sugar Plum colourway.  If many of us remain unsure of the original definition for 'sugar plum' it has with time crystallised into the definition of the excitement and childlike wonder of Christmas.  In the 1600s, as 'sugar plum' passed into general usage, it came to have its own assoiated meanings quite apart from fruit.  If your mouth was full of sugar plums, it meant that you spoke sweet, and possibly deceitful, words.  If you stuffed another's mouth with sugar plums, that meant a sop or bribe which served to shut someone up.  The Oxford English Dictionary also spells out that throughout the centuries 'plum' came to mean something desirable.  Surely, that is what this precious period of Advent spells out too?  Children's desire mingled with the hope of adults accompanied by a resounding refrain of 'Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men'.

All the pictures of Paris above are taken from our old and very beautiful neighbourhood; la Galérie Vivienne in central Paris.  The picture below, fellow knitters and teashop enthusiasts, is the one and only L'Oisive Thé, situated in the 13th arrondissement in Paris, which I finally set foot in for the first time fortnight ago.  Vibrant, cheery, stuffed with fabulous yarn, books and teas, suffice to say I have been dreaming of this street corner of inspiration ever since.  Aimée, the American/French owner holds the most amazing workshops on a regular basis.  I have watched, over on Instagram, with fascination the visits of designers Gudrun Johnston and Stephen West unfold and plan to be part of the fun in 2015.  Go take a look; it will bring a smile to your faces.

 

I have also included two hares - Miss Hyacinth and Edmund Elf - as there have been a lot of hares being created behind the scenes in preparation for Christmas.  My notes for my Sugar Plum hat may be found here.  Mickaël kept laughing at me whilst he took the pictures above as it appeared I was praying to the baubles.  I see his point!

I wonder what you are hoping for during this last week before Christmas?

 

A bientôt,

 

Stephanie

 

 

 

 

Oak Tree With Fairy Lights













For those of you who are not yarn literate 'Worsted' is the knitter's version of creamy rice pudding and apple crumble; instant gratification and comfort knitting.  In the constant toing and froing of everyday life, with a half-term journey to England with my two youngest children thrown in, I turned my back for a short while on lace-knitting and opted for a delightfully simple and quick pattern by Tin Can Knits, inspired by the mossy rocks and dripping rocks of the Pacific Northwest forests, named Old Growth.  Ever since knitting my Rosewater hat in early spring, also by Tin Can Knits, I've been following her latest patterns with interest.  I like the fact that this cardigan may be knitted for all sizes from newborn to fully grown woman and it looks perfectly lovely on little boys too.

 

And the yarn?  Oh, the yarn!  Julie Asselin made a batch of speckled yarns, which were sold by Paris's most enchanting tearoom/yarn shop, L'Oisive Thé, and flew off the shelves like hot cakes.  This colourway, 'It's My Party'  though predominantly green has many spots of gentle colour which are as beautiful as the Northern Lights.  Once soaked it becomes soft and squishy and Angélique has not taken it off since.  She particularly likes the fat 1970s pale green buttons.  My Ravelry notes for this cardigan (which I have named Oak Tree With Fairy Lights) are here.

 

Since our return from England a few days ago there have been brilliant blue skies setting off the yellow vines which,  now stripped of grapes, bask in the sunlight.  This is the colour which surrounds us from all sides.  There is red too. Bushes turning from sienna to scarlet and a few brave red roses enjoying the afternoon warmth like the few remaining butterflies swooping overhead and disappearing against a backdrop of golden leaves.  I think it's important to fill my children's lives with colour when the evenings draw in and Angélique, instinctively, clamours to pick flowers and so we bring confetti-colored zinnias and Brown-Eyed Susans into our home and make small wild flowers posies to grace our often cluttered table.



 I am hoping to write more frequently here over the next weeks.  Before I leave you I would like to share:

 

This scrumptious recipe which tastes of Autumn.  The children absolutely love it!

 

The most sublime Parisian perfume shop which recreates 1920s scents.  If you read the descriptions you will understand how much poetry there is in each glass bottle.  Imagine a perfum which conveys the atmosphere of a seventeenth-century abbey or Louis XV's Versailles gardens?  Beware!  They have an online shop.

 

Finally, this new (to me) garden writer  "Only a freehold will do, because when you plant a tree you want to think of its roots stretching down and down for ever, and its branches reaching up and up for all time, till in the end the blossom mingles with the stars."  Beverley Nichols' charming prose about the love and toil he poured into his ramshackle, eighteenth-century house and gardens will see me through the autumn evenings.



I wish you all a wonderful week full of simple pleasures and a little magic.

 

Stephanie