Bears 183 to 187

Bella Hanging from the Chandelier

“Do you ever knit anything else besides bears?”

It is a question I am asked periodically by family and friends.

“Yes, I do, baby blankets, doll clothes, socks, scarves. But mainly Bears.”

I have knitted everything from potholders to lacy tablecloths. I’ve knitted afghans – crocheted some - until everybody around me disappeared under a layer of wavy earth colors or stark modern shapes or homey granny squares. I’ve knitted Christmas presents, crocheted Easter bunnies, dressed children and grandchildren. I’ve made purses, teapot cozies, hats, gloves, slippers, and – many, many years ago – toilet paper covers. Now I knit Bears. Mainly Bears.

“Don’t you ever get tired of knitting bears?”

“NO.”

I don’t get tired of knitting Bears because I look at every Bear as the most important project for the moment. As you can see, I write Bear with a capital B. I make up stories, attach good wishes, infuse each one with the very special gift of being the best companion a child could have. I educate my Bears. I read to them.

Take “Chagall’s Girls,” for instance. While I was working on them I bought four new books about Chagall. I gave the Bears names from Chagall’s life. Chloe, Bella, Ida, Virginia, Valentina. These Bears are playful. Chloe visits my postcard collection of Chagall’s windows. Bella dreams in vivid colors. In her early phase she hung from my kitchen light fixture so I could see her better. Ida dances on a purple brick. Virginia meets a nutcracker turned painter. And Valentina poses in front of a sunflower. We have fun together, the Bears and I. How could I get tired of knitting Bears when so many more children are in need of their companionship?

Melonberries and Marc Chagall's Stained Glass Windows

Ideas fly past me like fluffy, winged color patches in the path of a summer wind.

“Hurry! Hurry!” they say. “Catch me before I’m blown back into your subconscious.”

The wind seems to change those little clouds, stretching them, balling them up, tearing them into frilly remnants. When the temperature rises they flicker in hot pinks and reds, when it falls they undulate in deep-sea blues. Sometimes they seem saturated with the sun-laced greens of ancient forests.

“They usually form into organic shapes,” I would say if questioned. “Sometimes, though, they look like man-made constructions.” Then I wonder how best to describe the considerations that go into the project of knitting the same teddy bear pattern close to 200 times. I think I might have tried to explain this before, but sitting here this morning, looking at an unfinished group of Melonberry-colored Bears on my table, and holding a differently hued, finished Bear in my hand, I feel as if there is a pause in the storm and I can collect my impressions. If I am quick about it.

A few days ago I started a group of seven Bears. The idea behind this group was two-fold. First, I would use seven shades of brown for the heads. A tribute to Mr. Mandela’s Rainbow Nation. Secondly, they all would have identical Red Heart Melonberry bodies and legs in seed stitch. Then I would pick one shade of the Melonberry yarn for each bear and knit arms and skirt and scarf in lavenders, melons, pale yellows, muted rose. Finally I would knit a pocket for each skirt. I haven’t yet decided what color the pockets will be. (This reminds me of the group of Bears I called “Mangosalad.” Same organic idea and similar shades of yarn.)

After knitting four and a half Bears I ran out of Melonberry. Trips to three craft stores were in vain. I could buy the yarn online. One skein $2.99. Shipping $5.99. . . . . . NO WAY! I got a rain check at Beverly’s Fabrics where I had bought the first skein. “Don’t know when it will come in. We’ll give you a call.”

Yesterday I took the label off a one-gallon water bottle and stuffed my collected loose ends into it in one of those useless side-tracked-in-between actions that allowed me the time to rest my eyes. Interpreting those winged color patch ideas for hours on end can give you a headache. As I was loading the bottle, watching little snips of yarn swirl like psychedelic spaghetti, I thought of stained glass. I pulled a Marc Chagall book from a shelf and when I opened it I found four postcards I had carried around for over twenty years. “Glasfenster von Marc Chagall.” (Stained glass church windows by Marc Chagall)

Well, hello Mr. Chagall! A new vision for me. My color patches in the wind became squares separated by black lines. I rushed into my yarn room, dug up some black and a few variegated yarns. Settled on “Watercolor” and knitted for seven hours until my first Chagall Bear was finished. This morning I gave her a face. The mouth is a bit crooked; I love her mouth. I named her Chloe after the ancient Greek love story of Daphnis and Chloe, which Chagall interpreted in a serious of beautiful paintings. I know he would have liked my Chloe.

The book is: Marc Chagall “Daphnis and Chloe” Pegasus Library

No visitors today, please, I'm knitting..........

Well, at least Bear Number 183 is finished.

175 Bears

Bear 175

Bear 174

Bear 173

Bear 172

Bear 171

Bear 170

Bear 169

Bear 168

Bear 167

Bear 166

Bear 165

Bear 164

Bear 163

Bear 162

Bear 161

I spent several days sewing, stuffing, facing, and finally.....they are ready. Here are Bears 161 to 175.

Happy Mayday

This is Bear Number 175. I named her Mayflower

Head Start

I haven't finished Bears 161 to 174. They are still empty shells. But Bear 175 is finished. I used her as a project on Ravelry, started her on April 30 and finished her this morning.The mockingbird woke me at 6:30; I think he is trying to get a head start with practicing his song.He can now sing "tui tui twee tw:" it happens after every fourth "tui tui twee," and he seems surprised every time. He hesitates before he begins again.I imagine him sitting on the tip of the pine tree, frowning, maybe scratching his head, saying to himself: "Wow! I think I'm getting better at this!"

After half an hour of this birdbrain activity I got up to survey my shades of brown and beige yarn - leftovers from other Bears. Buff and Honey and Taupe and Coffee and Cafe and Chocolate and Linen. Enough to give me a head start on a few Bears. Later heads and bodies can be grafted together with a "Three Needle Bind Off." I found this expression online as I pondered a name for the activity of holding two unfinished pieces together - right sides touching - and binding them off into one piece.

How to Inspire a Mockingbird

Every spring a vocally dominant mockingbird takes up residence in my neighborhood. While I sometimes complain about three a m concerts, generally I am thrilled by the variety of musical patterns the birds produce. This year, however, I am haunted by the stunted expression of the songster who sits somewhere on a tree in back of my house. He arrived a week ago; I welcomed him with a smile. It must be spring. But wow, this bird has a major problem. He can’t sing. Is he incapable? Or just lazy?

I lie in bed listening to him repeat three syllables. Three syllables! Tui tui twee! Tui tui twee! And sometimes he gets stuck on the third syllable. Tui tui tw! Isn’t a mockingbird supposed to copy other birds? How can you mock with “tw.” I feel sorry for him, but then, he hasn’t yet tested my compassion in the darkness of the night. At seven in the morning, when he begins to practice, I am awake and busy putting together my schedule for the day; I register vague sadness over his lack of song, but quickly proceed to think of yarn, oatmeal, and seedlings.

Today I am intrigued by the word “variegated.” Soon after I brush my teeth I go to my computer and look up its exact meaning. Wiktionary says: “Streaked, spotted, or otherwise marked with a variety of color.” Merriam Webster sees it as: “Having discreet markings of different colors.”

I’ve always loved variegated yarns. Some are unpredictable since their markings change at irregular intervals. Others are less daring in their two-tone repetitions. Some produce bright splashes of color while some crawl along in subtle tonal shifts. Their names make me think of poetry. Aspen. Painted Desert. Watercolor. Camouflage. Peruvian Print .

Variegated yarns are wonderful for teddy bears. Paired with solid colors they produce in my brain the image of cotton candy, the sound of ocean waves, the solitude of a walk along the seashore in autumn. Lately I’ve gathered as many “variegates” as I could find in my big bucket of yarn balls, and knitted the shells of twelve bears. There will be more. I have to set an example for the mockingbird.

After breakfast I reach for my gardening gloves and head outdoors. “Variety is the spice of life,” I say out loud in the direction of the pine tree. I often use clichés when I am philosophical. “Tui tui twee will not make you king of the hill. Put some color into your song! Variegate!*

*Variegate - according to Webster’s College Dictionary’s second choice: to make interesting by variety.