it's quiet

today the house is quiet. keith (my partner) returned to work after having been off since january with sciatic nerve damage. his job at the kruger paper mill is physical so he had to be almost 100% better.
he left for work at 7:00. the house is quiet. the only noise is what i generate.

summer's end shawl scarf

on friday, barb from south carolina bought one of my shawl/scarves through etsy and also asked if i could make her another incorporating my "summer's end" yarn. the shawl/scarves are becoming big sellers this time of year - perfect to wear on a cool evening or with your fall jacket for extra warmth.

autumn arrives with a clash and a clatter

most seaons creep up on you here in newfoundland. winter is almost always looming. spring is slow and quiet. summer is tentative. but this year summer scurried off and autumn arrived with a clash and a clatter. last weekend we waited for hurricane bill and this weekend it's danny. keith took this photo at the cabin yesterday. this morning, as i prepare for market, it's sunny and cold. hat and gloves, sweater and shawl. a thermos of tea. summer is already a memory.

baby hats

i started working on my craft council shop order last week. a lot of spinning and knitting. part of the order was a dozen baby hats from my hand spun wool and i finished them up yesterday. they range in size from newborn to about 3 years. soft and warm. they cost between $30. and $35 depending on the size.if you'd like to place a custom order for one of these hats, write to me at my email address (sohagan@nf.sympatico.ca) with the size (for the larger sizes i'd need the circumference of the child's head), and preferred colour.

times 3

for most craftspeople, september to november are the busiest months. the fall means flat out production for shop orders and craft fairs. i already have my order from the newfoundland and labrador craft shop at devon house. and i'm starting to stockpile for the toronto one of a kind christmas show in late november. and i'm still running my etsy shop and doing the saturday market here in corner brook. so i have to be working at producing all the time for the next three months. one solution to "maximising" production is to make more than 1 skein of yarn at a time. so when i decide on a "colourway" - a combination of colours and fibres to make into a batt - i make 12 batts instead of 4 and spin up 3 skeins instead of 1. so it's 1 skein for the devon house order, 1 skein for the market/etsy shop/toronto show and 1 skein for me to knit up into a scarflette, a hat, fingerless gloves or combine with other yarns for a shawl.

they seemed to be breathing...

my thoughts are turning to autumn. the nights are getting cool so i have to rethink the bedding. a few years ago i was making children's clothes using vintage chenille bedspreads. i bought alot on ebay and friends would tell friends and i became known as the woman in newfoundland who collects chenille. i would receive bedspreads in the mail from people i didn't know. most of the spreads that arrived were torn and worn but occasionally they were in such good shape that i couldn't cut them up. these are a couple of my favourites. they're wearing out now. they've been sewn and patched. but there's life in them yet. on the line yesterday they seemed to be breathing...

seeping

the days are sunny and warm but the nights are cool. there is a frost warning for tonight. the colours from the garden, from the woods and meadows seem to be seeping into the soil. every day they seem to be less intense. the yarn i am spinning this week is also more subdued - the pale colours of late summer.

the storm that never came

all weekend newfoundland braced itself for the arrival of hurricane bill. we had plenty of rain (the farmer's market was cancelled on saturday) but when it finally did hit land it had been downgraded to a tropical storm. my yarns this weekend were influenced by autumn storms.

these final days of summer

these are the final days of summer. today it is raining and newfoundland is hunkering down waiting for hurricane bill to hit (the south and east coasts of the island will have it worse than we will on the west)
yesterday we went out to meadows to see a friend who is home for a visit (she moved to england 12 years ago but returns home every few years). it felt like the last outdoor get-together of the year. brenda has returned from a summer in gros morne park so we've resumed our morning dog walks. the colours in the garden and in the woods are draining. i'm choosing autumn colours for my yarn...

glory days

on these last days of summer, the garden is glorious. the flowers, the fruit and vegetables hold onto all the heat and colour and energy of the season.

and of course i made yarn...

i took roving and my wheel with me to woody point. when it wasn't busy i spun. the sunlight and ocean breeze through the open window.

can i say a bit more?

i'm still not willing to let go of last week at woody point. so - a few more memories and images...
1. living in a 13 foot 1979 boler tailer with my good friend barb. having everything we need - clothing and food and a toilet and a shower (i confess to opting for a larger shower in tess's house each evening), a comfortable bed where at night the open windows and skylights provided a cool cross breeze of ocean air and i had some of my best sleeps in years. barb and i decided that we could definitely live a nomadic/gypsy life.

2. the trailer was parked in tess's driveway (thank-you so much tess), a 15 minute walk to the theatre so we began and ended every day with a stroll. the ocean gleaming in the morning or the moon/stars in the night. we befriended a couple of orange cats with impressive fluffy tails (they even had their own "cat crossing" signs posted near their home because of their friendliness). the walk was just the right amount of exercise to clear our heads and work out our stiffness after a day of sitting/selling.

3. our exhibition space in the woody point heritage theatre was wonderful. high wooden ceilings. tall windows that looked out onto the most amazing views of gros morne mountain and the tablelands. during the day, at slow times, i was able to sit in front of an open window. a breeze. a view. a total feeling of peace. not your usual craft fair feeling.

it was magic

it was a holiday. a vacation. when i travel it's for work. or if it's not, i go to places that are exciting but challenging to me (like new york city) where i need to have all my wits about me. this past week in woody point was the best holiday i've ever had. yes - i was working (exhibiting and selling my work and the work of the west coast craft collective at the woody point writer's festival). but sales were good. and the crowd was wonderful. appreciative and knowledgeable (so i didn't have to explain why a skein of handspun costs $30.00). and everyone was happy. and relaxed. we all seemed to have left our lives behind and agreed to just enjoy the present moment. the glorious warm sun. the sparkling blue ocean. the friendship. the music and the words. 5 days with no radio or tv or newspaper of computer. just the moment.

a quick turn-around

well, that was the quickest trip ever into st. john's and back (an 8 hour drive each way). we left sunday morning and got in around supper-time. in the evening we all headed over to the last night of the folk festival in bannerman park - a lovely walk through the lieutenant governor's grounds. the festival was sold out (didn't know that was possible to do in a park!) so we walked down to water street and took in a little of the busker festival. the whole city seemed to be in party mood. we left at 8:30 the next morning (so sad to say goodbye to eamon after being with him for almost 3 weeks). in 2 days of being driven, i knit 4 scarflettes and 2 shawls - alot more than i would have managed if i'd just been at home. so now today i'm packing and organizing for 5 days in woody point at the west coast craft collective's sale and display at the writer's festival which begins for us at 10:00 tomorrow morning.

forgetting to take a breath

i've just visited the greenhouse. it's early evening. keith has taken eamon to a movie. it's our last night together and tomorrow we take eamon back to st. john's. i picked basil and a few peppers and the only ripe little tomatoes to take in with us. the stillness of the moment poured over me and into me. for the past 2 weeks - with lots of family visiting. with the busyness in my head preparing for next week in woody point, i think i had forgotten to breathe...

getting all my ducks in a row

the next 10 days will be incredibly busy. corner brook farmer's market tomorrow. sunday we drive into st. john's to take eamon home and will return on tuesday evening. wednesday morning i drive up to woody point in gros morne. the west coast craft collective will be having an exhibition/sale in the heritage theatre building in conjunction with the woody point writer's festival from aug. 12th to aug.16th so i'll be staying up there with barb in her bolero for the duration. what i need to do today is plan.

fragrant

when someone receives an island sweet skein of yarn in the mail i want it to be a delightfully sensual experience. the colours of the yarn, the softness of the wool, and the smell. so i include a hand made sachet made of vintage fabric and lavender. i'm harvesting my lavender now...

those long summer days of childhood

we all remember how long summer was when we were children. the days were endless. flowed with energy and activity. sun and rain. and at the end of 2 months you returned to school hardly recognizing your classmates (or yourself) because everyone had grown and changed. yesterday was one of those days for eamon. we spent the afternoon and evening in gillams on the north shore at robyn's (robyn and her children live in nyc during the winter and gillams in the summer). we sat in the livingroom and knit and chatted (and in the evening robyn hosted knit night). a ribbon of children (her's, eamon, the neighbourhood) twisted and turned and dove around us. in and out of the house. into the woods, down to the beach. a summer day that would never end.

garden update

the garden has been neglected these past few weeks with all the family around. just brief visits. but it's all happening. my daily salads include lettuce and chives and basil and tomatoes (cherry size) and cucumbers (the slice like butter) and yesterday my first green pepper. the greenhouse has been a huge success and will extend the growing season well into september.

what 9 year olds like to do

every summer my grandson (who lives in st. john's) visits us for a few weeks (he's been doing this since he was 4). and every year is different. he is now 9, and 9 year olds mostly want to be with other children. and then any activity is fun. this year there is a new level of maturity too (as you can see in the photo). he doesn't need as much "care". i know there will be a time when he doesn't want to leave his buddies in the summer to visit with his grandparents, and because of this i know that each visit is incredibly precious. we're hoping that starting next summer lucy will be ready to stay with us on her own, and then finn...

starry night

we spent our first overnight at the cabin last night. we had eamon with us so beach combing and swimming and fishing and reading and card playing. dark cove all to ourselves. during the night keith and i both got up to pee. we stood outside on the deck. the wind wild and the stars thick to the horizon. the big dipper large and low. a shooting star.
this is the 2nd anniversary of my blog. it's become a record of what i cherish in my life.