Skip to main content

Yarn Along

I was channeling the little old lady that lives inside me this week and knitted a doily with a crocheted edge. As this is my first attempt, I have some questions for any seasoned doily makers out there.

First, I loved how it looked all blocked on the mats. But after it was dry and I started to remove it, it immediately curled up a bit. Is there anything I should have done to prevent this from happening? I recently bought some antique doilies here in Germany and they seem to have some kind of starch or something because they don't curl up or become misshapen. Is it old age and dirt? I don't know.






As for reading, I made tremendous headway this week. With the temps in the 3 digit category, we took the kids to the village pool. The water was so cold that Peter's lips were as blue as the water after thirty minutes. I took him back to our towels laid out on the grass and wrapped him up, where he fell asleep almost instantly. So for one glorious hour, I sat in the shade of a tree with my son sleeping next to me, reading. I can safely say that I am enjoying Willa Cather's "Shadows on the Rock", though I wish I could read French or that they would translate the French passages.

Joining Ginny, as usual.

Comments

  1. I think it might have to do with the yarn/thread you're using. I have some Belgian doilies that were given to me by my son's German teacher (she's a native Belgian). I have intended to have them framed (for years) and they are stiff, but the thread they are made with is very fine and stiff itself. It also must be starched, otherwise I don't think it would be so stiff. Your design is beautiful!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Door Table

Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell abo

Fog and faith

 I stepped out into the coolness of the November morning to start the car and defog the windows, preparing to take Jack to school. Daylight had yet to appear. As we drove the many miles, the sky lightened, and we could see the mist hanging out just above the grass. We usually listen to a story together on our drive, adding commentary, exchanging a knowing glance or a shocked expression as the twists and turns unfold. I relish this time with Jack. I know that all too soon he will be preparing to leave the nest, like his sisters before him.  On the drive back, I pull my rosary from my purse and pray. By this time, the sun is just about to appear, making the sky a beautiful orange-pink on the horizon. I am pondering much as I pray, for the path I am on is once again rocky and uncertain. Such is life, whether we have faith or not. Faith makes it bearable. For the most part, the road home is a straight shot and I can see the ribbon of road laid out before me, narrowing in the distance. The

A Tale of a Tail (or the excitement of the day)

 First of all, I doubt anyone still checks this little old neglected blog, so I am probably talking to myself right now. But if by chance, there is still someone out there, I will tell the tale of the tail I came to tell. As little boys are apt to do, Peter left his rainboots outside on the front porch several days ago. As they do not add to the decor on the porch, I decided to bring them inside this morning and I put them by the back door, where they belong. There they sat, until the mail truck came by and tucked our mail into the box. I may or may not have mentioned that our property is surrounded by a moat during the rainy days. There is no going to collect the mail without rain boots. Seeing how Peter was supposed to be doing his math lesson, of course he eagerly volunteered to go get the mail. He hopped up from the table and went to put on his boots. The scream that came from him made me leave my seat! I thought he had hurt himself. He claimed there was a roach in his boot. I pick