Tiny bubbles

As a school teacher, sometimes I am lucky enough to receive gifts at Christmas from students.  One of these Christmases 2 years ago a few students gave me colourful, scented, and beautifully decorated soaps, obviously handmade because each was unique.  After some detective work, I found out that one of the Moms in my class taught soap-making classes.  So I quickly enrolled in her next class, a few months later.

There is no real expectation that I will ever be able to make soap on my own, so I'm not sure the term "class" applies here.  D. guides 4 of us through the whole process.  She has a variety of colours, scents and add-ins for our soaps.  She also pre-measures all the necessary ingredients for the soap base such as:  olive oil, vegetable lard, and lye.  Not being so good with details, I'm glad D. does all the measuring so that I can concentrate on the all-important mixing and choosing the colour/scents combos.  The whole process is quite technical, and there are many places where a distracted person such as myself could go make mistakes.  I learned that all soaps contain lye (which is caustic), and that caustic = dangerous (actually, I knew this already) so I really would not want to make a mistake because someone could lose an eye.

4 of us have made soap at D.'s house twice a year since 2009.  Every session brings new scents, colours and textures.  So far I have made lemon, peppermint, blackberry, tomato-fresh, espresso, cacao, and rosemary scented soaps.

Above is a pic of my very first soap, tucked in its butcher paper while it hardens.  Lemon?

This one remains my favourite:  peppermint with black rice.  I love how the rice sunk to the bottom of the soap and looks like Cookies & Cream chunks.  Too bad I stuck my fingers on the top to check for hardness prior to cutting.  A lesson learned ... perhaps it is a class after-all.

The Joys of Summer (part 2)

Walk + Nature = Bliss!


Just got back from a summer trip around the Cascade Mountains in what my American neighbours call the Pacific Northwest.  I think of it as the Pacific Southwest, but since it's in their country I will let them have their way.

Living in Victoria, on clear days we are often treated to this view of Mt. Baker:

So for a summer trip J. & I decided on a nature pilgrimage to Mt. Baker and see the area from up close.

Our trip started with a ferry ride to Seattle aboard the Anacortes ferry to watch a few Mariners baseball games.  We then quickly proceeded to the mountains, heading East to Leavenworth, Lake Chelan, Stehekin, Mazama, Concrete, and finally Mt. Baker.

Just outside of Mazama we found a trail called the Maple Pass Loop.  It was the most amazing hike of my life, taking J. & I up to the top of a mountain bowl, walking through alpine meadows filled with flowers, sometimes walking through snow and gazing down at glacier lakes.

 




We had planned on hiking a number of trails on Mt. Baker, but because of the 90+ feet of snow which fell this year, many trails were covered with rapidly melting snow, which could be dangerous.  We wandered around a bit and saw these views:

 

We have sworn to return soon to explore some more!

July = Yellow

I bought a skein of yellow Tanis Fiber Arts wool  last summer when visiting relatives in Montreal.  It was July, the Tour de France was on, the weather was beautiful, so I easily succumbed to the appeal of yellow wool.  Sadly, upon return to Victoria the newly rolled-up wool spent an uneventful year stashed awaiting the perfect project.

Last July I found Star Athena’s «Tour de France » sock pattern and first made a pair for socks for myself, then altered the pattern to make a pair of fingerless gloves for Mom last Christmas.   I love this pattern because of the cables and moss stitch representing mountains and cobbles.  Very fun to make!

So July 2011 rolled around and it was finally time to put the beautiful yellow wool to good use.  I don't know why it took me so long to put this pattern & wool together.  I should have seen  before that Tour de France = Yellow, so therefore sock pattern = yellow skein.  July was the perfect month to start this project because that's when the Tour is on.

I have finished the right glove and took a few pics this week while visiting the beach in Deep Bay.  Still working on the left glove but it should be finished soon.  

The Joys of Summer (part 1)

There are many obvious Joys of Summer such as:  vacations, heat, and sunlight.  I have a few of my own Joys, a variety of events I look forward to every year.

Joy #1 -  The Clothesline

When I was a kid in Montreal, my Mom used to hang clothes outside in the summer.  I think she probably did it to save money.  I didn’t particularly like the end result, especially not the sandpaper-like towels. 

Something happened since then, and now I can’t wait until it’s warm & sunny enough to dry clothes outside.  I could do it all year long, as one of my neighbors does, but that would likely mean bringing wet laundry back inside most days. 

My clothesline ritual usually begins sometime in June.  There’s something serene about hanging laundry outside and letting the sun dry it out.  Maybe it’s the slow mechanical act of hanging and folding clothes.  Maybe it’s because everything smells good once it’s dry.  Or it could be that letting the elements drying my laundry oddly fills me with glee.  I’ve even mysteriously grown to enjoy the rough towels.

My Mom still dries clothes out on a line, but places them in the dryer for 10 minutes when she brings them in “to kill all the bugs”.  I don’t have her bug problems unless the clothes spend the night outside.  Then I can expect small spiders or ants creeping out of the laundry basket.  I sometimes forget about this as in last week, when I went to my yoga class accompanied by a giant black ant who had hitched a ride on my towel.  Not cool.

Noteworthy:  My friend M.’s parents are in their 80s and have never owned a dryer.  They have a giant clothesline which runs through their basement.  They use it year-long.  Epic.

There was a time when neighborhoods would outlaw clotheslines because they were unsightly.  How 1^st World!  Not sure whether this is still the case.  I just know that when the air gets warm and sweet smelling, I can’t wait to start using the line again.

When I was a kid in Montreal, my Mom used to hang clothes outside in the summer.  I think she probably did it to save money.  I didn’t particularly like the end result, especially not the sandpaper-like towels. 

Something happened since then, and now I can’t wait until it’s warm & sunny enough to dry clothes outside.  I could do it all year long, as one of my neighbors does, but that would likely mean bringing wet laundry back inside most days. 

My clothesline ritual usually begins sometime in June.  There’s something serene about hanging laundry outside and letting the sun dry it out.  Maybe it’s the slow mechanical act of hanging and folding clothes.  Maybe it’s because everything smells good once it’s dry.  Or it could be that letting the elements drying my laundry oddly fills me with glee.  I’ve even mysteriously grown to enjoy the rough towels.

My Mom still dries clothes out on a line, but places them in the dryer for 10 minutes when she brings them in “to kill all the bugs”.  I don’t have her bug problems unless the clothes spend the night outside.  Then I can expect small spiders or ants creeping out of the laundry basket.  I sometimes forget about this as in last week, when I went to my yoga class accompanied by a giant black ant who had hitched a ride on my towel.  Not cool.

Noteworthy:  My friend M.’s parents are in their 80s and have never owned a dryer.  They have a giant clothesline which runs through their basement.  They use it year-long.  Epic.

There was a time when neighborhoods would outlaw clotheslines because they were unsightly.  How 1^st World!  Not sure whether this is still the case.  I just know that when the air gets warm and sweet smelling, I can’t wait to start using the line again.

New Gloves

Wool gloves are a real treat!  They keep my fingers warm when I'm biking, or just make them feel better when they feel old and arthritic.

I knit my first pair of fingerless gloves around 10 years ago as a challenge.  It was the next step up, a natural progression from knitting socks.  The fingers, after all, are just a smaller version of knitting a sock leg, and there is no pesky heel to turn.

I have made many pairs of gloves, either with full fingers, cut-offs, or fingerless mittens.  I have given them all away or (sadly) lost them.  So with time on my hands, last weekend was the perfect time for a new project.

I bought a skein of wool from the internet in the fall to make a hat for my Mom.  However, when I received it, it didn't really scream "hat" to me so I stashed it away.  I decided to use it now because I thought the pattern might be interesting in gloves.  The stripe pattern would show thin stripes in the body and larger stripes in the fingers.  It's fun to knit with hand-dyed wool because of the variations in colours.  Subtle changes in colour reveal patterns, one stitch at a time.  It's like reading a mystery book, where clues are revealed one at a time.  This one is called a multi.

This project also marks the first time I have written out a pattern.  I have posted the instructions in Ravelry .  I have written it out in an effort to save myself time in the long run.  No more trying it out and re-measuring.

Since spring is taking its sweet time in returning this year, I'm sure I'll be able to wear these many times before putting them away for the summer.

Back to Nature #2

Thanks to my lovely J., I had a chance to get away again this weekend, this time to Point No Point on the West Coast of Vancouver Island.  Point No Point is a small resort with log (ish) cabins overlooking the Salish Sea.  They make no apologies for not having any tvs, cell coverage, or internet.  This lack of connectivity is part of the charm.  From our 300 square foot cabin we can see the Northern Tip of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, then it’s the vastness of the Pacific Ocean!  Aah the fresh ocean breeze!

J. & I were treated to the sound of crashing waves and the crackling of a wood fire for the whole weekend.  We hiked to the “Point” and met a woman who claimed these were the biggest waves she had seen here in 20 years.  On the hike we stopped at a small pebbled beach, watched the waves crash, and listened to the beach pebbles trickle back down to the water with each receding wave.

It’s interesting to compare the West Coast to the East Coast of Vancouver Island.  The West Coast is much more rugged with little development.  It's best to have a full gas tank and enough groceries for a trip out here.  I like feeling like I’m on the edge of the world.  It feels odd but liberating.

Another difference between the two coasts is that we have not seen as much wildlife here as in Deep Bay on the East Coast.  J. points out that it’s not as sheltered on the West Coast, so it’s harder for the animals to get food.  Perhaps it's too early in the year and the birds have not yet returned.  In Deep Bay we always see eagles, cormorants, geese, seals, and occasionally sea lions.  Last summer we even saw a pod of killer whales in the Bay.  Here on the west coast we saw a Blue Jay yesterday and that’s about it.   I know there are bears not far so I'm not complaining too much.

One of my yoga teachers says we shouldn’t have to get away to feel a sense of calmness.  She says we should be able to feel that calmness in our every day life.  Personally, I find the ocean’s sounds, fresh air, and vastness quite helpful in de-stressing.  I find it hard to reproduce that feeling without the sights, scents, & sounds. 

Back to Nature

Spring Break is a time to relax & refuel, a time to recharge for the last term.

After my first fight with breast cancer, I felt a real need to go somewhere fun with my family.  So we took our 10 & 7 year olds to Disneyland.  Not very original but it was indeed fun, and W-A-R-M!  The past 2 years we traveled to Whistler for a skiing trip.  Last year was a unique experience because we were in Whistler just before the start of the Paraolympic Games.  Excitement was in the air.

This year, with one boy now in University and unable to join us, we decided to go up-island to my parents' beachhouse.  It was so enjoyable (and relaxing) to be away from crowds!  We hiked by  Rosewall Creek,  found a pod of sea lions in Fanny Bay,

walked on the beach,

and I even got to practice my beloved Bikram Yoga.  I love my little island on the Pacific!

... and now, it's back to work!