Posted on March 1, 2005 at 11:25 am
Today, because I haven’t been effusive lately about any particular project, I thought I’d share with you some of my decorating philosophy. I believe that a knitter’s home needs to be properly accessorized, with projects scattered about available for the spur-of-the-moment row whenever there’s a pause in the hectic pace of the day. Here’s a little tour of my house at the moment, room by room, unfinished something or other by unfinished something or other. We’ll start in the kitchen.
I am blessed by a center island in my kitchen which always requires some knitting to brighten up the expanse, and here currently resides the Fritzy’s socks, worked on during PBS News Hour and Michael Jackson court reenactments. There’s a copy of Knitting Now which I leave on top to remind me that I want to write them for a subscription. If you don’t know about this publication, search it out: it’s cool. Next, the Parlor, directly off the kitchen.
Here today you’d find my knitting bag where the Fleece Artist harvest from my Spa weekend is lurking, awaiting a Clapotis for the Silk 2 ply, and a stash trajectory for the rest.
Also there’s a nice tableau of Ashford Joy spindles on the breakfront,
a grocer’s bag in a colour all wrong for this room holding the Black Cardigan (it’s been hanging on this doorknob for a month now)
three of 18 resident skeins of Lamb’s Pride festooning the door into my husband’s office(see how nicely it coordinates with his frumpy wallpaper?),
and where once lived the Christmas Tree, my Drum Carder, surrounded by many little parts of many little once and future projects. Don’t ask me why there’s a hand-held mixer there, I don’t know the answer. What you don’t see lying about like overlooked Easter eggs are several balls of yarn with uncertain futures, and every fluff of house moss skittering out from under the furniture stirred up by passer-by contains evidence that a knitter lives here. This is a gathering room, where we spend a lot of time sitting around together, watching the Wonder Boy play with his train table. There are many surfaces here where a non-knitter would most likely display family photographs and vacation mementos. With a three-year old in residence, I never know when any table might become a runway for Thomas the Tank Engine, so non-breakable wool serves very nicely to cozy the place up.
In the Hall, there’s my sock stash, living here while I ponder the sock class I have promised to teach. I open it every time I walk by and dream of socks. Since this is the Hallway, I believe anything here should emphasize the transitional nature of the space, the comings and goings and so on. In thinking about socks, I have come to the conclusion that much of what I have been holding onto in this box must be passed along to knitters with other opinions about sock yarn. There’s too much impulsive acquisition represented here: so much Regia, so little interest.
The T.V. Room is the coziest room in the house. It’s always a little chilly in here, so there’s a lot of blankets and comforters flung about like the morning after a slumber party. This is where we snuggle up to watch train videos and The Amazing Race. Because it’s so cozy in here, and it’s where my spinning wheel lives, a lot of my fiber finds itself here many times during its process of becoming something. There’s always a bunch of knitting hiding the surfaces of things, sometimes even the whole backs of the chairs. Right now there’s a Mermaid sock, a Habu cardigan I haven’t touched in months, the other Fritzy’s, and the ball winder about to be employed to wind the Lamb’s Pride you saw above. Under the table is the bag with the PS 136 sweater, and behind the couch is a basket of drafted fiber.
On the banister there’s this funny thing, the incomplete crown of the Four Corners Hat has been perched here for a couple of weeks. I don’t remember exactly why it landed here, but as I was saying, transition . . .
And speaking of transition, here’s a pile in the upstairs hall awaiting installation in the stash.
And here’s another pile, also waiting for the next trip to the stash in what we call the "Wayupstairs", like the "wayback" of the station wagon. We have three floors, it’s a pre-revolutionary house, with narrow stairs, and no heat on the third floor. Nobody wants to go up there in February if they can help it. These pile sometimes get enormous, but it’s not only yarn that languishes here. After Christmas, the tree ornaments lived here for six weeks before they were taken upstairs. When the hall becomes blocked, then someone (as in, me) has to move this along.
In the master bath (I just love the sound of this, 10 years in this house without one, creeping through the kids’ room in the middle of the night to brush my teeth, and now I have my own) my reading material. I hope you’re not shocked. You never know when inspiration might strike. Besides, it’s just a bunch of pictures, I mean it’s not like I’m sitting through George Eliot in there or anything.
And finally, in the Wonder Boy’s room, the Fleece Artist Wavy Scarf kit, becoming . . . wait for it . . . a scarf. Yep: I am knitting a scarf. The humility it requires for me to admit this is my penance for my sins of excess.
I thought it would amuse my husband that I had written this post about all the stuff he lives with and has to ignore, but after reading this, he admitted after much provocation ("what’d you think? Did you like it? Think I gave them the impression that I’m a nut?) that I have failed to truly represent how saturated is every vista in the house with fibery bits. He pointed to the hat I’m writing the pattern for on the desk here next to the computer, and the coloured pencils and graph paper on the couch with the Harrisville colour card. He reminded me of the sock-in-progress that lives in the van and the large bag of unwashed fleece in the basement. And I haven’t even touched the stash. That, I guess, will have to wait for another day when I’m feeling brave.
As you can see, there’s always something within arm’s reach around here, which is why finished things spring from out of nowhere on this blog of mine. Now you know all my secrets, you know how much green there is in my wallpapers, and you know where all the valuables are. No need to break in though, my husband would gladly let you help yourself. Or maybe, your house looks a lot like mine: Traditional American Fiber Nut.