June 10: Squam Art Workshops 2014

After six months of anticipation, it's hard to believe that my time at Squam has already been and gone. It's an intense experience (so many people! so much nature!), but this was my fourth visit and I feel that I've unlocked the secrets to having a good time: reveling in the little things (a bite of chocolate cake; a shared joke; a stolen moment in the forest), focusing on the good in people, concentrating on process over product, and managing expectations. A lot like life, I suppose.

 

After the whirlwind of check-in, I dumped my bag in my room and headed to the dock. It's one of my little traditions – surveying the water, stretching my travel-tightened limbs, taking the classic shoe-gazer photo. It was cool and overcast; the clouds sat low in the sky, obscuring the treeline on the hills opposite.

 

I was back in the same cabin as last year, Everest, but with all new housemates. There were nine of us altogether – six from the US (Sarah, Karen, Shelly, Heather C., Emily and Heather W.), plus Fiona from Ireland and Sarah from the England, who made up the Commonwealth contingent with me. It was a really good group and we had lots of fun – one of the highlights being fireplace s'mores, courtesy of Emily.

 

The opening ceremonies, with their fairy lights and general air of excitement, got things started off on a good foot. There's always such a buzz in the air on the first night: reunions happening, new friendships being forged, and a lot of knitting talk.

Unlike last year, I didn't take any knitting classes. My Thursday class was with Joetta Maue – an artist who works in embroidery. I wasn't sure what to expect, especially given that I already knew the basics, but it was a terrific class and hearing her talk about her work really changed the way I thought about the ancient art form. (More about that later, perhaps.) This little sampler is simple but it makes me very happy.

 

The second class, taught by Maya Donenfeld, involved stamp making, fabric printing and sewing (hand and machine). We did the printing and most of the snap pouch on Friday afternoon and the zippered pouch on Saturday morning. The view (above) was lovely and I really enjoyed working with Stewart and Wende, fellow embroiderers and rabble-rousers.

I didn't learn anything earth-shattering in this class – the techniques are basic and I'm pretty confident with X-Acto knives (too confident according to some! but hey, no bandages required, so no harm, no foul), ink pads, rotary cutters and a needle and thread. I am pleased with the finished projects, though, which will likely become a project bag and a pouch for embroidery notions.

 

By Saturday afternoon, the weather had finally taken a turn for the better, and we spent the afternoon down on the dock. One of the girls had rented a canoe, so we all had a chance to do some paddling...

 

...which was a new experience for me. (I'm in the front, being surprised at my heretofore unsuspected canoeing abilities.)

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent dock knitting, and it was wonderful. I had been looking forward to that moment for months, and it was definitely worth the wait.

 

The Saturday night art fair was also well worth the wait – as usual, there were tons of vendors and all sorts of tempting goodies. I came away with some Brooklyn Tweed yarn and a couple of the beautiful linen bento bags from Fringe Supply Co (I was happy to meet Karen in person), plus a copy of the delightful Kerry Lemon's new book.

 

Sunday morning was clear and calm, the water like glass. I'd have loved to have stayed all day, but it was time to pack my suitcase, bid my housemates farewell and head back down the I-93. There's always next year.  I'm looking forward to it already.

June 3: Since last we met

Lately, my days have been full of words, my evenings full of stitches. I finished up three big projects recently – two were dictionaries; the third, this sweater. They were each challenging in their own way, and I won't prevaricate: I'm happy to have them done and dusted.

 Meanwhile, the weather finally turned to spring. The long-awaited cherry blossoms arrived and were promptly washed away. It's the first time in years I haven't made it out to High Park to see them in full bloom, but between deadlines and rainstorms there was no way.

 

My latest project: a crochet granny square throw. I have an uneasy relationship with crochet – you never forget your first love, and mine was knitting – but my hands are slowly coming around. The colours (and the lack of a deadline) make it easy to enjoy.

 

Speaking of the joy of crafting, I'm off to Squam tomorrow. My suitcase is packed with fabric and thread, yarn and needles; I'm set to take a sewing workshop and an embroidery class. I'm especially looking forward to the art fair on Saturday night. The weather looks warm: maybe this is the year I'll make it into the lake for a swim. 

 

No trip is complete without a special snack, so this afternoon I tried something new – a take on a snack I buy at Starbucks sometimes if I'm hungry but want something a bit more substantial than any of their infinite combinations of white flour and white sugar.

 

Super-Duper Trail Mix to Power Lakeside Crafting
(I winged it – wung it? – so these measurements are heavy on the -ish side of things. Do what feels right.)

Scant 1 tbsp olive oil

2 tsp honey

1/4 tsp vanilla

Pinch cinnamon

1-1/2 cups almonds

1/3 cup pepitas

2 tbsp sesame seeds

Pinch sea salt 

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1/4 cup dark chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 300ºF. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, honey, vanilla and cinnamon. Add almonds, pepitas and sesame seeds; toss to coat. Spread on baking sheet; sprinkle with sea salt.

Bake for 25–30 min, stirring occasionally, until almonds are golden. Turn off heat and let sit in oven for 30 min more. Remove from oven and let cool on rack.

Transfer cooled nut mixture to clean bowl; add cranberries and chocolate chips. Toss to combine.

April 22: spinning

At long last it's spring. This year, more than before, I had to draw on deep reserves of energy and some sort of faith just to keep going through the last long weeks of winter—I can't be the only person who went into survival mode. Early nights, candle light, comfort food and comfort knitting kept me going for the longest time. But now the world is greening once again and my mind is turning to other things. Things like spinning.

I have always loved the idea of alchemy. Dross to gold, words to stories, fibre to yarn: this is my kind of magic. But like any alchemy, spinning involves its fair share of hard labour, of trial and error and stops and starts. 

When I took my first spinning class I was dumbfounded to realize that the mental image I'd had of spinning with a spindle—based on something I'd seen in a Disney cartoon 30 years before—was totally wrong. It took a while to recover from that. A while, a few more spinning classes, and a stroke of luck that brought me a beautiful spindle.

I brought that spindle home and put it somewhere safe. I bought some brilliant fibre from Sweet Georgia. But I didn't spin. I'd think about it once in a while and then I'd go back to my knitting. Socks, sweaters, baby clothes: there were other things to make.

In fact, I resisted using the spindle for a long time. I wanted to wait until I had it down—until I knew that I'd be able to set my hands to spinning something that would come out perfectly. It was the curse of the blank notebook, writ in silk and wool and wood and bone. 

Of course, I don't subscribe to the curse of the blank notebook any more—I buy them and I use them, and I tell myself that it doesn't matter whether they collect notes for articles, grocery lists or lists of cheese puns. Books aren't made to sit on shelves; boats aren't made to sit in harbour; spindles aren't made to languish in jam jars. 

So a few weeks ago I pulled out my spindle and I drafted some fibre and I got to spinning.

The yarn I've made isn't perfect by any stretch. It's thick and thin; wound tightly in some places and probably too loosely in others. (It's possible that I identify a little too strongly with this yarn. Ahem.) But who cares if it's not perfect: it's yarn. I did it. 

Alchemy. Dross to gold. Snow to rain, mud to grass, grey skies to blue, the great re-awakening. Yes.