books

Gulbranssen and Pieck

by

Hello! While I am knitting a pair of Norwegian (Selbu) mittens, I am also reading a Norwegian novel, or actually it’s three novels in one – the Bjørndal trilogy by Trygve Gulbranssen. It’s about the life and times of Dag Bjørndal, who lives in an unspecified place in the Norwegian mountains and trades in everything his lands and forests yield – wood, furs, meat, grain. We follow Dag from a young age until his death. Although the story is set in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, its theme is still just as current today: money, the power that comes with it, and how it can be abused or used for good.

The lovely monogrammed felt book mark was a gift from my friend Froukje. She writes about making them in this blog post (scroll down a little).

Some people find the books slow going, but I think they are magnificent. It’s not just the development of Dag’s character that’s fascinating, but also the people around him, the glimpses we get of Norwegian society at the time, and the descriptions of everyday life and the landscape.

The copy I inherited is a Dutch translation, with photographs from a 1960 Austrian film based on the books as well as illustrations by Dutch artist Anton Pieck. The film pictures are so horrible that I’m thinking of tearing them out. But Pieck’s illustrations are fabulous – just look at how the smoke curls up from the chimney of this log cabin among the pine trees:

And see how he depicts the forest creatures that cause rumbling noises and landslides in the mountains dancing with the naked young beauties who lure people into steep and dangerous ravines with their song:

Seeing these pictures gave me the idea of visiting the Anton Pieck museum. It isn’t far away from us at all, but we’d never been there. So on the Monday before New Year’s eve we set off for Hattem. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to show you any of the photographs I’ve taken inside. Bummer!

What I can do, is take you on a walk through this lovely town. Anton Pieck is best known for his nostalgic town scenes, and walking through Hattem’s old centre is like being inside some of his paintings (bar the cars and bicycles).

Behind the deep green yew hedge, there’s a communal herb garden where the inhabitants of Hattem can come and pick herbs for their meals and tisanes.

The square beside the Church is one of my favourite spots in the town. Even nicer in spring and summer with the potted plants flowering, but still lovely on a gloomy winter’s day.

After a short walk we arrive at the Anton Pieck museum, with its cheerful blue door and shutters.

As I said, I can’t take you inside, but you can get an impression of Anton Pieck’s work from the Museum website and even better from this website dedicated to his work.

While Anton Pieck’s cobbled streets are always crowded with pedlars, women wearing shawls and carrying shopping baskets, children with hoops, cats, dogs, chimney sweeps etcetera, the streets in Hattem are deserted on the day of our visit.

At the end of this alley, a house with a bell gable is called De Halve Maen:

The wealthy merchant to whom this house once belonged may well have bought wood for his roof beams or furniture from a Norwegian trader like Dag Bjørndal, helping to fill up the trader’s intricately decorated coffers with silver.

In his middle years Dag becomes more and more obsessed with filling his coffers and investing in real estate, but later on he mends his ways and says, ‘It is the money grabbing that has got the upper hand in our lives, and that makes that many people are struggling unnecessarily. A man must spread heart warmth around him if he wants to have peace, and that will benefit others as well.’ [Trygve Gulbranssen, Het geslacht Bjørndal, uitg. M.C. Stok, The Hague, date unknown, p. 529, my translation] If only more people came to that insight in their old age (or preferably earlier).

With Dag’s piece of wisdom, I’m leaving you for now. I hope to be back with some knitting next week. Take care!

Slow August – Yarn

by

Hello! Today it’s all about yarn – a subject that I’m fairly sure will speak to all of you knitters out there.

“Yarn is essential to us as paint is to the artist, flour to the baker, soil to the gardener. We can improvise on most of the tools, tying string into a stitch marker, sanding down a bamboo chopstick in a pinch. But without yarn, our hands are idle.”
– Clara Parkes in A Stash of One’s Own: Knitters on Loving, Living with, and Letting Go of Yarn (New York: Abrams, 2017, p.7)

I am slowly sifting through my yarns, petting and organizing them. Here are some of them. Organic everyday yarn on my needles…

Traditional Norwegian yarn with a plan…

Yarn dyed by a dyer living nearby, purchased recently without a plan (something I rarely do anymore)…

Merino singles yarn in four shades of blue for which a plan is beginning to form – a gift from one of my best friends dyed by herself…

Ordinary sock yarn for two pairs of everyday socks for my beloved everyday companion…

Luxurious cashmere yarn, very affordable if you buy mill ends (leftovers), that has lived under our roof for over a decade and I hope to knit up into a luscious lace shawl someday…

Golden brown sock yarn made with a very humble fibre…

Yarn worth its weight in gold if you count the hours it’s taken me to make it – mohair from a local goat breeder that I washed, combed and carded, blended on my drum carder together with some merino and silk someone didn’t want anymore, and then spun and plied. To dye or not to dye, that is the question…

I do have (considerably) more yarn than this, but maybe not quite as much as Kay Gardiner, who calls herself a minimalist and writes about her yarn: “Yarn to the rafters. Yarn in my closet. Yarn in everyone else’s closet. Yarn in the enamel-over-steel covered roasting pan that only gets used at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Shopping bags of yarn that I have to step over every night to draw the blinds in my bedroom.”
– Kay Gardiner, “The Minimalist Speaks”, p. 57 in the same book as above.

The essays in A Stash of one’s Own are fun and often thought-provoking. Here is one last quote: “… I’ve learned that not all collections are created equal. There are acceptable things to collect and those that are less so. […] It’s been my experience that a bountiful yarn stash is perceived as a distinct indication you are slightly nutty and lack restraint.” Anna Maltz, “Morning Yarn / Portable Stories”, p. 81.

Nutty or not, I treasure my yarn collection. To me, it is beautiful, comforting and inspiring in and of itself.

Slowing down for August

by

Hello! Almost August. All schools are closed. Many people are away on holiday or will be going soon. And even more people have come to spend their summer holidays here, cycling and canoeing, sailing and sightseeing. We’re not going anywhere (having already had a holiday in May), but I do feel the need to slow down a bit. Usually I’m buzzing about like a bee, but in August, I’d like to be more like a snail, taking things slow and withdrawing into my shell from time to time.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be here, on my blog, but it does mean that my posts will take on a different shape. Maybe I’ll send you a few ‘postcards’. Maybe I’ll take you along on an outing. Maybe I’ll have some knitting or other crafts inspiration to share. I don’t know yet, but I’m fairly sure my August posts will involve fewer words. Today’s post will still be an ordinary chatty one,  though, with some knitting, two books and a few other small things.

My Lang Yndlingskofte is growing nicely.

Only the yoke has colourwork in it – the rest is just plain stocking stitch. So there’s room for some more Norwegian colourwork alongside. I already have the idea and yarn for that and can start swatching.

Speaking of swatching, I’ve knit a couple of swatches using Ístex Léttlopi. I’ve never used it before because it feels rather, ehm, rustic on the skein. I very much want to like it, though, because it comes in so many beautiful colours, is an ideal weight for warm winter sweaters and because it comes from Iceland. But won’t it be terribly scratchy? Will I be able to wear it at all?

After knitting and washing the swatches, it feels considerably softer. Not supersoft, but maybe just about soft enough to wear. Should I give it a try and use it for a sweater? Have you ever used it? What do you think?

The pink sweet peas next to the swatches were a thank-you gift from my knitting student’s garden. Aren’t they gorgeous? In our last lesson before the summer break, she finished the wedding ring cushion she’s been knitting for her sister’s upcoming wedding. For the scalloped edges she also had to learn to crochet – a steep learning curve, but she did it! Before the ceremony, the wedding rings will be fastened to the cushion with the ribbon tied in a bow.

The cushion measures approximately 14 x 14 cm/5½ x 5½ in. We substituted a mercerized cotton for the silk yarn used in the pattern, and an improvised scalloped edging for the pattern’s simple one.

The pattern is from Luxury Yarn One-Skein Wonders: 101 Small Indulgences (Storey Publishing 2008, Ed. Judith Durant). The book can be found here on Ravelry. There is a whole series of these One-Skein Wonders books (Designer, Lace, Sock-yarn One-Skein Wonders etc.) and each one is filled with great ideas for small gifts.

While knitting on the Norwegian Lang Yndlingskofte I’ve also been reading a Norwegian novel – The Ice Palace by Tarjei Vesaas (NO: Is-slottet; NL: Het ijspaleis). It is about two young girls: outgoing and popular Siss and quiet and withdrawn Unn. Shortly after they become fast friends, Unn disappears and Siss more or less freezes. It is a story of loss, grief and healing in which a frozen waterfall (the ice palace of the title) plays an important part.

It’s a beautifully written and poetic story that couldn’t be anything else but Norwegian. Here is a quote (Penguin Modern Classics edition, p. 91):

“The pine needles stretch their tongues and sing an unfamiliar nocturnal song. Each tongue is so small that it cannot be heard; together the sound is so deep and powerful that it could level the hills if it wished.”

What I found particularly moving was how the girls’ classmates gather round and support Siss. In that sense The Ice Palace is the antithesis of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies with its children turning into little savages. The Ice Palace is a true gem – thank you for the tip E.!

I hope to read another Norwegian book in August, and also hope to have lots of quiet spinning time.

Before closing off, here is one last thing – the second of my embroidered cross stitch bees. (This one was a great exercise in French knots.) On the whole I don’t like tiles, artwork or crafts projects with “Be Happy” on them. To me, it feels like a brusque command to do something I’m afraid I’ll fail miserably at. Happiness is such a fleeting thing.

But this time I’m taking it to mean:

May you be happy, may you be well, may you be peaceful and at ease for many moments every day.

A far less catchy and embroiderable phrase, I know, but I prefer this kind of nuance and gentleness. Whether you’re staying at home or going away on holiday, this is my wish for all of you.

Lillebaelt in Sage

by

Our daughter has a green soul. She is an ecologist with a special interest in herbs. Small wonder that she has chosen a pullover made of all natural materials in a shade called sage, after the herb about which an old proverb says, ‘Eat sage in May and you’ll live for aye’. Well, there is enough in our garden to eat sage every day of the year.

The yarn combo for her pullover consists of one thread of animal fibres for softness and warmth (Isager Alpaca 2, 50% merino wool/50% alpaca), and one thread of plant fibres for strength (Isager Trio 1, 50% linen/30% cotton/20% lyocell). Together they make a lovely marled, open and drapey fabric.

The pattern by Danish designer Annette Danielsen is called Lillebaelt. The knit-and-purl motifs at the tops of front, back and sleeves were inspired by Lillebaeltsbroen, the bridge over the Little Belt strait in Denmark, between Jutland and Funen.

(The part of our daughter’s garden where we’ve taken the photographs is being transformed into a herb-and-fruit patch. In a couple of years the now bare fence will hopefully be hidden behind an apple tree, grapes, climbers and berry shrubs.)

I struggled with the sets of double decreases next to each other on the shoulders, getting a gaping ladder between them.

After trying out all kinds of other decreases first, I’ve finally decided to seam the shoulders on the inside with mattress stitch. A simple but adequate solution.

The shape of the shoulders looks strange but fits really well.

The pullover has nice side vents, and the back is a little longer than the front.

Apart from the shoulder issue, I think this is a great, well thought-out pattern. And a fairly quick knit, too. I knit it in a little over a month, only working on it in the evenings for an hour or two max, and a little more during weekends.

The Lillebaelt pattern is from Annette Danielsen’s book Fynsk Forår (Spring in Funen). It has beautiful photos of the places, art and architecture in the island of Funen that inspired the designs. I think it’s absolutely wonderful how Danielsen translates for instance a seascape by Johannes Larsen…

…into a pullover with a wave pattern she calls Fynsmalerne.

Annette Danielsen has written some 50 knitting books (in Danish) and quite a few of them have been translated into German. As far as I know they are not available in English, but that isn’t necessarily an insurmountable problem. As a knitter, you’ll probably recognize the knitting terms and otherwise they can always be looked up. Danielsen can be found here on Ravelry, but not nearly all of her designs. Her website can be found here. Lillebaelt wasn’t on Ravelry yet, but I’ve added it to the database and you can find it here.

That’s all for today. Thank you for reading, don’t forget to eat plenty of sage in May, and ‘til next time!

The Joy of Making

by

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!

Vinterkongle and Vigdis

by

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’.

Norwegian Knitting and Reading

by

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.

Child’s Play?

by

Hello!

Last week my search for something simple to knit took me to Joure. This week it’s taking me to the past. Looking for inspiration on my book shelves, I came upon my very first knitting books.

For several years Ik leer breien (I’m learning to knit) parts 1, 2 and 3 were the only knitting books in our home. On the whole, knitting wasn’t something learnt from books, but rather from (grand)mothers, aunts, cousins or neighbours. And at school, of course. We did have a few magazines, too, I think, but most of those came later.

These three booklets were written by Mrs. A. H. Beyst, Needle Crafts Education Consultant for the City of Rotterdam (can you imagine having a job like that?). They were published by the International Wool Secretariat and the Dutch knitting yarn industry, and that shows. Besides knitting, they teach us a LOT about wool and yarn production – from sheep to skein.

 ‘Texel also has many sheep, but the best wool comes from Australia’, the International Wool Secretariat tells us. I skipped these parts of the booklets as a child (boring!), but find them interesting and amusing now.

There is no publication date in any of the booklets, but they came into my life around 1970, when I looked like this.

I remember the school photographer asking me to take off my hood and me refusing. It was cold and the hood was so nice and comfy.

Part one is aimed at children aged 6-10. It starts out with really simple, nice projects suitable for children that age, like this garter stitch sleeping bag for twin dollies.

It has a steep learning curve, though, with part one already explaining short rows. Personally, I wasn’t enthusiastic about the tea cosy, but I did enjoy knitting several striped clothes hanger covers.

In part 2 (for children aged 8 and up) we were taught to knit als grote mensen (like grown-ups), i.e. socks and mittens on 4 needles.

Although at that age I already was an avid knitter, I wasn’t really interested in knitting socks yet. And part 3 of the series (for the same age group) lost my interest completely. It is the weirdest little book, filled with endless variations on stitch patterns – knit-purl combinations, ribbing, lace, and most of all page upon page of slip-stitch patterns.

What was Mrs. A. H. Beyst thinking? Was she trying to put children off knitting for life?

Now, over 50 years later, I’m looking at Ik leer breien 3 with different eyes, seeing possibilities. Over the past week, I’ve been knitting swatches using and varying on slip-stitch and other stitch patterns from the booklet. I think there is something there that I could use for a simple project.

Slip stitches have become popular over the past few years, with Stephen West’s Slipstravaganza shawl as the most awe-inspiring example. For copyright reasons I can’t post a picture here, but it can be found here on Stephen’s website and here on Ravelry.

A picture of what I’d like to make and what yarn I could use is beginning to form in my mind. I don’t know exactly what it’s going to be yet, but I think it’ll include slip stitches and I’m certain that it’ll be far, far simpler and less flamboyant than Stephen’s creation.

Do you have old knitting books or magazines that you treasure, too? Or did you learn knitting entirely without them? I’d love to read about your memories!

The Beauty of Green Things

by

Hello!

‘On some day of late January, when the honey-coloured west is full of soft grey cloud, when one lone minstrel thrush is chanting to the dying light, what is the thrill that shakes us?’ This is how Mary Webb starts The Spring of Joy (first published in 1917), a lovely collection of essays about the healing power of nature. This ‘thrill that shakes us’, she writes, is a sense of ‘oneness with all beauty, seen and unseen’.

It is early February now, and unlike the south of the country we haven’t had any snow so far. Over the past month the sky has often been ‘full of soft grey cloud’. Or a uniform dull grey. Or pouring with rain. How can we experience a sense of oneness with all beauty on days like that?

Well, there are subtler things than stunning sunsets and spectacular snowscapes. Webb writes about the beauty to be found in the movements, sounds and scents of nature. Or in shadow or shape. In the presence of an old oak tree…

… surrounded by sheep and buffeted by an invigorating breeze I know what she means.

In this little gem of a book, there is also an essay about The Beauty of Colour. According to Webb, ‘Of all colours, brown is the most satisfying.’ I don’t know about that, but I do agree with her when she writes: ‘In blue the spirit can wander, but in green it can rest’.

On the whole blue is my favourite colour – my spirit loves to wander. But at the moment I am also strongly drawn to green.

I’ve finished the Norwegian-patterned mittens for our daughter, woven in the ends and washed them. The last thing to do now is knitting in the linings. While the mittens were drying, I made a start on a green cardigan for our grandson knit from the top down:

The lovely fir-tree-like pattern along the raglan increases posed quite a puzzle. It’s taken me several attempts to get the hang of it, but I’m on the right track now.

And looking for something else, I came across a skein of a beautiful green tweed yarn. It’s been in my stash for a long, long time. Now I’d love to knit it up into something special, but what? A pair of mittens? A cowl? A hat?

Speaking of the beauty of green things and the healing power of nature, I’ve just finished reading Landlines by Raynor Winn. A dear friend gave it to me as a birthday gift last year. I didn’t read it straightaway but kept it to have something to look forward to for January. This is the hardcover edition – it is worth having for the beautiful dust jacket alone.

It is also very much worth reading. Landlines is actually the third book in a series. I haven’t read the first two (The Salt Path and The Wild Silence), but that wasn’t a problem – it can be read on its own.

The author’s husband, Moth, has a neurodegenerative disorder (similar to Parkinson and Alzheimer) for which there is no cure. He is told that his condition will only deteriorate. After this devastating diagnosis and subsequently losing their home, they make the unusual decision to walk the 630-mile-long South West Coast Path (described in the first book). This turns out to lead to a miraculous improvement in Moth’s health.

In Landlines, Moth’s health has gone downhill again and the couple set out for another long-distance walk, this time starting in the north of Scotland. It’s a moving personal story with unexpected twists and turns, interesting encounters and insights, and beautiful descriptions of the landscape and wildlife along the way.

Well, I’m going to make a start on the mitten linings now and hope to have them finished by next week. To close off here is a picture of some twists and turns in our most recent non-so-long-distance walk. Take care! xxx

NB: De boeken van Raynor Winn zijn ook in het Nederlands vertaald: Het zoutpad, De wilde stilte en Landlijnen.

Norwegian Mitten Inspiration

by

Hello!

Knitting 24 tiny Norwegian Advent mittens and a pair of normal sized ones, has made me put ‘more Norwegian knitting’ on my list for 2023. That doesn’t necessarily mean more mittens, but looking for inspiration, I first of all pulled several Norwegian mitten books from my bookshelves. I thought you might like to look along with me.

The first one is Mittens from around Norway, by Nina Granlund Sæther:

This English translation of an originally Norwegian book contains 43 mitten patterns from many different parts of the country. There is obviously a lot of colourwork, but also some cables, knit-and-purl patterns, and a little lace.

There are large and clear photographs of the finished mittens and also photos of the museum pieces they were inspired by. With one or two exceptions, the mittens have been knit in widely available Norwegian yarns.

The next book is Selbuvotter: Biography of a Knitting Tradition by Terri Shea, also in English:

This is solely about black-and-white mittens (and gloves) in the Selbu tradition. The author has researched and reproduced part of the mitten collection of The Nordic Heritage Museum in Seattle as well as mittens from a private collection.

This book provides quite a bit of historical information and also goes into special techniques. It contains patterns for 31 pairs of mittens and gloves. Shea used Norwegian yarns for many of them, but also Shetland as well as some other yarns.

I brought the next publication home from a visit to Selbu (about 70 km south-east of Trondheim) – Selbustrikk:

This is only a thin booklet, but it contains a wealth of inspiration for mittens and gloves, as well as socks, hats and a few scarves. Again, everything in traditional black-and-white. It is in Norwegian, but the diagrams speak a universal language. By far the most of the patterns use Rauma Gammelserie yarn, and some of them Rauma Finull garn.

A must-see if you ever get the opportunity to visit this part of Norway is the Selbu Folk Museum, or Bygdemuseum. The museum has a lovely collection of mittens and other knitwear. My husband took the photo at the top of this post during our visit there. Here is a closer look:

Awe-inspiring, all those finely knit, beautifully patterned mittens and other knits, don’t you think?

Zooming out again to the entire country, here is one of the most beautiful knitting books on my shelves: Håndplagg til Bunader og Folkedrakter:

This 300-page tome (in Norwegian) is crammed with mittens, gloves and wrist warmers in all kinds of different knitting techniques. Many of them are embellished with embroidery or beads. The photography is stunning, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of leafing through this book. So inspiring!

All of the above is inspiration FOR Norwegian mittens But why not take inspiration FROM Norwegian mittens as well?

Our next-door neighbours are expecting their first grandchild any day, and I thought I’d knit her a wee hat. I took the striped hat from Debbie Bliss’ Baby Cashmerino 2 booklet as a starting-point. But instead of knitting stripes, I looked at my Advent mittens for inspiration and came up with this:

A simple Norwegian-mitten-inspired baby hat – a satisfying little knit.

After looking through all these amazing mitten books, I still have no idea what my next Norwegian or Norwegian-inspired project is going to be. More mittens? Gloves or wrist warmers? Socks? A hat? Or even an entire sweater? Whatever it’s going to be, I’ll keep you posted!

Links:

If you’d like to read more about Norwegian mittens and can’t get hold of any of the books I’ve described, there is always the internet, of course.