bittersweet

Ripe sloe berries out in the hedgerows then in our foraging basket are a sure sign that summer's coming to an end...but that sloe gin (or patxaran) for Christmas is in sight. 

jacob's ladder sweater (CO)

The days are getting steadily shorter, but not any colder. If it weren't for the ferns turning the mountainside russet red, or field trips with N collecting basketfulls of walnuts, I'd swear we were at the start of summer, not autumn. 

There was only thing for it. Put on a flowery frock, walk barefoot in the summer meadows and cast on a pretty summer sweater in some recycled 4 ply cotton whilst we wait for the north wind to start blowing the leaves off the trees! 

(Not that I'm in any hurry for the snow to arrive by the way, even if I would quite like to try on my new hat...)

early morning sounds

 

A rumble of distant thunder. The pitter patter of rain on the rooftop. The coffee pot gurgling on the stove. The snip snip snip of my scissors. The whirring of the sewing machine as it wakes up after it's long hibernation.

cotton

Whilst tidying up my yarn basket the other day, I came across a wonderful discovery right at the bottom: seventeen balls of gorgeous cotton four ply from an unknown yarn brand. I'd found them early in the year whilst on a rummage at one of our favourite second hand shops down the valley and forgotten about it until now. Just goes to show, sometimes it's a good idea to have a tidy-up...

Fibre: Cotton

Yarn weight: Fingering / 4 ply (14 wpi)

Stash: 17 skeins, 850g (giving 2040m) 

Price: Part of a large basket of recycled/second hand yarn costing 20€ in total. (So probably the whole lot cost me no more than a euro!)

shwook hat (spun & knitted)

Morning tea in the grey light of dawn. The last twinkles of the stars in the sky. Slowly the day breaks, pink and orange behind the summits. 

All the while, my needles are clicking back and forth. As a small patch of pale blue sky arrives, I have cast off. 

By the time the first rays of the hot sun reach our balcony an hour later, my tea has grown cold. But all the ends are woven in, and my hat is finished. 

All I need now is for this hot wind to die down and I'll be able to start wearing it!  

Pattern: Shwook hat,* knitted in honour of Shetland Wool Week, joining in with Melody's KAL.
Needles: 3.75 mm and 4.5 mm
Yarn: my own (hand-spun):

néou
nère
pinha
nougèr
mesclats

*Because the yarn didn't turn out quite as expected, I ended up having "hack" the pattern a little to make it work. Once I've properly finished ravelling the project, I'll put the details up over there.

chestnuts

He often comes back from his mountain walks pockets bulging with gifts for me, his girl. Today, there were bilberries, rose-hips, parasol mushrooms (my favourite). And chestnuts. Our first chestnuts. Autumn must be coming after all.

walnuts

Walnuts all over. All sizes and colours. Some hiding in their green jackets, some waving to us from high in the trees' branches, some hidden amongst the golden leaves that carpet the ground. Baskets, pockets, bags and hands full. Fingers stained black. Basket-fulls of walnuts. Bucketfulls of black husks, gradually ready for a dye bath in a few weeks. Not yet chilly autumn air that is filled with the scent of early autumn.

shwook hat (KAL)

Shetland Wool Week is finally here! And against all the odds, I've managed to get all my yarn spun, finished (and almost dry!) ready to cast on my Shwook Hat over the weekend.  

Yarn-wise, things haven't exactly turn out as I had expected when I first starting planning this project in August. I was really pleased with my first samples and especially my swatches and had decided to embark on a woolen spin as the gorgeous lofty finish and airy quality seemed more in keeping with the spirit of Shetland yarn and Fair Isle knitting.  However something must have happened from then until now and somehow without meaning to, I ended up not only spinning semi-worsted, but also in a heavier yarn weight than I was supposed to! (If you haven't already had enough technical jargon, somehow I jumped from fingering (14 wpi) to worsted-weight (9 wpi)!)

Still, c'est pas grave! I've cast on regardless, having first taken a good bit of time working out my own version of the Shwook hat...to fit my larger-than-expected yarns.

 It's looking good so far, I'm just a little concerned about the crown...

mesclats (spun)

My first time blending two colours of fibre together with my hand combs to produce a mixed yarn - “mesclats” - yarn. I’m delighted with the fuzzy texture and espeacially the colourway.

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"mesclats"

Ingredients: 35g of washed fleece, blended together whilst carding. The fleeces used were  white (20g) and brown (crossed) (15g) Berrichon du Cher, from Gèdre.

Carding:The two fleeces were blended together whilst on the handcombs before being rolled into rolags.

 

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique.

 

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 44g giving 44m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

 

nougèr (spun)

After spinning and plying, I dyed the finished yarn using a natural plant dye prepared from the late summer leaves of the walnut tree, “nougèr” in the local dialect.

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"nougèr"

Ingredients: 32g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was white Berrichon du Cher, from Gèdre.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. 

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply. Naturally dyed with foraged walnut leaves.

Quantity: 30g giving 32m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

pinha (spun)

The natural greyish brown fleece of the Berrichon cross made me think immediately of the pine cones - “pinha” - that litter the forest floors of the valley at this time of year.

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"pinha"

Ingredients: 38g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was black Berrichon cross, from Gèdre.

 

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. .  

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 35g giving 38m of finished yarn

 

WPI: 9

 

Yarn Weight: DK

 

nère (spun)

I began spinning this naturally black fleece - “nère” - as the days started getting slightly shorter. With the arrival of the night a little earlier each day, I’ve started thinking about my plans for the darker (and colder) evenings.

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"nère"

Ingredients: 40g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was black Barègeoise, shorn on the hillside during the Fête des bergers.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. .  

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 40g giving 56m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

 

néou (spun)

The autumn is slowly creeping into the valley and soon the first snow - “néou” - will fall on the surrounding hills. It’s time to bring the flocks down from the pastures ready for the arrival of winter.

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"néou"

Ingredients: 25g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was white Berichon du Cher from Gèdre.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. Spun out in the fields at Payolle. 

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 22g giving 18m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

trois nuits sous les pins

Trois heures pour y aller, trois heures pour en revenir, le nez au vent, les yeux brillants et le cœur léger à arpenter le sud ouest de la France. Lourdes. Pau. Dax. Et enfin la mer. 

Trois nuits sous les pins, à se délecter des couleurs des fougères, à cueillir la calune, à écouter le brame du cerf, le cri de la hulotte, le vent dans les arbres. 

Trois jours à être si heureux d'être là, de revoir la mer. De respirer un peu. De s'échapper. Avec mon amour.

standing still

We went to Lourdes and had a picnic by the lake. 

A kingfisher darted back and forth, nothing more than a flash of russet and bright blue skimming across the limpid waters. 

But not everything in nature rushed around. A heron stood for over an hour, poised and concentrated, waiting patiently for the right moment. 

Not everything in nature rushes around. Why should I? 

golden days

Late summer days spent with his parents, then mine. Golden, sun drenched days wrapped up in a total disregard for time, where the big event of the day is going for a picnic, and the only decision to be taken is which mountain meadow to visit next.

I adored their two week holiday out here with us, so quickly settling back into the familiarity of their company. It felt good to have them in our valley, tucked up in their cosy little gîte on the other side of the stream. To be able to just pop round for a cup of tea in their garden each day on my way home from school.

We walked along familiar paths, learnt tai-chi in the open air, gorged ourselves on the last of the bilberries and swam in icy mountain lakes. We made dinner for one another, caught up on news, knitted in the garden and drank coffee in nearly every café in the village. 

I soaked up every ray of late summer sun, every drop of family time. Like last year, precious memories to hold on to when Autumn eventually falls into our laps.

lake side

I'm not quite ready to fold summer away just yet. There'll be time enough for knitting cardigans and gathering walnuts, for curling up beside the fire with a good book or making the first batch of spicy pumpkin soup. For now, I'm revelling in these last, most glorious days of summer. 

Up in the mountains, there are still bilberries to be picked. Unexpected foxgloves blooming around hidden corners. And lakes which just need to be swum in... 

The colder the water...the more we laugh! 

bilberries

The hillsides are still full of myrtilles sauvages, wild bilberries. Knowing that this glut isn't going to last, we could have picked bucketfulls of these gorgeous little fruits to turn into jams or tartes in the kitchen back at home. But we preferred to follow the lead from the flocks of sheep: sit down and gorge ourselves on the hillside, straight from the bush.