i can’t believe my eyes

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 I just found this little girl in her piyamas one morning, donning my hat (which I had forgotten on the couch) and happily playing with her princessess. Life is good isn’t it? 


a special present #3

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You were never much of a talker and you let your gestures show how much you cared: your delicious cakes, the sweaters you would knit for me, the tiny thoughtful presents you would leave on my table. It took me years to understand and appreciate your silent devotion, your daily commitment to make us happy.

For your birthday, in this special moment where your health plays tricks on you, I wanted to offer you something special. In order to speak your language I had to find the right gesture which would quietly go to your heart: I would exchange roles and become the one who would spend hours knitting for you, sticht after stitch, as you used to do.

This special present was a race against time and came to an end at 2 am of December 18, just in time to weave ends inand wet block it before closing my suitcase on the 21st.

As you unpacked your gift you paused an instant, sort of incredulous. As if  – knowing so well how much time it takes to complete such a project – you couldn’t conceive that someone had done this for you.

You murmured it’s beautiful and caressed the yarn with your hands.

Those very hands that have so often held needles and yarn for somebody elses’s delight.

Then you lifted your eyes into mine with the most radious smile and simply murmured thank you…

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The sweater pictured above is size S of Seneca by Brooklyn Tweed knitted with 5 skeins of Cascade 220 on 4,5 needles.

C’est drôle – It’s funny

J’ai retrouvé, lors de mon passage à Rome, les doudous de quand j’étais à l’école primaire. Je me rappelais qu’à l’époque ma maman m’avait appris quelques bases de tricot et je croyais leur avoir réalisé un petit pull ou deux, dont j’étais très fière par ailleurs. Quelle n’a été ma surprise quand j’ai découvert qu’il s’agissait carrément d’une demie douzaine de minuscules habits, que j’avais totalement oubliés. Je ne vous dis pas mon émotion devant certains détails, et les efforts au niveau du choix des couleurs et des motifs que mes petites mains d’enfant de 7 ans avaient réalisés pour habiller ces copains de jeux. Quelle sacré voyage dans le temps!

A ce moment-là une pensée m’a aussi traversé l’esprit, comme une évidence: on croit s’inventer de but en blanc, s’en aller décrocher la lune tellement on est original. Puis, on découvre qu’on doit tellement à ses racines, comme une graine qui, tout simplement, se met à pousser quand toutes les conditions sont réunies. C’est drôle, non?

Que votre soirée soit douce, chers amis.

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When I was in Rome last week I found back some of my first grade’s favorite stuffed animals. I remember that my mother had taught me some knitting basics and I thought I had made one or two little jumpers for them. You can guess my surprise when I discovered half a dozen completely forgotten tiny garments. Seeing those details, the colors choices and the pattern efforts really moved me. How much time and love 7-year-old me devoted to these play pals. What a time travel! 

There it also struck me that one thinks being totally free to invent one’s life. To be ever so original. Then you discover that you are (so much) your roots too. Like a seed who simply begins to sprout when all conditions are met. And that’s pretty funny, right?

I wish you all a lovely evening, friends.