The Marple Shawl

This was a pattern reprinted in last fall's "Needlework and literature" issue of Piecework. It is a reprint of a pattern called "Stripes of Openwork and Stocking-Stitch" from a ca. 1930 issue of Weldon's Magazine.

The pattern was presented as an example of something that Miss Marple could have possibly knit (If, as I said, she were a real human being, rather than a creation of Agatha Christie). I was intrigued by the pattern (Just as I love recipes-of-the-past, I also love patterns-of-the-past) and I realized I had several balls of Noro's Silk Garden Sockweight that would work for it.

So I began. And I knit, and I knit. I started it, I think, shortly before Christmas of last year. Like lots of large projects, it takes a long time. For a long while, it was my invigilating knitting - because it was easy to carry, the pattern was easily memorized, I didn't have to look at it while I worked, and there were no stitch markers marking off pattern sections (stitch markers have an unfortunate habit of popping off and flying away at inopportune times when you're trying to knit unobtrusively).

As the months wore on and I began on the decreasing section, I realized I might run short of yarn. I quick check of Simply Sock Yarn - the place I had bought the original yarn - showed they had it, but not the same dyelot (that turned out not to matter much). Alison, the owner, warned me that the yarn had been discontinued, so I figured it was prudent to buy the extra ball then. As it turned out, that was smart, because I needed it for the last 20 or so rows - and since I had yarn to spare, I went ahead and did the little single-crochet edging (called "dc" in Weldon's British terminology - but I knew it was British, and also the photo showed me something that was obviously what I call single crochet).

So it's done. And it's very lovely. I soaked it in warm water with a bit of shampoo in it to soften the yarn (and to test colorfastness - and amazingly, this yarn did not bleed ANY dye into the water, unlike other Noro yarns I have worked with). And then I pinned it out on the carpet in my parents' living room (with their permission; they don't use that room all that much) and let it dry for a couple of days.



This is one of those happy cases, I think, where a color-patterning yarn interacts WELL with the stitch pattern - I have my share of cabled socks made of dark variegated yarns where you cannot see the cables, and I've ripped out a few things where a self-patterning pattern fought with the stitch pattern I wanted to do.

It's nice and warm. And while the yarn is softer after its bath, it still has a pleasantly "crunchy" and rustic feel.

I carried the shawl to church today, to put on over my little thin chambray dress (this is yet another dress I made - it's more than a dozen years old now but it still looks good)



And a "wingspan view" -



I wound up not having to wear the shawl - the air-conditioning was not that cold - but I was glad I had it anyway, for comfort. At one point I just reached over and put my hand on it.

Because, just as the minister was getting ready to launch into the announcements, I heard the back door open, and heard a woman cry out and then leave.

"That sounded like my friend Dessie" I thought. And I wondered what was wrong.

Almost before I could come up with possibilities, one of the other women ran up to the front and handed a note to the minister.

Dessie's father, Dr. B., had died. Just a few minutes previously, I guess, and the nursing home where he lived sent someone to fetch Dessie.

Dr. B. was very important to our congregation. He was a retired minister - he was the senior pastor years before I was there (before I was born, even: he was something like 94 or 95). He had stepped back into the pulpit after the church split in 2003, trading off with another retired minister. I credit him as being one of the main people who helped gather up the little remnant of scared, sad, hurting people when the congregation split, and patching us up, and getting us going again, and convincing us that we could continue to exist and even grow and prosper as a church.

One of the elders at the Communion table today referred to him as a "good and righteous man" and I think that's probably the best-fitting short description.

I got to know him when I started helping with the youth program. His three great-grandsons were in the program, and so he'd show up, as often as he could (even back then his health was not the greatest) to help out and provide encouragement.

He was one of those people that I consider the best sort of example of the Christian faith: he did not use his faith as a bat to hit other people with or tell them they were wrong. Nor did he use it as a wall to build up between "us" the Christians and "them" the unchurched or those who believed differently. He used it, instead, as a reminder to show love the way he believed God loved, and as a guide for his own behavior. If someone asked him to talk of his faith he would gladly share it - but he did not try to persuade unwilling parties. Instead, he simply loved them and treated them with kindness and respect.

I think of two things he used to say to me. Knowing I was a professor, he would exhort me to "Teach 'em good!" (oh, he knew the properly grammatical way of saying that, but he preferred to use the more homey form). Or he'd encourage me to "keep fighting against ignorance!" And he didn't just mean that in my duties as a Sunday school teacher or a youth group leader. (We had some interesting discussions about evolution - he was perfectly willing to accept it as a natural fact, and suggested that he saw it as perhaps even a tool used by God).

So I thought highly of him and felt close to him. So, sitting in church this morning (I admit, I didn't "hear" much of the sermon; I was thinking about him and his family), I felt kind of like I had lost a family member.

I admit that though it's sad, it's not entirely unexpected. As I said, he was up considerably in years. His wife passed back in May and everyone expected he would follow not long after. I know he had expressed a lot of concern for his wife, were he to pre-decease her: he was physically frail, but he was still as mentally sharp as he ever had been (even was, the last time I saw him). She, however, had advanced Alzheimer's and he feared that if he died, there would be no one at the nursing home to watch over and advocate for her as he had done. (He knew their daughter would try, but of course, she could not be there 24/7).

He had just recently returned from a family reunion and I wonder if he was just holding on for one more family reunion - and then, he felt as if he could "let go." (I do believe that some people DO "hold on" long enough for some milestone...that some people may be able to willfully stave off the end of their lives for at least a few days that way).

I don't know yet when the funeral will be. I'm hoping it's Thursday, when there will be a bigger gap in time. If it's Wednesday, I'd probably have to cancel class...and honestly? I'm not sure Dr. B. would have wanted me to for something like this. (If nothing else, I can go to the "family time" the night before.)

I'll miss him - but he had a long, very good, very loved life.