Life in the Time of Coronavirus, Week 4

Oh my, how is everyone doing? What was a first a fun stay-at-home adventure has now descending into drudgery where every day is pretty much the same. A few months ago, we put together a list of all the local-ish gardens and museums we wanted to visit, and now it's looking like those visits won't happen for some time.

The tulips I planted last fall are emerging; because tulips don't naturalize the way daffodils do, I planted them closely together in my garden and am just pulling up the bulbs when I pick them. It's not worth the real estate when only a small percentage will bloom a second year in a row. Tomatoes and flowers are emerging under the grow light in the basement, but it's still a few more weeks before it will be warm enough to start planting in earnest.

On the knitting front I am working on the Willowfall Cowl in Dream in Color Smooshy with Cashmere. I realize that when I wear it, it will be all bunched up and the lace pattern will be mostly lost. This is a good example of valuing the process, though. I also bought the yarn for the Darkwater sweater, which I have yet to swatch for. This was actually the second round of yarn, as the first came nowhere near gauge (22 sts = 4" with fingering, insanity!) It's a big undertaking and I don't think I'm mentally ready for it!

The needlepoint I was lucky to find pristine in a bin at a thrift store. It is from 1977 and the package was unopened. I have been enjoying the rhythm of pulling a needle in and out, and there is near-instant satisfaction of seeing progress.

The bottom doodle/art journal page was inspired by Jane Skates's #colortheworld100. (See this video for the process.) I feel kind of meh about the end result, but again, process and experimentation! I have no artistic "style", so I am just trying everything until I hit on what I like.

Finally, a link: Getting Through a Pandemic with Old-Fashioned Crafts. Crafting is hardly new to the pandemic, nor are crafts "old-fashioned", but I am forever thankful for my projects which progress forward while the world appears to be stalled.

Life in the Time of Cornavirus, Week 2

When I decided to revive the blog a few weeks ago, I did not see this coming; no one did, really. I've been seeing a lot of posts like "10 ways to clean your house while quarantined" or "shows to binge watch", but the reality is that working full time at home with 2 kids means a severe lack of free time. Gone are the audiobook-enriched commutes or lunchtime knit group at work. The pictures above are truly random, all taken on my non-fancy phone camera and completely unedited.

I've been deep in the world of aspirational crafting lately, daydreaming about all the clothes I'm going to sew, cross-stitch patterns I'm going to complete, or home renovations to start. The reality is hardly any of this will actually get done. So for the time being, I am going to prioritize exercising 3-4 days a week, and doing a creative activity for at least 45 minutes a day. This time comes at the end of the day while Mary has her screen time. I won't lie, the pull of my screen is strong, but there is only so much news you can read before it starts having a negative effect.

Here are a few bright spots I've encountered this week:

Pip from Meet Me at Mike's posted "Can making stuff admit the mayhem really improve our mental health?" (The source of this post was the article "How Craft is Good for our Health".)

There are many free online classes popping up. I've been following Sketchbook Revival, hosted by Karen Abend and Laura Horn's course Abstract Collage Creations. Alisa Burke is posting how-to videos on her YouTube channel. I've also been enjoying Lisa Congdon's Coronavirus Diaries she is posting to Instagram.

I hope everyone is hanging in there!

Revival

Soon after I began knitting, I discovered the concept of a "process knitter" versus a "product knitter." For most of my knitting years, I was firmly in the camp of product; I knit because I wanted the hat or sweater or shawl. This year marks 20 years of knitting, and I have more than outfit myself and my family in knitted accessories of all sorts. My sock drawer is at capacity, and even though I have slowed down my production somewhat, I have no plans to stop knitting.  Similarly, I have a closet full of handmade quilts that exceeds the number of potential beds and people to cover by quite a lot.

Now, I knit because I want to knit, and quilt if I want to quilt. I suppose that I'm slowly moving into the process camp; the act of making is more important than the product. I now choose projects based on what I want to achieve through the making. Sometimes, it's a plain sock to keep my hands busy, or because it's small and I'm traveling. Other times, I want more of a mental workout, and pick something with a chart or a technique I haven't tried before.

Yet, I'm still not there. I still follow patterns and don't take many risks. I still care if the finished project looks good enough to enter into the county fair or publish on Instagram. I need an output to prove that my time was not wasted. This is particularly true now, when I have so little "free" time.

Last summer I took an art journaling class. I hadn't taken an art class since college, and art journaling is something I've been interested in but never really started. The class itself was disappointing, since the instructor taught us how to reproduce her own work instead of encouraging us to develop our own style. But, it did spark something (and a minor hoarding of art supplies) and I have kept up with it. If anything, it has highlighted my tendency towards a usable (in this case, photogenic) finished product.

I have reached a point where I don't need anything, and I want to start experimenting. Part of this is embracing failure, and another is accepting that time spent playing is not wasted. I haven't fully realized what this means in practice, but it's something that I am keeping in mind as it gets warmer and I am motivated to get out from under my couch blanket.

This post will have a time stamp of March 17, 2020, and it would be odd not to mention that the world is in an unprecedented situation with the coronavirus. I am at home like most of the world, hoping that this all ends sooner rather than later, and eager to look back and reflect on how we all got through it. Making is an outlet for a lot of us during times of stress and I'm happy to have this coping mechanism!

Time Has Passed

Time has passed. You may have noticed the presence of an additional child in the picture above. I am far from the first to note this, but I miss blogs. Oh, I know blogs still exist, but the ones that peek into the lives of regular people, all over the world, are diminishing. I totally get it, hence the 3 year absence here. It's a lot of work, taking pictures, uploading them, writing, creating posts; and for many of us, that's on top of full-time jobs and bringing children endless amounts of snacks. I miss the creative community I can dip into while having spreadsheets open on my other screen. I certainly don't begrudge people who make a living from their blogs and websites, but there is a lack of authenticity and freedom there.

I recently finished Melanie Falick's Making a Life: Working by Hand and Discovering the Life You are Meant to Live. Misleading title aside - there is no mention of how to actually "discover the life you are mean to live" - I greatly enjoyed it. The book is profiles of many makers/artists, in mediums from pottery to leather to fabric. One of the featured artists is Tif Fussell of Dottie Angel. She explains how she created Dottie Angel as an alter ego, a part of her who could continue living her creative life while raising four small children. I love this idea, and hence, the revival of this blog.

Here is my alter ego, the part of me who wears handmade clothing out of adorably rumpled linen, who spends hours in the craft room without having to step out to clean up spills or find out why someone is screaming. The person who doesn't scroll on her phone at the end of the day, but picks up her artisan basket and dips outside to gather flowers from her organic garden.

And Through Winter

And then some other stuff happened. In August my whole family came for a visit, including my handsome nephew Hal. Here he is trying out a new mango skin treatment.

 

Mary and her cousin Elly (only 2 months younger) both became obsessed with ice cream sandwiches. (Photo courtesy Adam J. Ruhland photography)

Jason and I went to Quebec City. Oh, is this a story. Due to the world's worst airline (cough cough *Porter Airlines*) not actually being able to deliver us to the city we bought tickets to, we ended up missing a day of our vacation. We were instead treated to a scenic (not scenic, it was dark) 3-hour bus ride from Montreal and a several mile walk in the pouring rain at midnight through a very hilly city. So that was fun. It was nice city although I severely underestimated the French-speaking nature of Quebec. They are really into giant hotels there.

 

My favorite part of the trip was actually outside of the city. Montmorency Falls is taller than Niagara Falls, and I am aware of this because we walked all the way up the side of that hill/mountain there because I am not one to wimp out and take a cable car. 

We also went to Parc National de la Jacques-Cartier which is not a "national" park as in the nation of Canada, but a "national" park of Quebec which is not even a nation but whatever don't get me started. It was pretty much deserted but beautiful, and we walked several trails along scenic stuff like gurgling brooks and mossy trees. This is a boreal forest which I didn't even know about!

Then it was pumpkin time. Mary went trick-or-treating for the first time, and after a few shy starts she figured it out. "Wait a second... I hold out my bag and people put candy in it.... WHAAAAT". 

 

This is just a picture of Mary eating breakfast.

Then it was Christmas time. I vowed last year I would never put lights on a Christmas tree again because it is THE WORST so I got this pre-lighted tree and everything was much better. Mary continues to cluster ornaments on the bottom 1/4 of the tree, but she's short so I can't blame her. At least she doesn't eat them anymore.

 

Now it is now. Winter was not too wintery this year so I can't complain too much, but I'm still waiting for it to be over so I can start gardening. Mary cried when I told her we couldn't plant the pumpkin seeds because it wasn't warm enough yet. I know the feeling, kid.

 

Summer Living

Recently, I stood outside in the heat and blazing sun with coworkers at a work event, who were all complaining about summer. It's too hot, too humid, the sun is too bright. I don't know what's wrong with those people, because summer is the best. I used to be a fall evangelist, and don't get me wrong, I get excited about beautiful trees and ideal temperatures along with everyone else. But, fall doesn't last that long, and recently has been overrun by millennials drinking pumpkin spice lattes and insisting that leggings are pants.

Standing out on the metro platform in 12 degree weather, I feel like I might actually die. 110 degree heat indexes are no fun either, but still feel bearable if not merely uncomfortable. Being able to think "Hey, I'll go outside," and then 1.5 seconds later being outside, is priceless. Going to pick vegetables for dinner is priceless. Not caring that your toddler is covered in paint because you can just hose her off in the yard later is priceless.

This summer I've started trail running and I'm already dreading going back inside when the snow and ice hit. We've already been to visit sunflower fields, the water park, a friend's pool, and a local festival where Mary was very impressed by the fire station and "the man falling down in the water." (She continues to talk about the dunking tank. "Is he wearing shoes? Did his hair get wet? Is he wearing water pants?")

The garden was built over several weeks this spring, and I've already learned a lot: mainly, even though the plants looks scrawny and far apart to begin with, in a few months they will become a jungle and your friends will start to hate you for forcing so many cucumbers and zucchini on them. Winter is the biggest thing gardening has going for it. It's just long enough for you to forget how much work it is and how bugs will happily destroy all of that work in one night.

As a knitter I have to think half a year ahead, and today I ordered yarn for a super-warm Icelandic sweater. It's hard to imagine that 7 months ago it snowed four feet in one day; but at least I know as I shiver through another winter, 64 pounds of zucchini are looming on the horizon.

A New Home

Let me sum up: in October we moved from our townhouse to a house on half an acre, adjacent to 47 acres of farmland. The fact that we could move ten minutes away and yet be in another world continues to amaze me. I can see cows and goats just a few miles down the road! Moving consumed most of last fall, and my time has been spent painting and hanging curtains rather than sewing and knitting. I'm also almost finished building a 225 square foot raised bed garden.

Our new house also came with a cat, OC ("other cat"). He showed up one cold February day, pleading to be let inside. As a compromise we let him hang out in the garage in an old heated bed of Kiska's. Then we took him to be neutered at a feral cat clinic, and let him inside to recover. He never left. He had an old wound from another animal attack, which ultimately required cat surgery and weeks of recuperation. So, he's ours now! Kiska isn't thrilled but he's too sweet to release back into the wild.

I've also been working on another side project whenever I feel like it: Simple Living for Practical Humans.

That's the update! Between work, wrangling a small child, dealing with 2 cats, and house projects, it's hard to get photography in there. But I'm still here, still knitting, and will check in when I can.