i’ve been knitting slowly. well, it’s not so much that my knitting is slow (which it can be), it’s that the project was slow-going, and the yarn and needles are fine. so the progress has been slow. but it is finally finished. it’s a gift i’ve made for someone, so sadly i can’t share a photo of it until it has been given. all i have to show for it are the remnants, a tiny bit of yarn and empty needles…

{ zZZzzzZzzZzzz… }

yes, i realize this is the ultimate trifecta of boring blogging: slow project + plain brown yarn + no photos of the finished thing. but i know if you’ve stuck with me so far, you understand that there is no rush here. so rather than apologize, i’ll thank you instead for being here.

in between rounds, i’ve been reading some books and i always get a little thrill when i come across a reference to knitting. it’s kind of the same feeling when i glimpse some old pyrex in the background of a madmen episode (here is someone who has documented a few of those sightings on her blog. see? i’m not alone in my madness. thank you internets!).

the first few quotations below are all from the same book, rilla of ingleside by l.m.montgomery. it was the only book from the anne of green gable series which i hadn’t yet read. anne has all grown up and has children of her own, and canada is in the early days of world war one. it’s an interesting departure from the idyllic daydreamy life at green gables.  duty to one’s country and finding one’s place in a rapidly changing society are exposed in the way montgomery knows best: from personal experience. she wrote the book soon after the end of ww1 when questions lingered about the sense of it all. and while those thoughts echoed in people’s minds, most did not speak it for fear of sounding unpatriotic. through telling the tale, montgomery describes the roles of women and how they changed through the war years. and although today we have the freedom and leisure to knit for our own reasons, i think most knitters can relate to some of the sentiments expressed.

on finding one’s purpose (knitting socks for soldiers):

“Old Mrs. Albert Mead of Harbour Head manages a pair and a half a day but she has nothing to do but knit. You know… she has been bed-rid for years… and yet could not die and be out of the way. And now they tell me she is quite chirked up and resigned to living because there is something she can do, and she knits for the soldiers from daylight to dark.”

on passing the time (waiting for news from overseas):