Yes, that’s on ice and snow, on back roads, dodging deer, in January,  partly in the dark.

Ninety-three years ago, this young woman modeled fashionable knitted tennis wear on the cover of The Corticelli Yarn Book, “Lessons in Knitting and Crochet.”  The book contained an extensive assortment of fashions for men, women, children, soldiers and babies.  It was published by the Corticelli Silk Mills of Florence, Massachusetts.  Odd little crochet do-dads dangling in front, but other than that, somewhat modern styling.  Nice subtle color combination too.  Seems to hold up rather nicely, especially figuring this model was likely born in the 19th century.

“Holding up rather nicely” isn’t what comes first to mind for the “Silk Dresden Sweater” featured on the book’s inner cover page, though.  I don’t think knitters with a vintage knitting bent are going to be lining up to knit this one, “posed” here by “Mrs. Vernon Castle:”

This angler was intent on augering holes for his tip-ups, undeterred even though the front end of his truck was sinking through the ice. First things first, I guess.  The ice was mostly about 20 inches thick, but he’d driven over an especially weedy section that hadn’t frozen solidly.

It also helps, paraphrasing Elizabeth Zimmermann, that people will put almost anything on their head.  And since heads come in all sizes, a knitter with a bunch of humans in her vicinity can forget about stitch gauge.

This hat is “Amanda,” a free pattern by Gina House of Londonderry, New Hampshire.  (Ravelry’s Sleepy Eyes).  Ravelers have already knitted it 1570 times.  Mine is knitted of Malabrigo merino worsted, in the Snowbird colorway.

Next,  is Kate Atherly’s Spider Hat. It’s a cute creepy knit.

Below,  from left to right, is a seeded stitch hat using Debbie New’s cellular automaton technique where you apply a bit of math to create a pattern.  Maybe Debbie’s degree in microbiology and raising eight children is the necessity that influenced her inventiveness.  Next is Wendy Keele’s Tassled Pull On Cap, minus the tassles.  And Mary Dominski’s Celtic Braid Hat in yarn from Blackberry Ridge Woolen Mill.

Today, Ship Support is “supporting America’s troops deployed in the War on Terror–one stitch at a time.”  The items need to be “closely knit or crocheted for warmth,” knit in colors suitable for men.  ”Women in the military prefer these as well.”  Land’s End has teamed up with the Sailors’ Society to have us knit  wooly hats for chilly sailors. Knit for the Navy is looking for afghans.  Knitters are busy knitting glommits (a combination glove/mitten) and gauntlets (shooters gloves) for soldiers in Afghanistan.  The need continues and those who chose to knit for soldier and sailor relief organizations knit because they care.

Does this young one look too ready for the wars to come?  He modeled for Corticelli in 1917.

And so I was gifted with Cecelia’s boxes of mohair.  Mass quantities of 100% Italian kid mohair.  The softest mohair on the planet, spun from young goats.  My co-worker gave me so much mohair, all neatly packed in fifteen or so clean original cartons, that I went to Home Depot and purchased a special plastic caddy of drawers to store the balls in.  There was pink, orange, dark green, light green, varigated green, black, hot pink, gold, aqua.  Bon-bon complete with the original ballbands.  Lady Myra, all tagged, as if they’d just been plucked from my local yarn shop.  I would open the drawers and marvel at the permanence of things.  Serious knitters  plan for what will happen to their stash when they die.  Should it go to a Senior Center?  A knitting relative?  Their knitting guild?  I immediately  felt a responsibility to do right by all that mohair.  Then, in one of the crochet booklets that I received and looked at last because I don’t crochet, I found a carbon copy of this typed note.

Cecelia knew she was up to her eyeballs in mohair.  She knew her stash enhancement had gotten out of hand. I figure she  stashed mass quantities of mohair in the 1960’s when “Italian Knits” were all the rage.  They were oversized, bulky, warm, itchy sweaters.  But we all looked beautiful in them.  Everyone wanted one.  Mine was powder blue.  By 1977 no one wanted mohair sweaters anymore.  You had to wear long sleeve shirts under them and the little mohairs still managed to tickle your daylights out.  By 1977, Cecelia might even have admitted to herself that knitting with mohair is not as much fun as knitting with yarn that behaves itself. With mohair, you knit in a cloud of fuzz.  If you make a mistake, it’s almost impossible to rip back because all that clingy fuzz impedes progress and obscures the individual stitches.  I bet Cecelia knew the mohair trick of putting your knitting in the freezer for a few hours because it’s easier to frog (”rippit, rippit”) when the yarn is very, very cold.

Somehow, knowing that Cecelia had already decided to sell her mohair to a stranger lessened my obligation to it.  I made lots of scarfs, including for our office’s charity auction.  I knitted clothes for bears donated to shelters.   I added it to felted bags. I made koala ear tufts out of it.  I knitted a black shawl that made me look so goofy I had to give it away to the first person who said she  liked it.  And yes, I gave some of the mohair to other knitters.

I have about 15 balls left in assorted colors.  Mittens are the current mohair stash-busting project.  These are knitted with two strands of Bon-Bon.

I plan on leaving a few balls unknit.  When I kick my bucket, Cecelia’s yarn can find a new good home, mixed in with my stash.

Sealed-in-plastic puzzles never have pieces missing, do they?  Once, when I was a child, we got a thousand-piecer with one duplicate piece and one missing piece.  But that was 45 years ago.  There’s quality control now, right?  I looked everywhere.  The piece, it is missing.  Missing. As in not in the box.  How’s that for green apples?  Kim Norlien (”the painter of peace and tranquility” TM) probably cares.  Before he sold rights to his loon painting to the puzzle guys he must have made them promise that when they chopped it up into itsy bitsy pieces and packed it in a plastic bag before stuffing it in a a box and then wrapping the box with cellophane, that they’d not leave any peace out.