Into the fall

Fall is my favourite time of year — the crispness in the air, the deeper, darker colors, the clothes. I'm not a great fan of what comes next, and November is never not depressing (much like March) — but the transition time, right now, the still-hot days and the cool nights, is perfect.

Fall knitting, too, is deeply satisfying. It's the timeliness of it. Mid-winter, all you want to do is knit fast as you can, before hypothermia sets in — and Christmas knitting is only gratifying after it's done, not during. I never knit sweaters in the spring; there's just no motivation. And summers are for socks or shawls or other small things, something to take the edge off and keep your hand in, but small enough that you aren't sitting with a pile of delicious alpaca in your lap — because, trust me, nothing woolly is delicious in 40-degree heat.

But now! I am already well on my way. Before August ended, I had cast on a small cardigan for the Spanish Inquisition — Olivia Petit by Connie Chang Chinchio. I love the back detail.


It's lovely in the original cream, but I had quite a bit of Manos del Uruguay Silk Blend left over from another sweater project, so in it went. It's 70% merino, 30% silk; super soft and warm but not, unfortunately, machine washable — I'm less picky about that in my own sweaters, frankly, and as I was anxious to get started and the yarn store had yet to get their fall yarns in, I decided to overlook that small deficiency — and it is super adorable. I knit the 12-month size; the Spanish Inquisition is on the small side. It's a little bit big on her, which means that it's perfect.

The super cute buttons are dyed mother-of-pearl from Fyberspates. I happened to be on their web site (investigating their yarns, of course), and they were, simply, perfect. One thing I have not been able to source to my satisfaction, in Toronto, are buttons. I'm sure that perfect buttons — perhaps even the perfect button store — exist, somewhere, in this city, but I have been unable to find them. I even deputized my mother — so far, nothing. I have lucked out, here and there, but these are the only buttons I've used so far that are both perfect for the project, and perfect by themselves.

It's been very cold in the mornings this past week, and particularly this weekend, so we've already put the sweater to use. I would say that she loves it, but honestly? She doesn't really have an opinion about clothes. Shoes, on the other hand, she definitely has an opinion on: they belong in her hands, or in her mouth, but not on her feet. Never, ever.

And now, something for me. This is a sweaters' worth of Fyberspates Scrumptious 4-ply in "Water."


This is a yarn I've been meaning to try for a while, but haven't been able to find in North America. (WEBS carries it now.) It's 55% merino, 45% silk — do you sense a pattern? It's because I love things that drape, and nothing drapes like silk (or bamboo — but that's another story).

It is going to be a Pas de Valse — actually, it's already most of one; I've only got most of one sleeve and the crochet edging to go. It's a surprisingly fast knit. (I know, this isn't the best in-progress picture ever. I just wanted to capture the beauty of the silk stockinette. This colour is perfect for a blue-grey obsessive like me — incidentally, the colour in the photo above is slightly more accurate. It's getting harder to take photographs in natural light, now.)


I originally knit this pattern when it was first published, out of some BMFA Wooboo (which is 40% bamboo). Unfortunately it hasn't held up very well — the yarn was a bit thicker than called for (it had originally been for another project), and I had had to do some re-calculations on the fly, and so it was always a bit on the larger side. Now it's a bit misshapen and droopy. I love it, though; it's a staple of my fall wardrobe, so this year I decided it was time to knit a new one. I'm very excited.

I haven't decided yet what I will knit after this is finished. Socks? A shawl? (A lace project in the winter is never remiss. I may knit shawls in the summer — but fall-winter is when I start them.) It's too early to think about Christmas, so this knitting time is all about me, me, me. It's not often that I can say that anymore, so I will revel in it while I can.

weekly bloom: into the fall

I'd meant to post at least once more in August, but last weekend (and then this week) has just been a mess of epic proportions — personally, professionally, emotionally — so, no. (Not to fret; everyone here is healthy and hale. And the storm has blown over, more or less.)

Since the last "weekly bloom" post (which was, eek, much longer than a week ago), nothing much has happened. The good: all of the plants I bought in the second round have survived, even thrived. The mystery orange coneflowers have even re-bloomed. The purple echinacea have not, but there is lots of new, vigorous growth — I didn't deadhead them, because I actually want to encourage seeding for next year, and it looks, at the very least, that the two plants are well established and will come back. Even the Oriental poppies have been throwing out new growth, and one of the hellebores, which looked like it had died in the July drought, has come back. So the garden is good.

But nothing is blooming, per se, except for the 'Amber Sun' roses (which went through yet another round of profusion a week ago. I am deeply in love with these roses). So you haven't missed much.

This is what the garden looks like now:
Unfortunately, a lot of that greenery are weeds. I'd meant to do some weeding on Tuesday, but the torrential rains put a stop to that. So the garden is a little bit scraggly, a little bit neglected — but nothing is dead, and it's easier to subtract than it is to add. In gardening, I will take my victories where I can get them.

This is going to be the last weekly bloom post, though. The garden is pretty much at the end — some of the echinacea are holding on, but there's a crispness in the air now, and it won't be much longer before the garden dies back. (The only fall-bloomer I had planted were the Japanese anemones, and they did not, unfortunately, survive the drought.) There will probably be some more sporadic gardening posts, but I think the beginning of September is a good time to put the weekly gardening post to bed for a while. And it's fall, and there are so many other things to write about; I've already started my fall knitting. For example. And isn't it the perfect time to start writing about cozy things?

Thank you for sharing my garden with me.

photoblog: the Spanish Inquisition is one!

I promised a wrap-up of the Spanish Inquisition's first party, didn't I? And that was almost a month ago. Bad me. My only excuse is that July was unbelievably busy — the Spanish Inquisition started daycare (I've mentioned that), which means that she a) hasn't been sleeping as well, and b) has already brought back daycare germ factory germs, which are better crafted, more resilient, and more deadly than regular hoi polloi germs. They've got some really good quality control, that germ factory — sadly so, for us.

But! Her party! We had it at our house, and it was for her little friends — the neighbourhood 2011 baby brigade (with an honourable membership for one who was born around Christmas, 2010) — so there was lots of opportunity for crafting and decoration. Because I am still me, and that is what I do.

The spread:

The cake:

The favours:



And finally, last but not least, the birthday girl:
The party kept her up a bit past her bedtime, so she was a little stunned.

weekly bloom: gladiolus

It is raining — finally. The garden badly needs it. I did get out, earlier this week, to put some of the new plants into the ground, and I have watered, faithfully, every day this week — but still, the ground is so dried and hard that the water just pools, and I wonder how much of it is actually penetrating to root-depth. And when I dig the holes to plant, it's just dried and sad, all the way down. I've been amending as I go, but without water, none of this is going to work.

Last year — spring, 2011 — I planted a bunch of gladiolus bulbs along the border of our fence. (The fence is actually mostly decorative; it's about two feet high and so far I have seen the irises and poppies propagate freely right under it. Luckily, we get along well with our neighbours.) I admit that I had no clue what I was doing. The plants did send up shoots, but no flowers — which was a pity, I thought, because supposedly gladiolus are not winter hardy in this zone. Something, somewhere, suggested that I dig up the bulbs at the end of the season, store them in my basement, and then replant them in the spring.

... Ha. Like that was going to happen. I didn't even do that to my calla lilies, and I loved my callas. (And sadly, no, they didn't come back ... although I suspect that might be because I'm fairly certain I dug at least one of them up while preparing the new herb garden. An accident.)

At any rate, despite my not-so-benign neglect, and thanks I suppose to the unseasonably warm winter we had, the bulbs flowered this year.
I alternated the coral colour with the salmon colour. (I don't remember the "official" names of the flowers; it was too long ago.) The salmon bloomed first; three or four stalks last week, and the corals bloomed yesterday or the day before.


Unfortunately, they're not doing so well; twice this week I've come home to stalks that have fallen. Whether it's because of their weight or because they're being knocked over by something — our neighbours' walkway is right next to them, on the other side of the fence — is hard to say. I don't have great hopes that all of the remaining stalks will survive the thunderstorms tonight.


I'm not sure if I like them, particularly. I planted them because I love gladiolus as cut flowers; they're so dramatic and give such wonderful height to an arrangement. But what's lovely in a vase is overblown in the garden; the large blooms look out of place next to the miniature 'Fairy' roses and too fusty compared to the carefree echinacea; the colours are too garish. I love vermillion, but this is the wrong shade; it clashes horribly with the 'Amber Sun' roses. And even the height is wrong; the stalks are about six feet tall, and look ridiculous next to the little two-foot fence — particularly as nothing else in the garden (except the tree and) is even half that height.

So they may go next year. I am going to leave them in for the time being. It feels wrong to pull something that I've successfully planted, even if it's patently in the wrong place — like I'm thumbing my nose at my good luck. It just feels risky.

the new garden plan: round two

I had meant to skip last week's "weekly bloom" post, but I had also meant to replace it with something else. And then Life got in the way, as it does — the Spanish Inquisition has started daycare! She spends most of her day not napping, plotting dire recriminations against her cruel parents; I know it — and that got pushed back. As things do.

In any case, I had decided not to bother with a post because this extreme heat and drought have essentially dessicated the garden. No — wait; no "essentially" about it; it simply has. The roses are loving it (but even they are getting somewhat bleached) —


The lovely vermillion-pink colour is visible only close to dusk, when the flowers are closing up; during the day, they open a pale yellow, almost white. I have been deadheading — more or less — and they have kept in bloom; lovely.

The other things though — not so much. The hostas seem to be doing fine, in the deepest shade of the garden (which, even then, is only dappled shade; our tree is little, and doing the best it can). One of the two hellebores seem to be making a stand of it. But everything else — I believe the technically term is 'pfffffft.' — except for the weeds, which are endemic.

So! New plan. Yesterday we had a quiet day — astoundingly — and I went to our neighbourhood garden centre. East of Eliza is literally five minutes away from our house (which can be construed both as a very, very good thing, and a very dangerous one), so I took our little red wagon behind me, spent too long in the secret garden deciding on measures, and then returned, little red wagon laden with goodies, in the space of under an hour.

What is there? The splashiest, the bright purple-pink echinacea, are E. purpura 'PowWow Wild Berry." It's a ridiculous name, I know, but the flowers themselves are adorable. It's a relatively recent cultivar, but I've been seeing them everywhere lately, and I just couldn't resist. There's another coneflower in the wagon, too, a smaller burnt orange one at the back; it had lost its tag, unfortunately, so I don't know the cultivar.

The white ones are shasta daisies. I have a weakness for the daisy form; can you tell? Shasta daisies were not in my original garden plan; I forget why. I think I didn't want to overdose on daisies, and there's something so simple about them. They're almost too sweet, I think. But right now, my actual garden is dead and I need plants, and a daisy is a daisy, so in they go.

The small, low-leafed things are Oriental poppies, white ones. They're past their bloom time, but still throwing out new growth, so I am hoping that I will be able to establish them for next year. I love poppies, particularly Oriental ones — one of the earlier victims of the drought was a purple Oriental — and they were on sale, so I'm willing to take the risk.

And finally, there's a peony in there somewhere. A dark pink one, if the picture is any indication; the tag says, simply "garden peony." They also had some 'Duchesse de Nemours,' which is a very old white from the 1850s, with a beautiful form — it was one of the ones I was considering, in my original garden plan. But it's crazily hot right now, and the sun is searing, and in this light I can't abide a shrub full of big, bright white flowers; it's too glaring. I rejected the 'David' phlox (which I had also considered, back in April) for similar reasons.

I will be moving these into the ground throughout the week. (What with work, and bedtime, and dinner, it's not going to be possible to do everything at once — and we're out of town this weekend.) Wish me luck.