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JacksonsBeach114 (1 of 6)

JacksonsBeach114 (2 of 6)

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Credit for all the photos in this post to my father. Thanks, Dad!

The midwinter shore is one of my favorite landscapes. I wonder if coastal folk all over the world feel this — the summer people retreat, the weekend visitors trudge home to their elsewhere lives, and the beach is starkly itself again: no longer a strip of fire pits and driftwood forts and picnics luring yellow jackets to gorge on sandy watermelon rind and half-eaten hot dogs and warm beer, but an ecosystem once more. Of course the locals savor the warm days as much as the visitors and can be just as careless or careful of their footprint; the summer beach is everybody’s playground. But when the air and the sea are equally cold — and sometimes, it seems, equally damp — a visit to that shifting edge where the land plunges under is an act of desire not to enjoy ourselves but to enjoy the place.

Enjoy it we did. There were loons diving near shore and gulls relishing the rotting delights of the tidelands, and the thin sunlight was welcome, if not warming. I was sorry to have to keep the little ones out of the waves on this occasion; I didn’t think soaking in the winter ocean would aid their recovery from lingering coughs. Jolly was particularly indignant at my interference, but soon busied himself throwing pebbles into the water, investigating the textures of kelp and bladderwrack, and practicing locomotion over this challenging terrain. Ada devoted herself to throwing sticks for the dogs, braving the showers as they shook off the sea and soaking her mittens without regret. (This labrador does retrieve, but is mainly in it for the chance to paddle about and doesn’t attach much importance to the actual hand-off, so if you thought the child looked like the one fetching the stick in that first picture you weren’t far wrong.) Of course there was an inevitable mouthful of sand…

JacksonsBeach114 (3 of 6)… but a few swipes with the back of a woolen glove and all was well again. And the key to happy endings for winter beach outings? Dry pants and wool socks waiting in the car. Steamed milk and Felicity’s pumpkin bread at the bookstore afterward.

Gifts

Thank you all for your heartening responses to “Winter Words”—it’s lovely to “meet” some new readers and to hear from some who’ve been here all along! The opportunity to collaborate with Brooklyn Tweed was so unexpected and so energizing—definitely one of my greatest gifts this season.

Of course there was a flow of knitted gifts in and out of my household as well. After the effort of Winter Garden, which really consumed most of the time I’d have otherwise given to Christmas presents, it was a pleasure to turn to someone else’s quick and easy pattern and toss off a few last-minute holiday projects. Katya Frankel’s Side by Side mitts were the perfect car knitting as we traveled north to visit my family. I began one the night before we left in Quince & Co.’s Owl (DK wool/alpaca, wonderfully rustic), the gorgeous Cranberry color. But I had cast on the medium and it was coming out too large for my own hands. I tried it on my husband: sure enough, perfect man size. So I quickly began another in the small, as I needed a gift for a photographer friend who’s been very generous in taking pictures of my family and never accepts payment. By the time we reached Anacortes I had two mitts of different sizes and colors, but I was exceedingly glad to don them, ends still a-dangling, when we faced a two-hour wait for the next ferry and the dog needed a chance to run on the beach. It was about forty degrees and lightly sprinkling and my own gloves were somewhere in the roof box. (I’m still wearing the Koolhaas gauntlets I adapted years ago from Jared Flood’s 2007 hat pattern.) Mr. G read books and let the children push all the buttons on the dashboard while Lark and I scrambled down to the waterline.

The tide was in, I was glad to see. Lark is a compulsive wave chaser and will keep sprinting to and fro at ankle depth even after the shell fragments and barnacled rocks of our shingle beaches have shredded her paws, so she’s much better off if the water’s edge is up near the softer sand where the grasses begin. There were only a few dog people out on this winter day. A Portuguese water dog attempted to keep up for a little while; a Bernese mountain dog was too wise to spend his energy in the chase and snuffled my pockets hopefully instead. Cormorants dipped in and out of the shallows, gulls jostled and gossiped on the old cannery pilings, and a flock of some small sea ducks beat in to land in formation up the curve of the bay. Lark shuttled back and forth at roughly the speed of sound and I walked the length of the sand until the footing got too squelchy for my sneakers. My mismatched gloves did their work and fended off total numbness. And meanwhile, my snack stash did its work and carried the children through the pre-dinner hours in good spirits. Two hours is a long time to wait in the car when you’ve already spent five hours there, so we staged a dance party to Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits in the passenger seat for a while.

A couple of days later I’d completed a mate for Kathy’s glove, the kids were occupied with the spoils of Christmas, and the outdoors were briefly inviting enough for some quick photos.

KathysMitts (2 of 2) KathysMitts (1 of 2)

This pleasant, tweedy, mouse color is called Papuan. (And that vest dates from 2009, subject of the annual Christmas exchange with Katrin! Three cheers for Shetland wool, and three more for skillful friends.) I finished my father’s pair back home in Portland, since I’d run out of the Cranberry, and I suspect there are more of these mitts in my future. I’d quite like some myself, and my husband was disappointed to learn my dad’s set wasn’t for him. (He did get fingerless gloves for Christmas, machine knit by my friend Laurie, so I don’t know what he’s complaining about. Plus he’s lost one each of the two pairs I’ve made him.)

I have not yet completed my half of this year’s Christmas exchange, I hang my head to say. I’m already in possession of a beautiful Bonny top in Swans Island silk/merino laceweight; it fits me perfectly and looks terrific. But I am still creeping through the lace panel on Katrin’s. So I hope she’ll forgive me and accept a Lunar New Year gift this year. Here’s the good news: dear Mr. G has just come up with my Christmas present. It’s a SUPERDRIVE. It sounds like it ought to take me through the worm hole at warp speed. What it actually does is… wait for it… play DVDs. My husband thinks it’s quaint of me to care that my new laptop doesn’t have an aperture for anything greater in diameter than a quarter. But I am not ready to live in the cloud full time. I have been pining for the box of movies that’s sadly relegated to the basement, and I cannot bring myself to pay money to stream something online that I already own. Twice, if you’re talking about my new plans for this evening, because it was remastered a few years ago. That’s right. You know who’s going to get me through this lace panel? Mr. Darcy and Lizzy, that’s who. SUPERDRIVE!

Reprise

Back in the spring I started a short-sleeved Pomander for my boy in the 18-month size. He passed that milestone on the solstice and lo, it fits him perfectly.

JollysPomander (1 of 1)

JollysPomander2 (1 of 1)

(How much am I going to miss that cute round tum in a few years when he’s all limbs and muscle?) As I predicted, the yarn—Knitted Wit Cashy Wool, seriously luscious—is almost impossible to photograph, but I couldn’t resist this deepest blue for my fair fellow and I find I quite like the subdued look of the yoke on my little man. I used every last inch of this 400-yard skein, even calculating my yardage per round on the sleeves so I could measure out exactly how much to allot to each one; the resulting elbow length is just perfect for wearing over another shirt and handily keeps him from wiping his mouth on the handknits, too. The ability to make this a one-skein pattern in any size was one of my chief reasons for constructing the sleeves as I did, with a provisional cast-on to complete the yoke before picking up and knitting the sleeves downward. And I’m happy to report it worked.

Busy Jolly. He can sing. He can tiptoe. He whistles when he blows on his hot oatmeal. He can stick the landing on a few ending consonants so his words no longer have sixteen possible meanings. He understands everything. He can say no no no and run away cackling when it’s time to pick up toys or go to bed. He managed a sentence: “Baby…eat…roro!” (Roro are frozen blueberries.) He can flop and wail theatrically when he doesn’t get what he wants. He can make a joke by declaring that peas are yellow or brown. He gives the world’s sweetest kisses and will take it upon himself to go find something that will comfort his sister when she’s hurt.

Jolly18months (1 of 1)(Yes, he’s got the scars to prove he’s a man of action.)

And oh, how he’s growing. I’d better get cracking on a new round of sweaters for 2014. The next kids’ design in the WGK hopper is a unisex cardigan, so I’m thinking there will be one apiece for the littles.

But first I’ve got a side project to tackle — the reissue of a sock design called Andamento that’s reverted to me. I confess it wasn’t on my radar at all, but a Raveler went hunting for the pattern and couldn’t get it from the original publisher, so she contacted me about it last week. I find the design still pleases me after five years, so it’s no burden to visit the local shop for a skein of Malabrigo Sock and cast on a new sample. Okay, I made two visits. The first day I grabbed a skein of Marte, one of my favorite Malabrigo colors, but when I got a few inches in I had to admit to myself that it probably wasn’t bright enough to photograph well. So I went back for a skein of Turner. It’s looking promising, and I’m glad to be sending this design back into the world. Golly, I haven’t knit a sock in far too long. Let’s see if I have the stamina for four in a row. My mother was eyeing the Marte, and I noted a pair of socks I know I knit at the same time as the original Andamento sample — half a decade ago — carefully air drying inside out in her laundry and looking quite lovingly cared for… my duty is clear.

Tomorrow I get to tell you about an exciting project that isn’t made of yarn. It’s been under my hat for a month and I can’t wait to see what you think!