A Stroll round my Village

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Hello!  No knitting today, I’m afraid. I ran into a problem with the sweater I’m knitting for our daughter and ripped back quite a bit. I’m working on a solution and hope to tell you about it next week.

Instead, I’m taking you for a stroll round my village. It isn’t the village I now live in, but the Frisian village of Grou, where I grew up and that still feels very much like my village. It is also the village of the famous Frisian doctor, poet and storyteller Eeltsje Halbertsma.

He wrote in 1856, “ik beëagje neat mei myn skriuwen, as om myn Fryske lânsljuwe in noflike pear oeren te besoargjen.” (I have no other aim with my writings than to give my Frisian compatriots a few pleasant hours.) That’s my aim for today, too, only in my case it is people anywhere and minutes rather than hours.

We’re approaching the village centre through a narrow alley. In the second house on the left the friend who taught me finger crochet used to live, and on the right was the baker’s where we spent our pocket money on sweets.

This is the main street, where I have some shopping to do.

And this is the front door of the shop I’m taking you to. It used to be the police station, but now it’s a yarn shop (where else would I take you?).

With its new glass roof it is now a beautifully light space. No yarn shop is the same and every yarn shop reflects the taste of the person running it. In this case a very cheerful and colourful taste.

In the workshop space a beginner crochet workshop has just ended. Crochet seems to be more popular now than ever before.

Unfortunately, I can’t show you what I bought. It’s something very nice, but it’s a birthday present for a friend who’ll be reading this and I want to keep it a surprise.

Now, let’s walk on to the end of the shopping street. A tiny garden shed, an antiques shop and a gate.

And behind the gate the 13th century church. In the 1970s a new minister arrived. A hippie from Amsterdam, with a long beard and long hair. He introduced a circle of meditation benches into the church, where we kneeled and sang Dona nobis pacem, pacem, dona nobis pacem. Give us peace, peace, give us peace……………………………………….

Today’s stroll ends by the lake that seemed enormous to me as a child.

My village has changed in many ways, but many things have stayed the same, too. In the same spot where they have always been, there are still einekuorren (traditional nesting places for ducks).

It’s a lovely time of year for a stroll, with tulips flowering around the Eeltsje Halbertsma bust and kingcups along the waterside. I hope you’ve enjoyed it and I hope to see you again next week. Bye!

The Joy of Making

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When I gave up translating in 2018, I was ready to move on but also feeling a bit sad and lost. It had been such an important part of my life for decades. To mark the occasion in a positive way, I took my husband out for a Very Nice dinner to thank him for all his support. And I presented myself with a book that had just come out – Making a Life by Melanie Falick.

There is some knitting in it, but it isn’t a knitting book. It is a sort of philosophical book (large format, with gorgeous photos!) about makers. About what they make, but mainly about what moves them and what making things with their own hands means to them.

Falick visits quilters, spinners, weavers, embroiderers, dyers and knitters…

… as well as a basket weaver, potters, print makers, shoe makers, bag makers, wood workers and metal workers.

Before her visits to all of these makers, Falick first interviews Ellen Dissanayake, a scholar who has written extensively about the relationship between human evolution and art. Instead of art, Dissanayake prefers to speak of “artifying”, “making special” and “making the ordinary extraordinary”.

Looking back as far as our ancestors thousands of years ago, she considers “artifying” a basic human need. She says, “Modern-day makers might choose to create pottery or sew clothing not because they have to but because they feel the urge, even need, to do it. The fact that it feels good to make things with our hands harkens back to our hunter-gatherer nature, which lives on in our psychology” (Making a Life, p. 21).

By analogy with the French joie de vivre (the joy of living), Dissanayake also coins the expression joie de faire (the joy of making). Yes, joie de faire, that’s what I often feel. I’m not an artist. Often, I find this joy of making in utterly simple things like arranging a few flowers from the garden in a small vase.

And I find it in knitting, too, of course. The pullover for our daughter is growing quickly and it really is a joy to knit.

The plant basket in the photo was a thank-you gift from someone I’m teaching to knit – another source of joy. Maybe I’ll write about that some other time, but I’ll have to ask their permission first. The pinks in it actually have that delicious old-fashioned clove scent.

Focusing mainly on the pullover, I have not been entirely monogamous in my making. A couple of flowers have sprung up around the embroidered bee and I’ve finished a crocheted bear basket for our grandson. He celebrated his 2nd birthday last week and I made it specially for the wooden play food we’ve given him. He has discovered that his own little diaper-clad bum fits neatly into it, too.

When I first had Making a Life, I gobbled it up. This time around, I’m going savour it slowly. With 2 introductory essays + vignettes of 30 makers, I will have something inspiring to read to the end of the year if I take it one maker a week. It is divided into 5 chapters: Remembering, Slowing Down, Joining Hands, Making a Home and Finding a Voice.

The beautiful photographs were taken by Rinne Allen. Some of the photos that didn’t make it into the book (but are still beautiful) can be viewed by chapter on the author’s website (just hover over ‘Making a Life Book’ at the top and you can click on the separate chapters).

May the coming week bring you lots of joie de faire!

A Sweater in a Week?

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The shop windows were filled with colourful yarns and projects. It all looked so lovely and inviting. Two pullovers from an airy self-striping yarn, one from bouclé as well as several fun hats in one window. And beautiful scarves with dots and zigzags in the other.

I was at ’t Ryahuis for yarn for a sweater for our daughter. Together we had chosen a pattern from a book I brought back from Germany a couple of years ago: Fynsk Forår by Annette Danielsen. It is in Danish so a bit of a puzzle, but I think I’ll manage.

The sweater is knit with two thin Isager yarns held together in muted shades, totally unlike the displays in the shop windows. One is Alpaca 2, a wool and alpaca yarn. The other is Trio, a linen blend in a shade called sage. At the gauge called for on 4.5 mm (US 7) needles, the yarns give a fairly open fabric. It will be a perfect sweater for the in-between seasons. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could wear it from, say, May? That would give me about a month to knit it. What do you think – will that be doable?

To celebrate its 100th anniversary De Volkskrant interviewed 100 centenarians, publishing an interview every week over the past two years. Reading about those long, long lives has been very interesting. One of the centenarians, Siena Voppen-Wegkamp, tells us: ‘I was 53 when my husband died. Seven children were still at home, the youngest 14. I went back to work as a household help. Don’t ask me how busy my life was at the time. I knit a sweater a week for the children, and was often sewing clothes into the night.’

De Volkskrant, 21 November 2022, pp. 16-17

Just imagine making every item of clothing for yourself and your large family by hand in what little spare time you have! A sweater in a week? Totally unrealistic for me! A sweater in a month sounds better. It usually takes me much, much longer, but then I usually have many projects going simultaneously. I’m going to give it a try.

That may mean that I’ll need to be a one-project person for a while, and the bee I’ve embroidered may have to wait for flowers until May.

There are enough flowers in our garden and our pear tree is blossoming, too. But the embroidered bee is very particular and only collects nectar from embroidered flowers.

Have a lovely weekend! My knitting needles will be busy. I hope there is something nice to knit on yours, too.

Spring is in the Air

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Hello! I hope this finds you all well. From some of you in the US I’ve heard that you’ve had a thick blanket of snow recently and spring seems far away. Here, March has brought rain and hail storms as well as some milder days. Judging by the flowers and the birds spring is in the air. But judging by the cardigan I’ve just finished winter is around the corner. My knitting is sadly out of sync with the seasons again. Before going on to more spring-like things, let me tell you about it first.

This is the Air Cardigan from Finnish designer Suvi Simola, and the yarn I’ve used is Garnstudio Drops ‘Air’ in Crimson, a beautiful deep and warm red. It is long, oversized and very cosy. Size M is 86 cm (33¾”) long, with 64 cm (25½”) bust width.

The Air cardigan is knit from the top down and the sleeves are knit on. The only seaming to be done afterwards is the sides of the pocket linings. The pattern is very clear and has photo tutorials for several techniques. The one thing I didn’t like about it, is the stretchy bind-off used for the sleeve and body ribbings. Can you see how wavy the bottom is? I painstakingly unpicked it and re-did it using an ordinary bind-off.

What I do like a lot, are the decorative purl ridges on shoulders and upper back. This is where the knitting starts, with a narrow strip with short rows for shaping. From the purl ridges on either side of this strip stitches are picked up for fronts and back. Very nice!

All in all, a lovely design. It is knit on 5 mm (US 8) needles and should be a quick knit for someone who doesn’t have a dozen projects on the go simultaneously. Oh well, when the first chilly autumn days come, I’ll have a cosy cardigan ready and waiting.

And now – spring things!

It’s blossom time. And it’s also wood anemone time.

Wood anemones are not very common in these parts. They mainly grow in ancient woodlands and on historic country estates. Places where it is as if time has stood still and the rest of the world with all its woes and worries seems far away.

Where a distant wind turbine is the only sign of modern times.

In one of these dreamy wood anemone woods many white storks are nesting. When you see them out in the water meadows foraging for frogs and moles, you don’t hear them.

But from their nests their bill clattering can be heard far and wide.

In some places, the wood anemones grow together with wild garlic.

I wouldn’t dream of picking it here, but fortunately we also have a small patch of not-so-wild wild garlic in our garden. And that brings me to a recipe I’d like to share with you – Potato and veg frittata with Camembert and wild garlic (can also be made without wild garlic). Our young hens are so productive that we have of necessity become very creative with eggs. And then there are enough eggs left to feed many of our neighbours, too.

Potato and Veg Frittata with Camembert and Wild Garlic

(Serves 2-3)

Ingredients

  • 500 g potatoes
  • 2 tbsp olive or sunflower oil
  • 100 g green beans
  • 150 g broccoli
  • 100 g cherry tomatoes
  • 4 eggs
  • 50 ml milk
  • Salt & pepper
  • 100 g Camembert or similar
  • A small bunch of wild garlic leaves (if you don’t have access to wild garlic, just leave it off or use chives instead)

Method

  • Rinse the vegetables. Trim and halve the beans, divide the broccoli into small florets and cut the tomatoes in half.
  • Bring a pan of water to the boil. Add the green beans and broccoli, bring to the boil again and cook for 5 minutes. (If using frozen cook for 2 minutes.) Drain in a colander and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking process.
  • Peel and cube the potatoes. Heat the oil in a large frying pan and sauté the potatoes on medium heat for 10 minutes (until almost done).
  • Meanwhile beat the eggs in a bowl with the milk and plenty of seasoning, and cut the Camembert into wedges.
  • Add the tomatoes, green beans and broccoli, arranging the florets in a nice pattern if you like.
  • Pour over the egg mixture and place the Camembert wedges on top of everything.
  • Cover with a lid and leave to cook on low heat until the eggs are set (about 10-15 minutes).
  • Meanwhile rinse the wild garlic, pat dry and cut into strips.
  • Just before serving, sprinkle the wild garlic over the frittata.

Enjoy!

Imperfect

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Hello! With my mother-in-law safely installed in her new home (sigh of relief), I have time to write again. So here I am with a story about a cushion cover. That doesn’t sound very interesting, does it? I hope you’ll think differently by the end of the post.

In January, I was given 227 grams of hand-spun and woad-dyed wool yarn with instructions for knitting a cushion cover for a funeral space. Three blue hanks that I wound into cakes.

Three very different yarns: one an Aran weight, one a DK and one with very thin and quite thick bits.

One of the hanks came with a label attached to it. A pretty and interesting label written in Frisian.

How was I going to knit these three different yarns into an even 45×90 cm rectangle? I decided to alternate them – one row in yarn one, one in yarn two and one in yarn three – adding in a few extra rows now and then of the yarn I had more of.

We were instructed to choose from three stitch patterns: seed stitch, double seed stitch and sand stitch. I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough yarn and chose the stitch pattern that would eat up the least – sand stitch: Rows 1 & 3: knit; row 2: k1, p1; row 4: p1, k1.

The yarn wasn’t very soft or pleasant to knit with, and my hands coloured blue. To get it done anyway, I knit while watching DCI Barnaby solve murders in Midsomer. One day, looking at what I had knit the day before I saw oooops – a mistake!

What to do? Rip it out, or……………………………………?

I decided to leave it in, thinking of the artists and craftspeople in some cultures deliberately introducing errors in their work as a reminder that we humans are imperfect. It somehow seemed fitting for a funeral space.

A long time ago, I took a mandala embroidery course. Starting in the centre, we improvised without patterns. We did not deliberately introduce errors, but if we made a mistake, we were told to leave it in and even repeat it and let the rest of the design be guided by it. The idea was to learn to embrace our imperfections.

This was my first mandala, with flowers, butterflies and birds. It was fun to see it grow.

This more abstract one with gold thread accents was my second.

And finally I made one with water lilies and jumping fish.

I don’t remember where I made mistakes and can’t see them now. Also, I’m still a perfectionist, but maybe the mandala course has made me a tiny bit less so.

The mandalas have spent the past 25 years or so in a box and I’d almost forgotten about them. What am I going to do with them? Put them back in their box? Or use them in some way? From top to bottom they are around 30×30, 20×20 and 10×10 centimetres (12×12, 8×8 and 4×4 inches). Ideas welcome!

Back to the cushion cover. I had enough yarn (phew!) and have handed the finished cover over to a friend in the organization. I can’t wait to see how the space will look with my imperfect cushion, the other 59 cushions and the rest of the blue woolly elements. I hope to be able to show you by the end of May.

For the photographs I picked a few flowers from the garden that I thought of as blue. Compared to the blue produced by woad, they look purple.

After rinsing the cushion cover in water with vinegar and then washing it in Eucalan the knitted fabric softened up quite a bit. It retained its peculiar musty smell, though. That’s what your new blue woollen dress or jerkin would have smelled like in previous centuries. Interesting!

Thank you for reading and I hope to see you again next week! xxx

Vinterkongle and Vigdis

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Hello!
Besides finishing this year’s first Norwegian knitting project, I’ve also read this year’s first Norwegian novel. I’ll tell you about both today, and in between I’ll take you on a walk among pine trees. It’s a long post and it’ll have to last you for two weeks, because my mother in law is moving house next week and I probably won’t have much time to write then. Let’s start with some Norwegian knitting.

Vinterkonglegenser
The pullover I’ve knit for our grandson is called Vinterkonglegenser, Norwegian for Winter Pine Cone Pullover. It is knit from the top down, starting with a round yoke with a lovely pine cone design. It never ceases to amaze me what a difference blocking makes. While I’m knitting lace or colourwork, I often think, ‘Meh, it doesn’t look attractive at all.’ But I know everything will be all right after blocking.

Before blocking
After blocking

I didn’t use blocking wires or anything, so I’m not entirely sure I should call it blocking. What I did was soak the pullover in Eucalan for 20 minutes, spin-dry it and leave it to dry flat. Then I covered it with a clean, moist tea towel and hovered over it with the steam iron (on steam).

Instead of picking up underarm stitches, a few extra stitches are cast on, resulting in a hole that is closed later. Seaming it is a little more work, but makes for a nice and strong construction without any gaps.

For the stranded colourwork, I keep one thread in my left hand and the other in my right. And my floats are never longer than 5 stitches. Maybe someday I’ll learn to photograph or film both of my hands so that I can show you the techniques I use.

For our not quite 2-year-old grandson, I knit the size for 6-year-olds, only making the body a little shorter. It turned out exactly the right size for him – weird! I’ll  give you more info and links about the pattern and the knitting book it comes from at the end of the post. If you’re ever going to make anything from the book, do swatch and think carefully about the size you need to make first!

We brought the big pine cones in the pictures back from a summer holiday in France. They are from the maritime pines growing in the Mediterranean. Dutch pine cones are much smaller – here they are side by side.

Pine tree walk
The pine trees around here are European red pines – the kind you may call Scots or Schotch pine. I’ve read that they can live up to 700 years in Scandinavia. Ours were planted here in the early 20th century, mainly to provide wood for the mining industry. Fortunately they are now left to grow in peace.

Last Sunday we first heard and then saw a raven in the top of one. The picture below isn’t great, but you can see how its neck bulges and its head leans forward when it makes its deep ‘cronking’ sound.

I’m thrilled whenever I see or hear one of these huge black birds. Ravens were nearly extinct here a century ago and I’m so glad they are back.

Our walk also took us to a sheep fold. The sheep were out with the shepherd and there weren’t any lambs yet.

Ah well, another time. Did you notice the wreaths on the shutters in the picture above? They are made from wool from the flock. Aren’t they great?

The Story of Ljot and Vigdis
I can decipher a Norwegian knitting pattern, but reading a novel would take me a year so I’m glad there are translations. The short novel by Nobel Prize winner Sigrid Undset I’ve read has two main characters: Ljot and Vigdis. The original title is Fortaellingen om Viga-Ljot og Vigdis, where both get equal weight. It’s interesting to see that the Dutch publisher left rapist Ljot out of the title Vigdis Gunnarsdochter. And even more interesting is how the English publisher reduced strong and independant woman Vigdis to Gunnar’s Daughter in their (probably his) choice of title.

The story is set partly in Norway and partly in Iceland in the Middle Ages. At first glance it looks like a historical novel, but with themes like rape and other forms of violence, marriage problems and how children are affected by their parents’ traumas it could have been set in any place or age. What I liked about it is that nothing is black-and-white, and nobody is either all good or all bad.

Interesting for us, knitters and spinners, is how main character Vigdis is introduced: ‘By the hearth sat two women; one of them was spinning by the light of the fire; she was not very young and was darkly clad, but bright and fair of face. The other was but a young maid, who sat with her hands in her lap doing nothing.’

The young maid is Vigdis, and that she isn’t spinning immediately tells us that she is wealthy and probably spoilt. Spinning wasn’t a hobby back then, but essential for keeping people clad and warm.

Well, I’ll sign off now wishing you a good couple of weeks. Bye!

Links:

  • The pattern of the Vinterkonglegenser isn’t available through Ravelry, but some info and other people’s projects can be found here.
  • More about the knitting book the pattern comes from can be found in this blog post.
  • Some (but not nearly all) other patterns in the book can be viewed here.
  • Needles used: 2.5 and 3.0 mm (US 1½ and 2½ ).
  • Yarn: Sandnes ‘Tynn Merinoull’.

A Trip to Kampen

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Well, I was a tad too optimistic last week about finishing a wee Norwegian sweater. There is no news on the knitting front, and I hope you’ll enjoy a trip to Kampen instead. It’ll be cold and wet, so wrap up warmly and bring an umbrella! We’re walking to the old town centre through the park and one of the three city gates.

It can get quite busy here with tourists in summer, but today it’s just the locals and us. We could go on a guided tour, visit a museum or the cigar factory, but we’re not doing any of that. We’re just here for some shopping and a stroll.

The medieval town hall is very impressive, and there are many other interesting monuments. But what I like even more are the narrow alleys leading off the main shopping street.

One of the nice things about Kampen is that it has many small independent shops. Some of our favourites are the cheese shop, the Italian delicatessen and De Swaen with its handmade chocolates.

I know that some of you are quilters as well as knitters, and thought you might like to visit the quilt shop. The owner writes an inspiring blog, too. I don’t know how she does it – running the shop on her own, being a mum of four, blogging and making beautiful quilts. I’ll just let you browse on your own before we walk on to the river IJssel.

Ah, there you are again. Did you enjoy that? Now, let’s get some fresh air and take a walk along the river. The boats that will be sailing with groups of passengers later in the year are all at home.

Oh, we’re lucky! The Kogge (the replica of a medieval cargo ship) is here, too. Compared to today’s freight ships it’s tiny.

I don’t know about you, but I feel chilled to the bone. Time for some tea or coffee in the restaurant with the swan over the door.

And some sweet treats to go with it. I hope you’ve enjoyed our trip to Kampen. Next week I really hope to have some knitting to talk about. See you then!

Mitts and Mishaps

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Hello!

First of all, thank you for last week’s comments on creativity. They have really given me food for thought. One thing they’ve brought me is that maybe my idea of creativity is too exalted, as if only highly original conceptual art is creative. It would be a good thing for me to value small acts of creativity more, like choosing colours and materials, or changing a few details when following a knitting or sewing pattern. The yin-and-yang view of creativity is new to me and I need some time to digest that. I have a feeling that it could be very valuable.

I’ve just finished a pair of fingerless mitts from a pattern that I’ve knit several times before. This time I’ve made the welts on the cuff multi-coloured (a tiny act of creativity) using yarn left over from the colourwork hats I knit earlier.

I didn’t have enough red yarn left from the hats, but happened to have some of that left over from a cardigan I knit a couple of years back. There is something to be said for using the same yarn again and again – it’s easy to combine and use up the remnants.

Sadly there’s been a mishap with this cardigan knit from Rowan’s Felted Tweed and it’s now a felted Felted Tweed cardigan. I’ve always washed knits from this yarn on wool wash in the washing machine and have never had problems before, but this time I saw there was a problem as soon as I opened the door. Uh-oh! I’d like to blame the washing machine, but perhaps I pushed the wrong button? It hasn’t exactly become child-sized, but too small and stiff for me to wear anymore.

I love Felted Tweed and on the whole am happy with other Rowan yarns, too. But last year I knit a cardigan from their Alpaca Soft DK that looked like this after I’d only worn it a few days.

Really awful pilling that can’t be removed no matter what I try. I’ve even bought a special pill remover, but no luck. I was so disappointed that I put it away for a while, but I’ve pulled it out of the naughty corner and it can be my gardening cardigan from now on.

Back to the fingerless mitts. Their thumb gussets are nicely defined by purl stitches and the fit is great. The pattern can be found here on Ravelry, and there is also a matching welted cowl.

The snowdrops I’ve photographed them with are small ones in our own garden. I saw some very big ones on the corner of someone else’s garden path. They almost looked like plastic, but no, they were real.

Spring bulbs, trees and shrubs are flowering a month earlier here now than they did 50 years ago, according to Nature Today. That’s very unsettling and I almost feel as if I oughtn’t to enjoy them anymore. I still do, though. The crocuses in our garden are doing very well and seeding themselves out in many places.

Maybe someday we’ll have a display like this next to the church in the village of Norg.

These harbingers of spring are telling me that I need to get a move on with the woolly Norwegian sweater for our grandson. I hope to have it finished next week. Hope to see you again then! Xxx

Are You Creative?

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Are you creative? That question has been echoing in my mind for quite some time. Let me tell you how it came about.

In need of new oven mitts, I cycled to a shop and found a pair I liked. Only, they hadn’t been seamed properly and the wadding peeped out in several places. Asking a shop assistant if they had another pair, she asked me in return, ‘Are you creative?’

Am I creative? Uhm………………………

What she meant was, are you skilful enough with needle and thread to repair them? In the end I got the oven mitts at a discount and got ‘creative’ with them at home. I’ve been pondering the question on and off ever since (and that’s been a while as you can see from the state of those mitts).

Are you creative?

Well, basically I just like making things.

I don’t think I’m more creative than most people, and definitely less than some. I like following a pattern and cooking from a recipe. Does that matter? In one sense, not at all. I don’t need to be remembered as that wonderfully creative person. I’m fine with being ordinary. But in a different sense it does, because I have a kind of itch inside. Do you know that feeling? As if there is something inside that wants to get out but you can’t quite grasp it.

Compiling these blog posts scratches that itch a little, but it feels as if there is something more. I’d like to find out what that is. Pondering how to go about that, I’m starting a needle-and-thread project that would count as hugely creative by the shop assistant’s standards and not at all by mine.

Why? Because I urgently need a dose of colour! There are a few pops of colour in the garden –  bright yellow winter aconites, purple and cream crocuses and magenta-pink cyclamen coum.

But on the whole, everything still is mainly brown with some green. I took the picture below in Giethoorn the other day. I long for those hydrangeas to show their blues, pinks and purples again.

Waiting for spring to touch the world with its magical paintbrush, I’ll stitch some colourful stitches, knit a few cosy knits and try to find out what to do about that niggling question.

Are you creative?

Norwegian Knitting and Reading

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Hello! I hope all is well with you and you’re looking forward to the weekend. With a busy time ahead of me, I want to fill this weekend with as much quiet time knitting and reading as possible. The knitting project I started last week ticks two of the boxes on my ‘would-like-to-do list’ for 2024:

  • Norwegian Knitting
  • Make everyday things for my family and myself

It’s a sweater for our grandson with a colourwork yoke.

It isn’t a traditional Norwegian sweater, as it is knit from the top down and has a round yoke. But it comes from a Norwegian knitting book, uses Norwegian wool and has a Norwegian feel to it, so I think it counts. It is the Vinterkonglegenser, or Winter Pine Cone Pullover from Klømpelømpe de vier seizoenen.

The original title is Klømpelømpe strikk året rundt, and the title of the English edition is All-Year-Round Knitting for Little Sweethearts. The English title isn’t very well chosen, because there are quite a few patterns for adults in it, as well. The sweater has a matching hat and trousers to knit.

The pattern describes many sizes, for both children and adults. The swatch I knit, a sweater that fits our grandson now, and the numbers in the pattern told me that I needed to make the size for 6 years. Six?!? Our grandson isn’t even two! Surely that couldn’t be right?

I know that we Dutch are some of the tallest people on the planet, and our grandson is of above average size for a Dutch child, but surely Norwegian 6-year-olds can’t be the size of a 22-month-old Dutch boy? Well, I’ll place my trust in the numbers and if I’m wrong I’ll just rip it out and start anew.

I like the colours the designers used, but am using a very different combo for my grandson. Originally I had chosen a pale taupe for the pine cones…

… but after knitting a few rows I decided that it was rather insipid and swapped it for the golden brown left over from this little fella knit in the same yarn (Sandnes Garn Tynn Merinoull). Much better!

While I sat quietly knitting, a thought popped up. Wouldn’t it be nice to enrich this year’s Norwegian knitting experience with some Norwegian reading alongside? My small Scandinavian library mainly consists of Swedish literature, but there are four Norwegian books (in English and Dutch) among them – three books by Sigrid Undset and one by Trygve Gulbranssen.

The slim book Vigdis Gunnarsdochter* by Sigrid Undset seems like a good choice to accompany the small sweater on my needles, so I’ll start with that. The Norwegian books I own are all older classics and I’ve read two of them before. I’d like to read some new-to-me and/or more recent Norwegian books, too, but have no idea which ones. Suggestions welcome! (I don’t read thrillers).

*Original title Fortaellingen om Viga-Ljot og Vigdis; English translation Gunnar’s Daughter.