Saturday, June 13, 2015

Flowers and Lace

Dear hearts,

Gracious, what a month. When I last I wrote, it was from off the coast of Costa Rica. Today I am a world away, cooling (quite literally) my heels in Iceland. The country is so well known as an earthly Paradise for knitters I need scarcely mention it, but mention it I will. Home base is dear little Reykjavik, where this morning I paused on the street to glance over at the glacier, as one does.

I have driven out from the city to a favorite cliff by the sea, where the only sounds are the pleasant din of the waves and the amiable cries of the puffins. A text message from dearest Dash promises that he will soon join me with a hamper of iced buns and warm coffee. The man has exquisite timing.

Before he arrives, I have a moment to celebrate our newest monthly contest winner. We had heaps of beautiful entries this month, darlings. Heaps. Had they arrived by carrier pigeon, we would have run through fifty pounds of birdseed. We do hope those not selected will feel encouraged to please try again.

At length, we have settled upon an finished object from Lorraine, who expanded on the wonder that is Anne-Lise Maigaard's "Vestland." We felt that you simply must see it.

Writes Lorraine, "I came across the pattern in the Ravelry group enVision, where they regularly have KAL's for exceptional lace designs, and frequently in fingering weight yarns." We are so pleased that you did, Lorraine.

Lorraine wishes to note that would usually take just two skeins, but she enlarged it to suit her taste. In total, the piece required three skeins (plus a bit) of Train Case. "I really love the African Grey colourway," she says. We find it to be a perfect pairing.

Lorraine, darling, what you must do next is drop us a note at so that we may arrange for selection and delivery your prize skeins.

And to all, we hope you will begin to think about submitting your work for future months.

Dash has just arrived, smelling of coffee and cinnamon and sandalwood shaving soap; and so discreetly  I draw the metaphorical curtain. Hide your eyes, puffins.

Yours ever,
Mrs. Crosby