I have been lax about this blog, indeed I have.  I haven't even posted a photo of that SunnyMonterey shawl post-blocking.  Here it is: 

And the back view:

The pattern is from Alison Jepson Hyde's Wrapped in Comfort.  It's the Monterey shawl.  She says, if you look at the shawl pattern upside down, it looks like jellyfish.  Like this:

Episode 9 of Knitajourney Podcast is uploading today.  The theme is "Story" and I talked a bit about knitting a story, or starting with a story and ending with a knitted object.   I said I would post a photo of something I knit using this process (this is where the courage comes in). 

So, the words were:  tinkle, loyal, warmth, hope, apple, Orion, sun, ladder, violet.  And the sentence I came up with is:  Loyal Orion's violet twinkle: hope's ladder to the sun-apple's warmth.  That was my beginning, and here is where that journey ended:

And you can see Orion, and the color, violet, and the ladder of hope, and the sun-apple up in the corner.  And though he wasn't part of the story, the constellation of Sirius right behind the hunter -- where else could he be?  If my photography skills were keen, you would be able to make out the beads on the triangl-y bits of hope on the ladder-steps, and also see the sparkling of Orion's stars.  And though I'm seeing reflected that concrete thought process that is so much a part of my character, still I'm pleased with the results.  I also fell in love with the tweedy yarn that forms the background of this piece.  I can't remember what it is (sorry).  In person, it's a deep teal.  I made this piece while I was in a teal blue / sea green sort of phase.  The hope bits are in a sea green sort of colorway, of Waikiki.     
Looking at this photo makes me want to play with yarn. 

Episode 5 of Knitajourney Podcast went up a couple of days ago.  I talked about relaxing with our knitting.  And snowbiking. 

This is going to be a year of shawls, for sure.  I have just finished SunnyMonterey, though it has not yet been blocked:

It's the Monterey Shawl from Alison Hyde's Wrapped in Comfort.  I sure do love this Alpaga yarn, from Plassard.  It is no longer being manufactured.  Sigh.  I have nearly two skeins leftover of this lovely golden, sunny yellow.  I'm considering getting my hands on some brown apaga and double knitting something warm and beautiful.

This one is in progress:

It's Lliclla, from Helen Hamann's Andean Inspired Knits.  I'm using the leftovers from the asymmetrical cardigan.  I'm cutting it a bit close on the yarn.  I will need one more skein of the gold color.  A friend of mine is making the same shawl, and she tells me she will line it.  I'm now thinking about that, also. 

Upcoming is another shawl for a friend, made of this beautiful stuff:

Yep, Alpaga again.  Alison Hyde says in her book, you can make up your own pattern for a shawl just by inserting your own lace patterns for yoke and body.  So that's what ahma gonna do.  I will probably have one skein left over.  Do I not need something to put this with, also?  

Then there's the wool-silk-cashmere pictured in the previous post.  It will soon begin its journey from balled string to drapey shawl.  Something Orenburg-inspired.  I have the pattern worked out.  It's the needle size I haven't yet committed to.  I don't know that I want to spend a good chunk of the upcoming year with a shawl on size 2s.  Size 4s is comforting to me.

That's four shawls.   I'm not addicted, no.  And I'm not in a rut, either.  I like to think that I'm just gleefully lost in the wonderworld of shawls. 

I finished this garment I'm calling Silky Swing.  It's a swing coat sort of design.  I used Elsebeth Lavold's Silky Wool.  It is a beautiful yarn.  A tiny cable pattern gives this a wonderful texture.  The pattern is "Swing Jacket with Leaf Border" from Classic Elite Yarns #830, sweaters knit for Devon Silk/Wool Tweed (a yarn that no longer exists, I'm told). 

The sweater still needs some sort of closure on the top.  I'm considering a Nikki Epstein-style I-cord frog closure, though I'm also thinking about a metal frog.  It's blocking now and has that mmmmm-raw-silk smell.   
Something else that smells like silk:

This ball of wool-silk-cashmere.  It was saved from the landfill by a good friend who offered (unbidden) to clean it for me.  I cannot mention the CATastrophe (hint, hint) that befell this yarn.  I thought it was lost forever.  I was telling this friend about the reason for my tragic sadness, told her the whole sad story, and she told me she could get the smell out.  I didn't believe her, but she was keen to help.  I delivered the yarn double-bagged to her the next day.  
A triple-dip and dry at her house, and the yarn smells good as new.  It has that silk smell again, and not at all like cat . . .  

For the past few years this yarn has been waiting in my stash to be knit up into an Orenburg Lace shawl.  Recent events have convinced me that I must make the shawl.  No more excuses.  It will be a year of shawls for me.   

Here is the front of my Long Asymmetrical Cardigan, from Andean Inspired Knits by Helen Hamann:

My knitting photography skills need some work.  The wrinkles, I am embarassed to say, occurred post-blocking.  I left the sweater in a bag, and now it needs re-blocking. 

Back view:

This was a fun pattern to knit.  Each side is knit from the cuff up, then stitches are added on for the front and back, which are knit simultaneously.  Add the front shaping and you have a recipe for fun.  One side color changes in stripes, and the other side multicolor intarsia.  Then there is the [optional!] embroidered piece that is cross-stitched onto aida cloth before being sewn onto the front of the cardigan.  It was optional, sure, but I thought the sweater needed the structure of this piece across the front.  It also provides the third design element in terms of the colorwork.  I very much like the design of the panel.  Lookee:

What's not to love about that?  The hours of stitching through the aida cloth, perhaps?  But it was worth it to add that design, reminiscent of andean textiles, into the finished piece.  Add a fantastical button:

and you have a sweater.  A finished object:  knitted, pieced, faced, tacked, embroidered, embellished, washed, blocked.  But if you look more closely (which is hard to do because of fuzziness) at the bottom of the shortest cinnamon-colored stripe, against the shortest dark brown stripe -- right at the front-center of the sweater, you might see a little problem.  A dropped stitch.  Dropped.  Front-and-center, dropped.  I couldn't believe it. 

Why oh why did I leave this thing in the bag?  Probably because, just when I thought it was complete there is something to be mended.  And not only the dropped stitch.  There are places - many of them - where the color of the yarn tacking down the facing shows through the sweater.  Yes, again Up Front.  And Center.  

What did Brando say?  "The Horror . . . The Horror!"     

A peek at Lake Superior through the icy railing along the Lakewalk here in Duluth. 

On today's podcast, I talk about the Big Lake in A Bit of My Town.  It's a new segment.

Lookee:

This is a view of the entry point of the canal, from the vantage point of the Lakewalk.  The fuzzy shadow straight across is Superior, Wisonsin.  The frozen object in the foreground is a crib that washed up onto the lakeshore during a winter storm last year.  Lake Superior was calm on the day we walked along.  More about that on the podcast. 

Also on the podcast, my lack of sock knitting, and  a small sock-yarn dilemma.

Hope you like it.