Did you ever see an amaryllis bloom like this? Each of the three bulbs has put up about ten flowers, including the ones that aren’t open yet. The window seat gets the best light in the house, so I put the plant right here on the cushions and it just went to town. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for this riot of red! Some red tulips came, too. They’re only little nubbin shoots just now, but they’ve come to sit on a plate on the cushion beside the amaryllis, so they’ll have something to aspire to. (I wonder if the heat vent directly below is playing a role, too? The dear bulbs think they’re in the tropics, perhaps?) It’s all very appropriately timed for Valentine’s Day, anyhow.

Jen and I ditched our gentlemen for the 14th and spent the day pursuing knitterly delights together at Madrona. Jen took Cat Bordhi’s sock class while I dug into the finer points of color for fair isle with Janine Bajus. Next time I’ll have more about the process–I’ll even reveal my little speed swatch, which Janine told us should be very ugly indeed. Mine is not hideous; I flatter myself it looks a little like a Kiki Mariko rug shrunk to the scale of a bathmat or a small lap blanket for Toad Hall, and doesn’t that rug look like just the sort of thing Mr. Toad would like? It would set off his Harris Tweed suits so beautifully. But the swatch doesn’t yet look like anything you’d want to make into a sweater, or even a hat, and it’s not supposed to. Next comes editing. More on that later, though.

I thought it was time to prove the Confectionary Vest had progressed beyond its own initial swatch, which was the reason for taking the picture with the amaryllises in the first place. The profusion of ends has been dealt with, and it’s acquired armhole ribbing on the right side. I need to wind up another ball of the grey STR, but I’m very close! And it fits, apart from a slightly wonky patch at each hip that reveals how I need to do a little more calculating and a little less guessing in the department of waist shaping. (Note to self: begin decreases sooner, as in directly after the hem ribbing.)

A good way to start a weekend is to have friends over for Saturday breakfast. If said friends are in possession of a squeezable seven-month-old, so much the better. And if possible, he should come wearing a sweater you knit in celebration of his birth.

Clearly, River has worn his little Spiral Yoke a lot, even though it’s just now fitting him perfectly. The Dream in Color Classy has pilled all over the place. There are extra pills on the arms, probably from the kind of calisthenics he’s demonstrating here. Structurally the sweater is in fine shape, but he’ll probably grow out of it before the weather turns warm, anyway. So it’s not too soon to start planning something new for him to wear next fall. Maybe a Tomten? I’ve yet to knit one…

As a knitter, I take it as the highest compliment when a garment gets worn to death. My mother only likes to wear her handknit socks around the house in her slippers for fear they’ll wear out and she’ll have spoiled something I made. I say if you love it to bits, you’ve proved yourself a worthy recipient and I’ll make you something new. Remember how the Velveteen Rabbit could only become real after he’d been worn all shabby? The best handknits get to live on in family memory after they’re full of holes, too. River’s next sweater will be in sturdier wool–presumably it won’t be weathering as much spit-up and won’t need such frequent washing–so it can last for his hypothetical brother or sister, and maybe later get folded up in a box in the linen closet, too precious to send to the thrift house, the way my best sweaters from childhood did. There’s a gray sweater with a lupine-blue horse my aunt knit for me that I wore until the sleeves were six inches too short. I hope my own kids will wear it some day. I’ll be a happy knitter indeed if, ten years from now, River’s family remembers that little brown sweater with the interesting blue design on the yoke.

You know a new sweater is a success when you can’t even wait to put the buttons on before you start wearing it. Happily, Amanda is a versatile girl who looks as well elegantly fastened with a pin.

You also know you’ve got a hit when the presumably non-knitting guy about to brew you a delicious latte tells you it’s a great sweater before he even takes your order. Compliments in Amanda’s first five minutes in public? Yes, please. And my husband was standing right beside me, so I think it’s safe to assume it really was the woolen garment he was admiring. Amanda is the flatteringest heavy wool sweater in my collection, though. Thanks to some waist shaping I added to the pattern and the fact that I knit under gauge to aim for a sleeker fit, she’s a svelte little piece.

I love, love, love the Bellwether Wool Co. Wensleydale, which is, on the practical front, toasty and not maddeningly itchy at the neck (I’m not very susceptible to wool-itch anyway) and ought to last a lifetime and, on the aesthetic front, lustrous and gorgeous and perfect for this waffly stitch pattern. I think Lois is out of this natural dark color until the summer, but if you let her know you’re interested I’m sure she’ll contact you when there’s a new batch ready. I’m delighted that I have leftovers enough to do a yoke pattern with them… perhaps Elizabeth Zimmermann’s Aspen Leaf pullover.

Meanwhile, I’m going to be wearing Amanda in heavy rotation while the cool weather lasts. She’s my new favorite sweater. Exterior edition to come when the buttons arrive and I figure out how to make the cufflink fasteners. I’ll be undoing the bind-off row on the solid buttonband, dropping down three stitches and working a buttonhole in seven places to match the other band, and then hooking the stitches back up and redoing the bind-off. Stay tuned…

(Let us first note that this is probably the only time you’ll see me dangle an apostrophe off the end of a non-plural noun. I believe that singular nouns ending in ‘s,’ though minorities, are just as deserving of the possessive ‘s construction as their kin. This phrase is clearly meant to be possessive–for the sake of goodness–and yet I just can’t bring myself to be fussy enough to write “for goodness’s sake.” /personal nerdfest)

Who on earth does a girl have to knit for to find a copy of the Jan/Feb Piecework Magazine? I’ve been all over Portland looking for it. The yarn shops sold out before I realized it was Annual Knitting Issue time. Powell’s let me down on two fronts (a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence), since they’d also sold all their copies of Rabbit, Run, the title I need for my next book club meeting. My favorite giant fabric/yarn/craft accoutrement store, Mill End, doesn’t carry it. Border’s offered me scores of craft magazines including New Zealand Quilter, but not Piecework. I mean, not to disparage what I’m sure is a worthy publication from our southern cousins, but New Zealand Quilter? When all I want is a peep at some Nancy Bush gloves and an Alice Starmore fair isle cap?

Update: Twisted got more copies in! Thanks to Kate for the tip-off in the comments! I now have the magazine in my possession. I also have a peculiar urge to cast on a pair of conjoined socks…