Rabbit Hole
I can’t believe I’m knitting plain old simple stockinette in the round. It’s been For. Ever. since I found myself doing TV Knitting. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.
Yes, I know this is a totally bizarre way to construct a dress. You’ve known all along, Gentle Readers, that my process is somewhat, um, unconventional.
““...You have your idea you want to do, but then you got to figure out what does this thing want to be? You got to let it lead you a little.””
I always envision the result first, often at the most unlikely or inconvenient time. Then I’m compelled to find a way to get it. Then I figure out a way to show you how to get it. In at least four sizes. Always, I hope, keeping in mind that just because I conjured up a thing doesn’t mean you would enjoy it.
Once upon a time, I dreamt of the little rabbits in “The Unicorn and the Lady” Tapestries:
I startled from the dream with the design fully formed in my head, and raced to draw it as a chart before the magic of that place between sleep and awake evaporated.
Wild Hare Mittens, ca. 2012.
At first he was a mitten. I wanted to work him out on a small canvas, and mittens are perfect for that. Once they were done, I thought the itch had been scratched.
But the Wild Hare, as he told me he was called, had other plans. He stayed with me, hopping around in my brain, always wanting to be something else. Something More. I told him to be patient, to wait for the right time, the right yarn, the right garment.
But instead, he did what hares will do: He multiplied. He insisted that he and his friends needed room enough to hop around. Perhaps in circles, so that they would never have to stop, and never worry they might fall off an edge. And he wanted a bigger, grander border to keep them company; something that would remind him of the Lady, and the Unicorn, and the tapestry where he was born. I resisted his his pleading. I told him there were books to write, children to feed, and other stories to be told.
The Wild Hare would have none of it. “A Dress,” he said. “You must make us a dress to live upon.” “I’ve never knitted a dress,” I argued. I wasn’t sure knitters would like to make such a big project. The Wild Hare didn’t care. He pestered and multiplied and haunted my dreams.
Seven years passed. The books got written, the children got bigger, and many, many other stories were told.
And then finally, one day, a box full of magic arrived, unsuspected, unsolicited, and completely delightful.
The softness. The drape. The halo. At long last, I gave in to the Hare’s entreaties. I had run out of excuses. It was time to go back down the rabbit hole.
Care to join me? Watch this space…