A Note from Kit - Autumn 2018
“The work will teach you how to do it.”
Here in the Northwest, we never know how autumn will arrive. Will it make a grand entrance with a flirty snap of its fingers? Or will it sidle up to us so imperceptibly that we don’t even notice that we’ve changed our linens for woolens?
This time of year never fails to slip me right into learning mode—which I must confess is never far away. Of all the things I treasure about my job, it’s the constant learning I relish the most. I love that our crafts are infinitely nuanced—I’ll never be bored. I love (most days!) that the retail business is such an inexorably evolving puzzle. And I love that everyone on this journey with me is keen to learn, too (often in public!).
When I came across this cover quote in David Allen’s Ready for Anything, I was struck by the generosity of the sentiment—that if we just keep working at it, all we need to know is in the experience itself. It reminds me of that moment when a knitter ‘sees’ for the first time a stitch that was there all along.
I’ve had a lovely invitation this fall. Our friends at Rowan have invited me to England—my first time ever! And if I can get John onto a long flight, we’ll have this adventure together. We’ll visit the Rowan design studios and (be still my heart) be on hand to launch Churchmouse Classics patterns using Rowan yarns into their boutique in Liberty London (including four of the six newest!). Our team is so very, very proud.
Then, with a few days on our own, maybe we’ll go to Betty’s Tearoom in Harrogate (the wellspring of Yorkshire Gold). Maybe I’ll get to meet Emma Bridgewater (girl crush!). Maybe we’ll get to see Brown Betty teapots entering the kiln at Cauldon. Maybe we’ll see our Wool Fat Soap cakes being hand-wrapped in Bradford. Maybe I’ll splash out on a Liberty print silk scarf. A girl can dream, can’t she?
I recently ran across an old Canadian wartime knitting booklet of my mum’s. It was printed on rationed paper and had smart patterns for men and women in uniform—waistcoats, dickies, balaclavas, helmet liners. . . But what struck me most was that there was only one sort of yarn on offer: a 4-ply wool in navy, olive, grey, and khaki (I always thought my grandpa was talking about his ‘car keys’!). And I marveled at how very blessed we are with the infinite variety of yarns at our fingertips. It reminds me not to take anything for granted.