Over here at the Philadelphia outpost of Crossroad Knits, we have been doing lots of nest-feathering. Since moving into our house late last summer, we have been trying make the blah suburban colonial we call home a little more funky and colorful.
This past year has seen a lot of changes for us, and its been really difficult. With the move, we went from South to North. From city to suburb. From a job Mr. S hated with a small company with no future but lots more time to a job Mr S loves with a Fortune 50 employer with huge potential, but lots more responsibility. From a life surrounded by beloved friends but no family, to having lots of family responsibilities and having to make all new friends. From an smallish old charming house with lots of flaky problems in a great neighborhood to a larger, newish, bland house with lots of wallpaper in an anonymous suburban subdivision.
It has been a struggle to keep certain parts of me around. It has been hard to tell what is just growth and development, what is change, and what is part of "me." And re-doing this house has been part of this process. In the old house, we had lots of antiques and charming little things, collections and funky details. But in this house, we have been going with a more modern, contemporary vibe. The rooms are larger, and a lot of our old furniture just didn't fit. It was also time to shed some of the old post-college furniture and replace it with some more grown up items, more influenced by modern design than shabby chic.
I know you all think suddenly you've vertured into a shelter blog. But this is a knitting blog, so here is the yarn room.
Recently painted a lovely shade of purple, the yarn room (I suppose in some homes, this room is called the "guest room") has been refreshed and organized. Curtains hung, old-and-tired furniture rotated out, other old-but-charming furniture rotated in, some favorite things displayed, the yarn is finally getting out of the closet and given the place of honor it deserves.
First, an old glass-front cupboard serves as display for some favorite yarns, the knitting library, and my collection of apothecary bottles. The closed space below houses knitting magazines and patterns, my sewing box, the swift and ball winder, and yarns by the bag. This cupboard used to live in our dining room.
Next, in an empire-style dresser is the bulk of the stash.
Other highlights include the handknitted stash pillow, and my beloved saucy calendar girls from the 1940s. My grandfather was a lithographer, and the company he worked for mostly produced calendars, I picked these up because they reminded me of him. And the months are the three months leading up to my father's birth: May 1, 1940. Sentimental, funny, and incredibly politically incorrect.
I really love the style we are bringing to our new house, more modern and clean, and decidedly different from the boring beige homes we see, but the thing I love most about the yarn room is that it most reflects our old style, with some of our favorite Richmond antiques and collections. I really miss that old house, our last home, and when I step into the yarn room, it feels a little like we are back in Richmond again. It feels like my old self again. With yarn.
This room has been my oasis during what has been a turbulent few weeks. Rosebud and Pepe have been needy and emotional, with them beginning school, and to be frank, so have I. I can feel those idyllic days of summer drifting away from me. Worse, I know this is the natural end to my baby years, and the beginning of the rat-race years of pick ups and drop offs, activities, practices, volunteer committments, and not getting nearly enough sleep. Or knitting time.
And we've been trying to do all of this with the center of our home, our kitchen, out of commission. Without the restorative rhythm of family dinners and a contractor with personal problems hanging around, with make-do meals and the constant intrusion, it has been rough on all of us.
So if you're looking for me, I'll be in the yarn room.