A Maine state of mind

Claire and I just returned from a few days in Maine. Yes, it's March, I know. She had an interview at a college in Bar Harbor, with the rest of our time spent enjoying the quiet winter beauty of the Maine coast. Oh, and a few yarn stores, too.
Of course.

Here are a few pictures of the campus. It's right on Frenchman's Bay, on Mt. Desert Island, just a stone's throw from Acadia National Park. I can't think of a more gorgeous setting for ANYTHING.

And yes, this all of these pictures are ON CAMPUS. Amazing.

College of the Atlantic offers only one major to its 400 students: Human Ecology. What the heck does that mean? Anything you want to self-design into a personal program.

The college grows many of the veggies used for meals on their own organic farm. The balance of the school's food is purchased from other Maine organic farmers. We had lunch on campus one day, and the food was fantastic! The entree was a pork tenderloin with fennel roasted with a teriyaki glaze, mashed sweet potatoes, fresh sesame green beans, steamed broccoli that was as good as a three star restaurant offering(read crisp-tender and very fresh), homemade whole wheat bread, and dense, crunchy, uber-dark-chocolatey oat bars. Not a pizza or a burger in sight. Who'da thunk?

Bar Harbor is a wonderful place once the crowds and summer visitors are gone. We got to know one of the owners at Ben and Bill's Chocolates, Yvonne, VERY well. Originally from Ireland, her rich accent and amazing expertise at all things chocolate AND TEA were just the ticket for us. It's so hard to get a good cup of tea at a restaurant or shop: No one seems to know (or care) that the water must be freshly boiled to make a decent tea. You can't make good tea from a Bunn coffeemaker, or a decanter of hot water on a warming plate, thanks very much. But Yvonne knew exactly what I was looking for when I asked for a "proper cup". Living above the shop, she dashed upstairs to find tea from her own personal stash! We were rewarded with huge cups of Irish Breakfast tea, perfectly brewed and delicious. We went back twice a day, every day, for tea and a few of her decadent chocolate offerings: Dark Chocolate Raspberry Creams, Buttercreams, Turtles, Maple Walnut Creams, Wintergreen Patties, Deep Chocolate Truffles, Coffee Creams, Bark, Honeycomb, Chocolate Walnut Fudge, Penuche, and more. That was only the tip of the iceberg of her offerings. Every time we'd walk past the store, she was hard at work, dipping and crafting chocolates or making fudge. She always waved when she saw us, and I think she must have recognized my bright yellow parka; it's pretty unique and hard to miss. Her chocolates are fabulous, so if you visit, you must go and savor them. For all the chocolates that we bought, not too many made it back to Austin with us, though. We just couldn't resist.

My birthday fell right in the middle of our visit, so to celebrate we spent the day traipsing around a wide area visiting local yarn stores. At Bee's in Bar Harbor, we encountered the lethal combination of hand-dipped chocolates and yarn. The shop is tiny and cram-packed with yarn, cards, handknit sweaters and an old-fashioned candy counter. There's no place to sit and knit -- barely enough room to maneuver in -- but the owner is friendly and helpful, whatever your needs or desires.

THE LILAC LILY was the highlight of our day, though. Located in Southwest Harbor, it has a wonderful selection of Maine artisan yarns and a wide selection of labels that are well known nationally. It started to snow while we were there, and Leslie, the welcoming and gregarious shopkeeper, invited us to stay and knit with her. Another regular patron, Nancy, came in and joined us, and we knit, talked Ravelry, and watched the snow come down in big, lacy flakes.

Back in Bar Harbor that night, we had dinner at Geddy's, which is lit by the silhouette of a moose on the roof. We dined on the best clam chowder ever, giant lobsters, and slices of sinfully good wild Maine blueberry pie for dessert. Then we trekked over to see Yvonne for our nightly chocolates and tea. One of the best birthdays ever!

We explored a little of Acadia NP one day, though many of the park roads are closed for the winter. Echo Lake, with the famous carriage road circling its perimeter, was frozen solid and deserted, in stark contrast to the crowds, traffic, and congestion of summer.


On departure day, we checked out of hotel at 7 a.m. for the 4.5 hour drive back to the Manchester, NH airport. We built in an extra hour and a half for a stop at Halcyon Yarn in Bath, ME, which was not much of a detour for us. It's a huge old warehouse, stuffed floor to ceiling with 10' tall aisles of bins loaded with skeins, hanks, and cones. There's even an entire aisle of roving for spinners. That's just on the first floor. You're looking at an entire aisle of Jaggerspun on your right. ------------------------------------------------>
I won't torture you by telling you there are also aisles for Harrisville Designs, Casco Bay yarns, Brown Sheep yarns, Bartlett, sock yarn, and much more.

On the second level, there are looms, wheels, and every spinning thing made or known to mankind. Claire bought her first drop spindle here, and a cloud of roving. Now she just needs time to perfect her technique.


View of the sunrise from our hotel room

Appalcahian State University Fiber Program

Of all the schools we visited, our first one, Appalachian State University in Boone, NC has the most beautiful setting, hands down. Home to roughly 10,000 students, it nestles into the hillsides of the Blue Ridge Mountains at 3,000'+ elevation, with amazing views. It's a good 6 to 10 degrees cooler here than the base of the mountain. It's a campus where walking is a pleasure. And it's a darn good thing, since you will do a lot of walking. One thing is for sure: You will stay in shape.

We made a reservation for the generic campus tour, but our group of 43 was so large it was impossible to hear the student guide most of the time. Tours begin in the admissions suite auditorium to view a slick video designed to make prospective students warm and fuzzy. A short Q & A follows, where the admissions rep asks most of the Q's, eliciting raised-hands responses: Who is from NC? Who is from out-of-state? What made you decide to visit? .... etc. Finally, the walking tour begins, which lasts roughly 2 hours. Most of it is what I would call a 'fly-by': our student guide points to buildings, stating their uses as visitors continue along the footpaths. We did visit the Student Center (FYI: there is a spiffy new one under construction, about 70% complete) the library, a dorm and a dorm room (typical: concrete block walls, Cargo-style furniture, central hall baths), business school, bookstore, and student union building. There has been a lot of construction activity here in the past six or seven years: There are at least a dozen new buildings, and campus expansion/updating continues at a brisk clip. It is all beautifully maintained, with a lot of native flowers, colorful annuals, and seasonal perennials in abundance. Try this link for a quick-and-dirty tour.

After the official tour, Claire and I made for the College of Fine and Applied Arts building on our own, home of the fiber arts program. We were in luck: the program's lead faculty member, JEANA KLEIN, was in a studio. (Here is some of her work.) How often does that happen in JULY? She was very cordial and friendly, answering Claire's questions with great detail. We wound up in a neat discussion, concluding forty minutes later with Jeana chronicling some of the future plans for expansion of the program, which includes adding more faculty. This was a great start!

Physically, the large studios are in a 1970's-era building that is undergoing some renovation, and there are an impressive number of looms in all sizes. Jeana noted that students keep their work on 'their' loom(s) for as long as it takes to complete a project, eliminating set-up time each class. Students can come after class hours to work, which means the dead of night as anyone with college kids knows. There is also a dyeing area, and a studio with sewing machines, drafting tables, small looms, quilting frames, spinning equipment. Design is heavily emphasized, including all things knitted, sewn, woven ... whatever students want to pursue. There is also a wonderful study abroad program, high on Claire's list of "must haves".













More about the Appalachian University College of Fine and Applied Arts is on their blog.

Knitting in a Group

If it weren't for learning to knit within a group, I probably wouldn't be knitting today. Why? It's about energy, personalities, and eclectic creative perspectives all coming together forming a synergy with whatever degree of experience each knitter possesses. And experience, as we all know, is an invaluable commodity.

Thursday morning knitting group on my porch

Knitting in a vacuum isn't for me. I'm a social animal, and love a sense of community. Tapping into the expertise and experiences of my knitting sisters saves me a thousand tears and provides a million inspirations. There was one small problem, though: As a relative newcomer to Austin, I didn't know anyone else who knit. Didn't know many other people, period. Once again, I used Ann's advice to utilize the internet for knitting resources, this time looking for a knitting group who were as crazy as I am.

Google is my friend.

Typing 'Austin TX knitting groups' into the search bar, I was feeling lucky. The very first search result produced the Austin Knitting and Crocheting Meetup Group. I immediately joined, attending my first knitting meetup a few days later. About 7 other knitters showed up that chilly November Sunday, and I knew I'd found the kinship that would keep me interested and juiced. Skill levels of members run the gamut, all of them were friendly and helpful. On my first day, I was the only one there who was brand new to the craft.

Saturdays at Central Market

Many meetups later, I found I was not the least experienced person in the group. Some newcomers come to learn from scratch, and are always made to feel welcome. They are encouraged and supported, and, little by little, will spread their wings as I have, leaping into projects they wouldn't have dreamed of trying on their own.

What better way to learn techniques for more complex projects? Who better to get great ideas from? Why, from kindred spirits, of course. Tackling my first sweater, my first bag, my first tank top, my first shawl were all due to the courage that knitting within this supportive community provides. We laugh, share, and the gorilla glue holding us together is the passion for exquisite fibers and beautiful objects.

In a little over a year, this group has grown from a handful to over 300 members. If you live in Austin, come join us. If you are visiting the area, we'd love to have you come, too!

Two North Austin Meetup members

This post is inspired by and dedicated to one of the very first Austin Knitting and Crocheting Meetup Group members I met, Amy. Through my many trevails and knitting foibles, Amy is among those I consult (harrass?), patiently showing me techniques that mystify me, and rescuing me countless times from dropped stitches and pattern disconnects. She's leaving us for the Bay area in northern California, and she will be sorely and profoundly missed here in Austin, not only by me, but ALL of us. (We love you, Amy!)

Amy, one talented knitting/crocheting/designing fiber goddess and Renaissance woman extraordinaire, working on socks of her own design

I can knit, I can purl, but can I get it on the needles?

On returning to Austin from the crossing, I made for the closest store that had yarn, a Hancock Fabrics, which pretty much carry Lion Brand yarn exclusively. So I loaded up on a dozen skeins of LION WOOL, and a few balls of MYSTERY to make the heretofore mentioned scarves. But before the scarves, I was on a mission to make a tea cozy for moi.

Prior to the Austin move, I lived for 22 years in the DC metro area in Maryland. My dear friend and back door neighbor there has relatives in Ireland who make a pilgrimage to the US every couple of years for extended visits. Her Auntie Nyna was a knitter, and she made both of us the most remarkable tea cozies: they were honeycombed in texture, giving them fabulous thermal properties. Her cozy would keep a pot a tea hot for over two hours, better than any carafe on the market. But over the years, my grey and salmon cozy slowly but surely lost it's elasticity and most of the buoyant thick texture that made it function so well. I still have it (sentimental fool that I am) but it is pretty much useless. Auntie Nyna died several years ago, and with her the tea cozy pattern. No one knew anything about it. The first project idea that lept into my head was finding a similar tea cozy pattern and actually and knitting it. Myself.

God Bless the Internet, long may it reign. On the ship, Ann told me there were veritable storehouses of information about knitting on the Internet, including video tutorials and patterns. Once home, a Google search produced not only the tutorials I needed, but also a nearly identical tea cozy pattern! I couldn't believe my luck. It had the same double walled (I call it honeycomb) construction as my Auntie Nyna cozy. The pattern called for worsted weight 100% wool yarn, so I chose two skeins from my new stash: Lion Wool 'goldenrod' and 'winter white', and dove into my first project on my own. Then a real dilemma then arose: I had never learned casting on while under Ann's protective custody. The process just stymied me. Instead of belaboring it and delaying other progress, she merely did it for me ... as did others in our group. A definite disadvantage, but one that I could fix when I returned home with Internet video tutorials, she reasoned.

I sat before the computer armed with needles and yarn, replaying the long tail cast on tutorial over and over and over and OVER. I just couldn't figure it out. My youngest daughter wandered in, and sensing my frustration, came to see why I was so near tears. "Let me try" she said, having never even seen a knitting needle in her short 16 year life. She studied the tutorial a few replays, then took the needles and the goldenrod yarn and cast on 40 perfect stitches!

Another knitaholic was born.

Claire knitting Christmas gifts for friends,
with Sophie placidly snoozing in "her" chair.
Claire made all the baby hats on the table.
She's a natural!

I'm all for role reversal, especially when it's my kids teaching me. Over and over, Claire cast on and demonstrated the necessary finger movements. Once again, I started to feel like a knitting retard, until suddenly it just CLICKED. We were both jubilant. Claire quickly learned to knit and purl, and suddenly we had a new interest we could share.

Once the cozy was on the needles, I was fine. My first solo project had colorwork! Every four stitches I had to change colors, but it wasn't a big deal. Claire made one for her own small teapot in Lion Wool 'lemongrass' and 'purple'. Both cozies were made on size 6 needles. With her usual flair, Claire added two amber glass beads to the tails of her bow.

Happy teapots are cozy teapots. On the left, large cozy in Lion Brand Yarn, LION WOOL. Colors: 'Winter White' and 'Goldenrod'. This is a 48 oz. pot (large!), and I cast on 84 stitches to get the correct size. Right: Small cozy in Lion Brand Yarn, LION WOOL, colors 'Lemongrass' and 'Purple'. Claire cast on 76 stitches for the small teapot.

With My Grateful Thanks ..... to Ann Landau

Catching Ann knitting

One should either be a work of art or wear a work of art.
~ Oscar Wilde

The mogul of style, both literary and artistic, had it right. In a nutshell: If you are going to put all the time and effort into making something, it might as well look good. Something your kids will fight over after you are long gone. Something their kids will look at in awe. Something that, in the murky haze of the distant future, you will sigh and marvel over, given your former visual acuity and the amount of time needed to create such visual and tactile confections.

Welcome to the blog of an intrepid baby boomer who hasn't run of out creative gas just yet. No thanks to me, though: For decades, I was convinced that I couldn't knit, based on the flawed and weirdly misshapen scarf my cousin taught me to knit for my first boyfriend in the late 1960's: God only knows where those holes came from and how it grew to look more like a pyramid than a graceful, drapey rectangle. I was mystified, frustrated, miserable. Couldn't purl, either: Just knit, knit, knit, knit, knit. Boringly. Horribly.

I love to travel, especially by ship. In November 2006, I made a transatlantic crossing from Barcelona to Miami on Celebrity's CENTURY. Fourteen days in toto, with five days exploring wonderful French and Spanish ports. The remaining days were "at sea", a few interlaced between ports, with the rest devoted solely to relaxing and being spoiled while crossing the Atlantic to Miami. That was the plan.

Prior to the crossing, I chimed in on the online roll call board Cruise Critic for those interested in getting to know each other prior to sailing. One post in particular caught my eye: One of my fellow passengers was organizing a charity knitting group to make baby caps and blankets for Warm Up America, to meet on sea day afternoons for a couple of hours. "Even if you don't knit, donations of machine washable acrylic yarn and pairs of size 7 or 8 needles would be greatly appreciated" the post read. She even gave packing tips to make it painless: "Just stuff the skeins in your shoes and in the sleeves of your shirts". Linked to the post were pattern directions supplied by Warm Up America and a list of yarns that would do the trick. I already knew I couldn't knit a lick, but nothing prevented me from being a donor, did it? I dashed off a note with a heads-up to the organizer. She responded with gratitude, and I trundled off to Walmart to buy a dozen skeins of Caron Simply Soft in sweet pastel baby colors and two pairs each of size 7 & 8 needles to give to more industrious and gifted souls than I. She was right: it was easy to stuff the skeins into shoes and shirts.

On the second sea day, it was simple to track down the knitting group in a forward lounge on Deck 12. There were five women assembled, with a tiny, energetic whirlwind of a woman named Ann passing out information about the charity, and sets of directions to those who had forgotten to print and pack copies for themselves. She saw my loaded tote bag and smiled, "You're joining us to knit?" "Oh no, no, nooooooooooooooo. I'm the one who emailed you about donations" I said, cheerily waving the tote in front of her. "I can't knit AT ALL." She straightened, still smiling, eyebrows arching up, "Now what makes you think you can't knit?" I told her my horror story from the past, and she laughed, saying "I already know why you made the mistakes you did, and I haven't seen you knit a single stitch!" Flabbergasted, flustered, I stammered " No, you don't understand. I REALLY AM a knitting retard. I am not the least bit capable AT ALL", this time thrusting the bag toward her while edging away slightly. "I'm sure you ladies will turn this stuff into adorable little hats and stuff." She cocked her head a bit. "Did you ever wish you could knit?"
It was a trap!

"Yes, but ......" I trailed off weakly "I just can't knit." "If I showed you that you could knit, would you like to join us?" her eyes twinkled. I was sunk, certain of complete humiliation in front of these five other women. "I'd love to knit but I just CAN'T..." I mumbled again. She motioned for me to sit next to her, pulled a pair of the needles I had brought out of their packaging, and cast on a dozen or so stitches. "Show me how you learned to knit." I took the needles from her, settled into an awkward, uncomfortable position, and stuck the right handed needle into the first stitch. "OK,STOP!" she cried. "This is your ENTIRE problem: You are trying to knit into the loop of the stitch and not the first stitch itself."

HUH?

"That is what you did when you made that first scarf. Do this instead", she said, proceeding to place the needle correctly. "OK, NOW knit." And I finished the first row. Correctly! Without any holes! Without going into pyramid mode! Encouraged, I started the second row, when she immediately stopped me again. "You're doing it again!" she said laughing, replacing the needle in the correct position, showing me, then pulling it out.
"Try it on your own." This time, I placed the needle correctly and knitted the entire row without a hitch. "This is GREAT!" she said, " Of course you can knit! Why, even your tension is wonderful, natural. And this is what made you think you couldn't knit?" she asked incredulously. "Uhmmmm, yeah, it was. I could still screw up, you know." "You will, honey. But at least you will know WHY you are screwing up, and HOW to fix it."

If only it were that easy.

And that was that. No longer simply a benefactor, I was knitting. She assigned me squares at first, but in the middle of the second session, Ann thrust a sheet o paper with some heiroglyphs on it before me. "You'regoing to knit the squares in a stitch pattern" she saidbrightly, full of confidence. "But I can't purl!" I whined. "I'm going to show you how" she said smilingly, proceeding to sit beside me for the next half hour while I struggled with the stitch, back and forth, row after row, until she pronounced,

Ann on the left, yours truly on the right

"You're ready to do patterns" nodding toward the sheet she had given me earlier. She picked it up, pointing to each weird notation, decoding it for me while I read along and listened. AHA! K5, P5 = knit five stitches then purl the next five. I was amazed. So this was knitting. For real. The square I made that day was frogged a half dozen times before I got the hang of it, but I was knitting. In pattern. (For the truly curious, it was the basketweave pattern) For the next two sessions, I made basketweave squares with a religious fervor, knitting deep into the night in my cabin instead of reading before lights out. I hadn't learned to cast on yet, so every time I needed to start a new square, I called one of the women in the group, and we would meet someplace between our two cabins, where she would cast the requisite number of stitches onto a needle for me and then we'd go our separate ways until the next knitting session. (More about my cast-on-aphobia in another post.)

Meanwhile, the group grew from the original five to thirty-three! Ann cajoled the ship's Cruise Director into placing an announcement of the knitting circle and its meeting place in the ship's daily newsletter. We grew and grew, with women from Spain, Mexico, France, Ireland, Canada, England, Scotland, Finland, Russia, Romania, Africa, Sweden, Australia, as well as from the states of FL, TX, MS, MO, VA, NC, GA, MD, PA, MI, LA, CA, WA, and OR! Many brought their own projects to work on as well, which sealed

Group member Wanda transforms squares into baby blankets

my fate completely: the array of gorgeous socks, Aran sweaters, lacy baby blankets, shawls, booties, tops, and fair isle mittens took my breath away. These gals were making works of art!

Charity items we made ... in progress

We quickly gained celebrity status on the ship, with folks stopping by to see the knitting phenomenom for themselves. The donated yarns and needles vanished quickly, transforming the mountain of frothy pastel skeins into adorable little hats and blanket squares. All told, the group produced 86 baby hats and enough squares for 9 complete blankets during seven sea days. Three of the women pulled an all-nighter assembling the squares into finished blankets before the last session. The CENTURY photographer took a picture of the group with the completed items on the last day of our get-togethers, and Ann sent the whole shooting match off to Warm Up America when she returned home to Miami.

Thanks to Ann, I am learning the process and zen of knitting late in my baby-boomerism, but still have a lot of catching up to do. The picture to your left is a scarf I made for a friend of my daughter's (who is modeling it here) as a Christmas gift. I came home and dove into the first place I could find that sold yarn and wasn't a Walmart. The scarf is about nine feet in length, and was made out of different colors of Lion Wool, on size 7 needles. I also made seven other scarves, all different (and never photographed ... it just never occured to me at the time!) as Christmas gifts for each of my kids, several friends (including a dog owner and her dog ... 'twas a cute matching set!) and an afghan for my mother-in-law.

Buckle your seat belt, and stay tuned.







NOTE: Photos on the ship were provided by Ann and her more-than-significant other, Ira. Thanks, guys, for making my text come to life.