My Hiking Dress

This being the Year of Dress + Cardigan, I am attempting to incorporate dresses into my everyday wardrobe.   The company my husband works for, New England Footwear, planned a hike up Mount Sunapee:  This was my opportunity to sew a “hiking dress”, you know, an athletic dress that looked spot-on with my Lime Lites.  I consulted my style muse, Cal Patch, because surely she would wear a dress on a hike.  We decided loose, cool, and short for good movement, lots of pockets, and leggings to cover my undercarriage.

These are my Go Lite Lime Lites, great for day hikes and daily adventures.  The soft teeth on the soles grip the ground and absorb the irregularities in terrain.  The hard inner soles keep feet stable and protected.  I think they look hot.  And I am determined to make them my go-to footwear with a dress.

I cut and sewed a darling red smock, with charming half circle pockets like Cal makes.  Just the right length, buttons down the front, delightful fading and puckering of the fabric (I love when fabric looks aged), and my favorite elbow length cuffed sleeves.  Sweet.

But then … Wait … Suddenly my darling red smock morphed into a giant red house coat like the neighbor lady wore over her slip, with her Isotoner slippers, sucking down a Marlboro before company arrived for the roast beef and congealed salad.  Bummer.  I chalked it up as a failure.  Sewing failures are fine with me, really, I only wish I had allotted enough time to start again and get it right. 

I wore a pair of running shorts and a tee shirt on the hike, which turned out to be really challenging.  Five miles through slippery mud, muggy weather and several stream crossings (and then I was wishing I had not sewn a house coat, but instead exercised).  As I was climbing a steep outcropping of rocks, I told this house coat story to a friend behind me.  She paused and said, “I’m so glad you’re not wearing a dress right now”.

On July 4^th we went to the Cate Park Band Concert and fireworks.  

I decided I would wear my house coat with some made-by-me leggings.   Red is a good American color; push through the awkward house coat-y feeling. And you know what happened?  My house coat morphed back into the darling red smock I had envisioned.  I love this little number!  I’m going to wear the b’jeebers out of it, pair it with dark blue jeans and a cardigan, and maybe even take it on a stroll …

What is wrong with me?

A Quick Sweet Story

My Uncle died recently.  He was a brilliant man, fascinating and engaging, adored for his passion to share.  When I say brilliant, I mean MIT professor of 50 years.  Inventor of a heart valve.  A cryogenic scientist and decorated engineer.  Determined to teach the second law of thermodynamics to fifth graders.

He was a builder and a maker, too.  He and my father built our camp: They peeled logs for the barn, engineered a dam for the pond, repaired tractors, built roads, fashioned an outhouse from treasures my Uncle collected at the dump.

We were looking at slides my cousin's daughter had collected and came across a photo of my Uncle sewing white draperies.  I looked behind me.  Running the length of his living room were exquisite pinch pleated draperies, floor to ceiling.  I gasped.  I never knew.

And then my mother said, "Oh yeah, when Lou was pregnant he sewed her maternity clothes."

And there it is.  Discovery and the joy of making.  Sewing, heart valve, new outhouse.  All worthwhile.  So worthwhile.

My Uncle and my Dad, one log of many for a barn,
and a snowy scene to cool you on a hot day 

Nash Island, 2013

photo by Gale Zucker (c) 2013

I've been on a trip, a trip so full and grounding that it is challenging to put into words.  So whatever I say here, magnify it if you will, please.  And fill in the gaps to make the story more wonderful, because it is.  My host for the weekend was Jani Estell of Starcroft Fiber.  My travel companions were the delightful photographer/designer Gale Zucker, and ever-fun knit designers Mary Jane Mucklestone and Ysolda Teague.

MJ and Ysolda with MJ's trusty gazeteer

We've been to Roundup on Nash Island, an island of sheep way way up in DownEast Maine.  Here is my post from the same event last year.

This year the flock numbers eighty one ladies, two gentlemen, one sort of in-betweener, and almost a hundred lambs. The sheep have lovely fleeces, cleaned by the bright sun and sea breezes.  I did not take my camera or my phone onto the island (sorry, I regret this), so the photos here are from the mainland, some taken by me, others by Gale Zucker. 

Once a year the flock is carefully rounded up by a herd of gentle people, and corralled into sea worn pens there on the island. The lambs are lifted over the fencing into waiting arms and shuttled into the lamb pen, a  chaotic musical chairs transaction with squirming and bleating, and folks with their feet stuck in the mud (well, me at least).  Alfie Wakeman, an island steward and shepherd, examines and treats each lamb with preventative meds, gives a friendly scratch, and then sets them loose.

Each adult sheep is shorn by one of three women - Donna, Gerri, or Eleni.  Watching these three women work all day long, doubled over at the waist, respectfully rolling and nudging the plump sheep and freeing them of their wool - well, it is empowering.  If they can do that, surely I can get the lid off the jar, dammit.

The weather this year was picture perfect (again, regretting the camera decision).  The warm sun helped to dry the dewy fleeces and burned the spots we missed with sunscreen.  One brave young gal went for a swim in the cold ocean.  Even if the weather had not been so clear, the workers for this event all maintain bright and sunny faces, no matter.

The wool is stuffed in burlap sacks and hoisted onto the waiting boats, shipped back to the mainland, and trucked to Jani's new mill, where I set up my cot and slept like a baby.  Bucket list item: Sleep in fiber mill, Check.

Jani's Wool Wagon

Ysolda and Grant weighing the wool

Nash Island Light samples, in the new mill

This, my friends, is the way wool is made.  With loyalty, tradition, team work, thoughtfulness, and really really hard work.  I love this wool.

Mary Rebecca, photo by GZ (c) 2013

photo by Gale Zucker (c) 2013

Dress + Cardigan: Installment 4

When I started posting here on blogger I promised myself I would never punish myself for gaps in posting, for it would be self defeating.  This is me, telling myself it is okay to have experienced a gap, not really convincing myself that it is okay.

Moving on ...

Dress no. 4 is complete.  Worn here by the lovely Spongecake, a newcomer to my dressform collection.  The pattern is self drafted.

The front button band is flanked by three lines of double needle stitching.

I have included three snaps in the skirt area to make it easier to slip the dress over my head.  If I had it to do again (which I do - there are two more of these cut), I would either add three more buttons or continue the buttons to the hem. Glad I tried, now I know.

And here is installment 4 of 12 in my Dress + Cardigan project (8 more by February 2 ... that's doable, yes?)  This is Sarah Ann, built for my daughter.  This one is knit in a superwash by WEBS.  The rooflike texture is a modification of a Barbara Walker stitch pattern.  Pattern to follow this summer.

Dolly has arms now, made with Romex, duct tape and pipe insulation (remind me to replace the pipe insulation I pilfered from the hot water pipes in the basement, will you?).  She is posing like one of the fellows from Monty Python.

I've been going places lately, doing things.  Here's a shot from last weekend - a blueberry barren way, way up in Maine.  Can you guess where I've been?

More Stitches

Here's what I have on the needles, but not for much longer.  I have about a third of a ball of this Valley Yarn Superwash left, so I'm going to knit until I can't knit any longer.  The fabric will be worked into a shirt dress with some pin tucks and gathers, suitable for this sweater, which I'm hoping is appropriate for the office and over a nighty.

I have been sewing.  This linen dress has been on heavy rotation, as evidenced by the wrinkles.

Good gracious, sewing is satisfying.  Below is a video of my electric rotary cutter, which spins a large octagonal blade.  I am cutting a pile of six sleeves.  Like butter.

Four of those sleeves are now completed shirts (yep, shirts not dresses, I didn't have enough fabric for dresses - that's okay, shirts are handy, too).

I'll be wearing the red one tonight at Sonya Philip's reception at Gather Here in Cambridge, and I'll bring my last incomplete shirt for some hand stitching.  It has shaped up to be a week full of visits with friends, and for that I am thankful.

Hello, my name is Kitty

My dog's name is Katharine Murray Mason, but we call her Kitty. Lots of Katharines are called Kitty. My Mother's second-hand cat came with the name Cinnamon, but it did not suit her or stick. By default, she was also named Kitty. Kitty and Kitty go to the same vet, who happens to be my husband's brother. They are on the same account. And they always go together, which makes for a little confusion, and lots of snickers and sheepish smiles.

After our appointment this week, we went to my brother-in-law's farm, Riverbank Farm, a stock dog training facility with "dog broke” livestock, including Cheviot sheep and llamas.

These are a few of the new lambs. MacAusland’s Woollen Mill of Prince Edward Island custom spins their hardy fleeces along with a touch of llama. The resulting yarn is not for the fussy or faint of heart - it is down home, sticky and practical. Nothing luxury about it, just like me. Perfect for the kind of sweater I reach for every day.

eesh.

Riverbank Farm also fosters rescue stock dogs that have not succeeded as pets. Many thrive when to able satisfy their instincts to herd. But they were all napping when we were there. And the Kittys waited patiently in the car.

For years the running family joke was a comparison of mouths to feed at the farm versus engines to keep running at our place.  Happy to say there are way more mouths than engines nowadays.

From Me to You