love in the time of quarantine

Well, hello there. It’s been a while. How are you doing? How do we even begin to talk about these times?

I began this post at the beginning of quarantine, back in March. Who would have thought.

It’s been a season of life in which I try to focus more on just being, focus more on what is happening directly in front of me, giving attention to the task at hand, to the person I’m with. Less of productivity, at least in a public sense, less show and tell, less comparison, less of pretty much everything. And now, in the time of our collective quarantine, those things shrink even more noticeably. Our daily footsteps, if we could see the path, wind down the hallway, on and off couches, around the yard within our fence, to the porch to check the mail, and sometimes, when the weather is nice, a familiar walk on our neighborhood sidewalks.

It’s been weeks, months since we’ve gone downtown (which is 5 minutes from our house). It’s been weeks since I’ve touched anyone outside of my immediate family. You can relate, I’m sure.

We attempt to work from home. We will attempt to help our kids do their virtual schoolwork, again. We attempt to clean and feed ourselves. We video conference. We try to push projects forward. We make popsicles, eat them, and repeat. We have piano lessons with a teacher we love, whom we have not met in person. We cultivate very satisfying tshirt tan lines. We try to rest, fail, try again. We seek solace, we seek normalcy in an exceptional situation. We read the news. We try not to read the news. We check in with our friends. We worry about our loved ones, especially the ones suffering from coronavirus. We send prayers. We don’t know what else to do.

There are people doing huge, vital, amazing things to help people right now (and always). People who still have to go to work everyday. People caring for those who are sick. People delivering food, and supplies, and books. People still collecting our trash, filling our prescriptions, answering our emails and phone calls. Thank you thank you thank you.

 

120

A holiday package arrived by post in the days before Christmas. The gifter, my dear old friend, has a knack for making parcels filled with magic, so we we were giddy to open it. And oh my, I bawled my eyes out when one bit of the contents fell into my lap – a Diana camera. A real, analog, 120mm film camera, and already loaded with film. The reasons for the outpouring of sentiment (mine) are too numerous to explain, but I shall say only my friend and the universe could have intuited the perfect gift for this time of life. Each frame of film is a tiny mysterious world waiting to be revealed through light and silver. Thank you friend, thank you sun, confluence, thank you happenstance.

anniversary sweater

IMG_9202

IMG_9215IMG_9218IMG_9228IMG_9217IMG_9219IMG_9210IMG_9213IMG_9227IMG_9221

The traditional gift for a 7th year wedding anniversary is wool. You can imagine my happiness at discovering this.

My inspiration for this sweater came from the film Jules et JimI loved the imagery and atmosphere of this wonderfully curious movie, and the knitwear was perfect. I searched for a plain, shawl-collar sweater, to not much avail. If you know of a different pattern you’d recommend, I’d greatly appreciate it. Especially if it is a top-down shawl collar cardigan. This pattern is Smokin‘ by Jared Flood, from Son of Stitch ‘N Bitch. I remember reading the old Brooklyn Tweed blog back when blogs were new, and being so excited by Jared’s photographs and designs. It was when I was getting back into knitting, mostly privately, in my little apartment with books and slow internet. It was the beginning of a knitting revolution, which we were part of whether we knew it or not.

My sweater, his sweater, fits! and is so thick and cozy. Luckily the recipient is the best, most appreciative human to knit for, and I am eternally grateful for that and every last one of his other wonderful qualities. Happiest anniversary 💙.

You can read more knitterly details on this sweater here.

Fall is here. Winter is sort of here in Denver. We got a thrillingly chilly walk in before the snow flew. I’m away at a work conference, enjoying the weirdness of staying in a strange hotel, hiding away and knitting like a crazy hermit.

Reading :: Knitlandia by Clara Parkes
Listening :: Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier (perfect, perfect October book)
Watching :: knitting video podcasts, Mandarine’s and Fiber Tales. I had no idea these things existed. I’m obsessed. Any suggestions on others would be appreciated.

Happy October everyone.