Needling

On a wintry afternoon some months ago, I traded a batch of freshly-baked jelly cakes for the secrets of the sticks. Well ... needles. Like so many other things, learning to knit's been on the to-do list for a long time. There was an early foray into knitting many years ago which resulted in 20 centimetres of misshapen stitchwork, no doubt abandoned for some other short-lived craft dalliance.

The offer (from the lovely Sam) of afternoon tea and stitching was too good an opportunity to let slip. In between cups of tea, ginger slices and jelly cakes, I managed to master the art of casting on (even if my stitching was somewhat inconsistent to begin with).

My first piece of advice to beginner knitters: choose chunky wool, preferably with variegated thicknesses. For learners figuring out how tight their wool tension should be, it can be quite forgiving.

My second piece of advice to newbies: just because you've mastered casting on, think about how wide your knitting should be and stop accordingly! My scarf ended up much wider than I was anticipating, as a result of my overenthusiastic casting on. Which leads me to my third piece of advice...

Point three: make sure you buy enough wool for your project before you begin. My three balls of wool may have been plenty at first, but because I made the scarf too wide I ran out of wool before I reached my desired length. Irritatingly, the wool was a discontinued line and after eight phone calls and hours of trawling the web, I managed to find some of the same batch from a craft shop interstate. Lesson learnt.

I'm impressed with myself for actually finishing this ... in time for summer. Knitting's proven to be an effective way to turn off my brain at the end of the day, although progress on my second item has been considerably slower than the first. Good thing winter is nine months away, given the next item's been promised to Ol...

Excitable

The Pointer Sisters. They were so excited, and they just couldn't hide it. Okay, so maybe they don't appear to be living the dream on this particular album sleeve. But they weren't afraid to shout about it, accompanied by a disco beat.

I've been dealing with a client over the past couple of weeks who has not been afraid to express her excitement over the project we've been working on. One thing I've rediscovered about excitement: it's contagious.

As adults, we seem to lose our capacity for getting excited about things, in the same way we get excited about things as children. We grow up; we get serious. Where did it go? Will I ever be excited about anything ever again? Seeing a client expressing genuine excitement over something you've created is so rewarding, personally and professionally. It's a fantastic day at the office.

Elizabeth

Confession

This is only going to work if we’re honest with each other. I have a confession: a fondness for crocheted nanna rugs. It doesn’t stem from some long-held nostalgic childhood memory, sadly. (Although that would be a great excuse.)

Perhaps it’s respect for the hours of labour involved in their construction. Considering the low prices these blankets sell for in op-shops (the natural habitat for the nanna rug), this works out to be a terrible hourly rate. Maybe it’s admiration for their courageous use of colour – using hues any self-respecting designer would never ordinarily pair together.

Having never crocheted myself, I do have great respect for the craft. As time passes, it makes me sad to think of these kaleidoscopic pixel rugs disappearing (much like their creators). Perhaps there is a new hope though … go Cate!

Beginnings

Starting a blog is an ambition that’s been on my 'to-do' list for some time. This ambition has not been lonely, for it has plenty of other friends on my 'to-do' list equally wanting a minute of my time.

So why blog? Here my interests in design, creativity and writing can converge. This is a place to share my crafty successes (and failures), to tell the stories of those who inspire me and explore the beautiful and the whimsical in this world.

Welcome.