Rural Manitoba Memoirs by Leanne Dyck (family memoir) part 3

Last Sunday, you learned that the First World War was hard on my grandfather and grandmother. This Sunday...?

After WWI, many soldiers returned to Canada to farm or to teach school or to... My grandfather... And what about my grandmother? Did they remain in Manitoba...in Eriksdale?

This is the house where my dad was born. I lived in this house until I was 20.

My grandfather built some if not all of this house.

Rural Manitoba Memories

Aunty Kay: Daddy returned in the spring of 1919.

Dad: I was born in Eriksdale in 1920 and as there was no hospital here I decided the easiest and simplest course was for me to be born at home, which I was—home being the house where we still live at the junction of highway 6 and 68.

Aunty Kay: In 1922, I arrived to complete the family.

Grandma: Home from the war, Jim decided to open a Tea Shop. We reasoned the farmers’ horses need a rest—the farmer also needs a spot of refreshment, like a cup of tea and buns—so in 1920, opened the shop. Jim couldn’t do it alone, so we added rooms on the back of the shop and moved in. Jimmie was 2 years old, Kay six months.

Dad: Eriksdale was an exciting, interesting place for a boy to grow up.

We lived downtown, where all the action was; farmers driving their horses to do their shopping and other business. Passenger trains and freight trains passed through town. Almost every night we would have a rock train thunder down the track.

We had four general stores, a butcher shop, two hotels, one of which was three stories high, there were a couple of blacksmith shops, a grain elevator, a creamery, and two garages.

Ward’s Garage was nearby. It was a favourite hang-out of mine until I began using colourful language that I’d picked up there. My mother was not impressed; decided if I was able to learn those words I could learn better things. So at the age of five, I was off to school.

My teachers were all dedicated people who worked very hard to give me an education.

Equipment and teaching aids were not readily available at the time so improvisation and inspiration were the tools they used.

Grandma: We were ten years in the restaurant business, gradually taking in a stock of groceries. As cars came in, the tea shop business declined and at last was dropped.

OTHER PEOPLE'S MEMORIES

Leanne (Willetts) Dyck

One of my summer jobs during High School was as a tour guide at the Eriksdale Museum. I enjoyed losing myself in other people's memories.

Maybe locals came in but I don't remember them. Tourists were the ones who stood out. They wanted to learn about us and the museum was their introduction. Most traveled from other parts of Manitoba or Canada or even from the United States. A man came from England. He impressed me by using four place names in his address. And I remember a woman. I'll always remember her.

I greeted her with a smile. "Hello, I'm Leanne Willetts."

And she said, "Willetts? Your grandfather, Mr. J.H. Willetts, owned a Red and White store. He sold groceries, dry goods, and cattle feed.

"The depression was hard on farmers like my dad. He needed feed for our cows, but he didn't have any money. Those cows were the only things keeping the wolf from our door. So, he swallowed his pride and asked your grandfather to loan him the feed.

"Mr. Willetts was a businessman. He needed to make money--his family needed to eat. But you know what your grandfather did?" Her eyes were wet with tears as she told me, "He gave my dad the feed--gave it to him."

Yes, I'll always remember her.

Aunty Kay: When they closed the lunch room [tea shop], we moved back to the house on the corner of what is now Highway 6 and 68.

Uncle Jim: Jim and I began our friendship in our early teens. Jim spent almost as much time at our house as he did at home. To begin with, everyone called him Jimmie the Kid, but that was soon shortened to just Kid.

We played hardball on the senior team, only because they needed all the bodies they could get. Jim played right field for a time. Jim also played goal for our hockey team.

If the other team got the first goal Jim would grit his teeth and they had to work hard to get any more! He played goal for Lundar too when our team thought they had a better goalie. He showed us a thing or two then!

Later on when I started driving truck, I would go and pick up Jim to go with me. Sometimes at night I would go and tap on his window to wake him up—NOT on his sister’s window! [Uncle Jim married Aunty Kay in the spring of 1946—and they lived happily ever after.] I was always afraid that their super-hound Snip would take a piece out of me! One year Jim drove for Pop, we went to all the country dances we could afford and got so we could do the Shottishe and all that.

Dad: All good things come to an end and school ended.

Leanne: My dad was sixteen when he attained the highest level of education available in Eriksdale, at the time—grade eleven. However, he continued to self-educate throughout his life. He especially enjoyed reading both religious and scientific books.

I'm blessed to come from a family of writers. People who wrote for fun and to build community. Their writing built this memoir.

 The memories continue...

Read the next installment of 

Rural Manitoba Memories

on April 28 at approximately 4:40 P.M.

More about Eriksdale...

Rural Manitoba Memories by Leanne Dyck (family memoir) part 2

 Last Sunday you learned that my grandpa Willetts planted a seed in Eriksdale, Manitoba's rocky soil, that grew the tree that eventually produced me. This Sunday...?

Among my family's legacy is the story of the toll waiting takes on women during the time of war. 

I'm guessing but I think the woman in this photo is my grandma Willetts 

and I think she was a nurse's aide during WWI.

Rural Manitoba Memories

Aunty Kay: My mother was born in Manchester, England and came to Canada to stay with her sister-in-law and her three young nephews while my uncle Tom was working in Winnipeg.

Grandma: Mrs. Everette and I (I was twelve years younger than she) often talked about writing a book, in our younger days. We both had a good sense of humour, she used to say, “We’ll tell them what it is really like, living up here, how I broke my best Sunday-go-to-meeting parasol over the oxen’s back when he decided to walk into a mud hole to rest and relax on the way home from town.”

Aunty Kay: Uncle Tom’s homestead was next to my dad’s. My mom and dad were married the following year.

Leanne: My grandparents married on December 18, 1913. Seven months later—on July 28, 1914—the First World War was declared.

Grandma: Tom went overseas in 1914 and within nine months he was dead. Jim went overseas in 1916.

Leanne: As a newlywed, and while grieving her brother, Grandma had to watch her newly-wedded husband march off to war. I can’t even imagine how much courage, strength and faith she must have possessed. How many times did she twist the Mizpah ring on her finger and offer a silent prayer?

Mizpah Prayer

May the Lord watch between me and three while we are parted, one from another.

Grandpa was a pacifist. He requested to serve as a stretcher-bearer. The army, in its wisdom, made him a gunner.

Aunty Kay: Daddy served overseas at Arras, Lens and Passchendaele with the 16^th Canadian Scottish under Colonel Peck.

Leanne: TheCanadian Encyclopedia describes Lens as ‘the first major action fought by the Canadian Corps under a Canadian commander.’

Colonel Cyrus Wesley Peck was awarded the Victoria Cross and the Distinguished Service Order for acts of bravery.

A Tale From The First World War

A. J. Willetts [my dad]

published in Memory Opens the Door, 1974

One day after the folks had moved to BC, they were back here visiting and Dad went with me to the train to pick up the mail for the Post Office.

One of the crew stepped off the train and Dad said, "Well if it isn't Wilfred Lamb."

They shook hands and, pleased to meet each other, immediately began talking. As they chatted Dad told Mr. Lamb about a notice he had found on the wall of a bombed-out building in France, during the First World War. The notice advertised a boxing match, to be held in Eriksdale, between Wilfred Lamb, Peter Whittall and others.

Thinking the paper would be of interest to Mr. Lamb, Dad arranged to meet him on the station next morning when the train went south, to give it to him. Then he went on to tell me how he had come by the notice.

"I was with the 16^th Canadian, and they were a pretty tough regiment. It didn't matter how tired we were, we always marched back from the lines. But, there came a day at Passchendaele, when the regiment was in bad shape, we were told to make our way back as best we could. I was so weary I just had to sit down to rest.

"While I rested, my pack of ammunition slipped off unnoticed and I had gone quite a distance before I realized what had happened. Without protection, I would not get far, so I picked up the rifle and ammunition of the first dead German soldier I came across and continued to make my way back. I met one of our officers and hurried to explain the lost equipment and my reluctance to be travelling in that area without some means of protection.

" 'Good thinking, soldier, carry on,' was his comment.

"When I came across the bombed-out shell of a building, I knew it was time to rest awhile, for I was incredibly tired. I probably dozed a bit, then as I looked around in the dim light I could see 'ERIKSDALE' in huge letters on the wall opposite my resting place. That shook my confidence considerably. It just could not be, not here in France. But, it was there. Each time I looked up I could see it. Clearly, I had become deranged, 'looped' as some of the fellows called it. I hurried away from that spot, yet, that word 'ERIKSDALE' on that wall haunted me. Had I been seeing things, or was it real?

Next day I went back to that place. It was there. On a great big notice! A notice telling of a boxing match, to be held in far away Eriksdale, Manitoba. My home town! I took it down and sent it home and that is the paper I shall give to Wilfred Lamb, tomorrow."

How did the notice get on a wall in France? Who knows? I have pondered that question many times.

Probably, someone from 'home' had sent it to their soldier at the front. He, for want of something better to do, had hung it there—and perhaps for a few moments forgot the Hell of War as he gazed at an ordinary notice from home—and savored in dreams, the day when he would be 'going home'. 

It is quite a few years since that day. Wilfred Lamb passed away not long after and I have often thought I should have had a copy made of that notice, but—one is inclined to put off things not of immediate concern. Now, it is too late.

I'm blessed to come from a family of writers. People who wrote for fun and to build community. Their writing built this memoir.

The memories continue...

Read part 3 of 

Rural Manitoba Memories

Rural Manitoba Memories by Leanne Dyck (family memoir) part 1

 Writing purchases for the writer a kind of immortality. 

My dad, my aunt and my paternal grandparents all wrote--for fun and to build community. I've collected their writing for many years. This memoir was pieced together from that collection (with additional words, here and there, from other contributors) as a loving tribute to my family. 

Aunty Kay and Grandma Willetts

Rural Manitoba Memories

Aunty Kay: They say the greatest things parents can give children are roots and wings. Leanne’s roots are right here in a little town in the Interlake where she has grown up surrounded by a loving and caring family.

Leanne: My paternal grandfather’s hand-written memoir begins…

Grandpa: I, J. H. Willetts was born on May 7, 1886, in a small house in Allastone Mene near Lydney, Gloucestershire.

Leanne: Grandpa was the fourth son in a family of ten—eight siblings, two sisters, and six brothers. In 1889, his youngest brother Albert died of diphtheria. Albert was four and a half. Three years later, in 1901, Joseph, an older brother by three years, died in a mine accident. Joseph was eighteen. Life was tough in Allastone Mene. It’s not surprising that Grandpa would want to try a new somewhere else.

One fine May day in 1906, after promising to visit his mother, Grandpa packed his bags—or, no doubt, bag. He travelled to Liverpool, boarded the good ship Lake Manitoba and set sail for Montreal. Grandpa was twenty years old.

Aunty Kay: Daddy came to Selkirk, Manitoba as his brother Charles had a contracting business there. He worked for a few months on construction for the Canadian Pacific Railway near Kenora. In the spring of 1907, he decided to take up a homestead in the Manitoba Interlake.

Lucy Lindell, local historian: Eriksdale’s first white settler was probably Jonas Eric Erikson, who applied for his homestead on March 20, 1906, though presumably, he had been living there as a squatter prior to that date. It is known that Manuel Erikson, Jonas’ son, had a small log shack near the southern most corner of the north west quarter of the section, adjacent to his father’s quarter on which is now, the village proper.

Leanne: Eriksdale was built on the ancestral home of the Cree. Manitoba is the birthplace of the Metis nation. All through grade school, I had Cree and Metis friends and classmates. As reported in the 2016 census, Metis was the third largest ethnic group. The largest ethnic group was English, followed by Scottish.

The Rural Municipality of Eriksdale, Manitoba was formed in 1918.

The memories continue...

Read the next installment of 

Rural Manitoba Memories

Did You Know...

Kat Brown, The essential books to read about neurodiversity, January 31, 2023

Book Review: My Effin' Life by Geddy Lee (memoir)

Geddy Lee is an inviting, engaging and generous author. In My Effin' Life, he writes openly and honestly about his life and his music. I highly recommend this book to fledgling musicians and Rush fans.

My Effin' Life

Geddy Lee

co-authored by Daniel Richler

Harper

an imprint of Harper Collins Publishers

2023

(memoir)

507 pages

As a teenager, I didn't listen to metal music. I was scared of the sound, the musicians, the fans. They seemed consumed by an uncontrollable rage. I ran away, hid away, afraid to be near them, fearful that rage would be directed at me. 

However...

One day, my boyfriend (now husband) told me to "Listen to this."

The music was strange, unnerving...Metal

"I don't like--."

"Just keep listening."

I did and... And... "I like that song." and that one... and that one.

I sang along. I attended concerts. I became a Rush fan.

One day, my husband came into the living room carrying a book. "Leanne, you need to read this."

I can count my husband's book recommendations on the fingers of one hand. 

He gave me the book. It weighed a ton. "I don't read thick books. 200 to 300 that's about my range--ideally closer to 200. Thick books don't maintain my interest. And lately, I've been on a bit of a reading jag. I've started one book after another but haven't finished any. I'm afraid I won't do this book just--." I looked up. Byron was gone. He'd left the room.

I had a decision to make, I could leave the book on the end table, unread or hunt Byron down and give the book back or...

I opened the book and began to read... Correction, I didn't so much read this book as was led through it by foreshadowing such as...

'as I will show you in time" (p. 16) 

My Effin' Life is full of humour. I laughed out loud so many times. One of those times, my husband overheard me. "What's so funny?" I told him and he laughed too.

Geddy listed his early musical influences and many--who am I kidding--most of the names sailed right past me, but then he mentioned Paul Simon and Jonie Mitchell and, and... 

"there are certain words I sing in Rush in a very Bjork-like manner." (p. 100)

Bjork? That warmed this Icelandic-Canadian's heart.

Geddy lists his literary influences: John Wyndham and Ayn Rand

"The more influences one has that are then filtered through one's own personality, the more one ends up with a style and a sound that one can legitimately call one's own." (p. 212)

My Effin' Life is infused with wisdom...

"I used to advise my kids or pals whenever they were at a crossroads to just keep moving forward with positive energy, either you will find the answer or it will find you." (p. 503)

There's a lot in this book. Why not take it off the shelf and see what you find.

Did you know...

Dyslexic author

Dav Pikey

And this...

Friday, March 29 at 4:36 pm

I'm blown away by your generous support. Thank you!

 April and May on this blog...

Book Review: We Spread by Iain Reid

What is it like to grow old? What struggles do senior citizens face? Why, how do they (we) keep on living? 

We do not all blend together. We are not ruined, helpless, a burden. We are not the elderly. We are not old people. Now, still, we're unique. Distinct. Regardless of what we've produced or what happens to our bodies. We each have our own memories and experiences, even if they've been lost and forgotten.' (p. 281-282)

 

We Spread

Iain Reid

Scribner

an imprint of Simon & Schuster UK

finalist for the Governor General's Literary award

2023

286 pages

(thriller, suspense, science fiction, psychological fiction)

Senior citizen Penny lives alone as age robs her of all she has ever known, all she has loved, all she has thrived to achieve. She tells us about losing her attention span, her cognitive decline, her fading memories, her lost days, and her uncertain present. When she was younger she enjoyed cooking for herself and others. Now she exists on meagre meals.  She worked as a bank teller in the same bank for over twenty-five years. Now she has difficulty focusing long enough to read a novel. She was in a long-term committed relationship with a famous artist until death robbed her of his companionship. She regrets not investing more time pursuing her passion--painting. Now it is too late. Now all she can do is live in fear of the end. 

The end comes, one day, when she climbs a chair to change a light bulb. She falls and that brings an end to her old life. She has no choice but to begin a new in Six Cedars--a long-term-care facility. In Six Cedars, Penny finds community and friendship; she develops a new appreciation for ageing; she learns that it is not too late to share her art with others. 

At times I found We Spread a difficult book to read. I'm 61 years old and some scenes made me apprehensive about my future. But I'm glad I did finish reading this book. The ending is truly heart-warming.

Did you know...

Dyslexic author

John Irving

Next Sunday...

Interviews with Knitwear Designers by Leanne Dyck

What is it like to be a knitwear designer? What are the challenges? What are the rewards? How did they begin their career? Who taught them to knit?

photo by ldyck

From 2010 to 2012, for this blog, I interviewed a community of knitwear designers--for this blog. These interviews offer a unique insight into the career of knitwear design. 

Interviews with Knitwear Designers

My advise to knitters is to enjoy the process. You should allow yourself to experience the pleasure of all that yarn running through your fingers, how you feel about your accomplishments, learning new things, and seeing what transpires as you manipulate your yarn and needles. In the end, if you had to knit the same ball of yarn over and over, it could still be a pleasure (well, for a while). We get too focused on the price of the materials we are using and how long it takes and we forget how much we get out of it. Not only do we create things, we entertain ourselves, sooth ourselves, and it helps us get through things we’d just rather not (kid’s sports, waiting rooms, family visits, you name it!)

JillWolcott

Knitwear Designer, Author

Jill Wolcott Knits

Who taught you to knit?

I was taught to knit by my mother when I was five years old. I remember carrying my knitting around the neighbourhood that summer while I was working on my first project—a baby pink scarf. I don’t honestly remember if I ever finished it but I do remember that several of the rows were a dirty grey because I must have been knitting with grubby hands. I also remember counting my stitches at the end of every row and then running home to have my mum fix my dropped stitches.

Holli Yeoh

Knitwear Designer, Author

Where is your favourite place to knit?

Two places: Sitting on the sofa in our basement, the dog snuggled between me and my hubby, watching something good on TV, with a cup of tea at hand. My second favourite place to knit is the streetcar: I have a long commute to one of my regular teaching gigs, and I enjoy very much getting a window seat, listening to music on my headphones, knitting away and enjoying the view as the city goes by. The first is comfier, but the second location has better light!

Kate Atherley

Knitwear Designer, Author

When did you become a knitwear designer?

I’m not sure, I think I always have been. I’ve worked professionally in this business for two years (this interview was conducted in 2012) but I am just now getting to the point where I feel okay to call myself a “Knitwear Designer”. I honestly think people throw the term ‘designer’ around way too much. Designers are those who work tirelessly for their art. It’s like a home baker calling themselves a Chef. There is a big difference!

How did you become a knitwear designer?

WORK!! Lots of work! I average about 100 hours a week. I wake at seven and work until bedtime. That's the only way to make it in this business. You have to be willing to put in the time.

Rohn Strong

Knitwear Designer, Author

Crafting a Handmade Home

How did you become a knitwear designer?

Like many people, I started altering patterns, then I morphed into designing my own patterns just for myself, then decided to start developing patterns for public consumption.

Stephanie Tallent

Knitwear Designer, Author

SunsetCat Designs

I've always created. I majored in crafts (jewellery, ceramics and textiles) in art college and received my degree in Fine Arts. I was working as a jeweller, both teaching and designing, and was feeling uninspired. We wanted to have a baby and I felt that the toxins I was exposed to at the jewellery studio were just too risky. Knitting was my passion though and it was consuming all of my free time. I decided that it was time to apply my design skills to knitting.

It didn't occur to me that I had no instruction or experience in knitwear design. My art college education gave me a good grounding in design in a general sense and I applied that and my common sense to figuring out how to design knitting patterns. There were few resources at the time although now there are many books on designing your own knits.

Holli Yeoh

Knitwear Designer, Author

Tell me about your first pattern. Where was it first published?

About ten years ago (2010), I was shopping at the Boulder Handweavers’ Guild annual sale and I saw a marvelous felted bag that I wanted to buy. It was $75, and quite outside of my budget at the time. I was with my mom at the sale and we decided we would try to figure out how to make the bag ourselves, so we went to the local yarn shop, bought some wool yarn and a book with some information on felting, and I went home and started to play. I ended up with one of my favorite bags of all time—I still use it today—and it also became my published knitting design.

My first published design was in Family Circle Easy Knitting. I always loved that magazine and was sad to see it go away!

Donna Druchunas

Knitwear Designer, Author

Sheep to Shawl

What is the most rewarding aspect about being a knitwear designer? What’s the most challenging?

Creating something that people love to knit is a fabulous feeling! I think self doubt is the most challenging. Every time a design goes out, it’s a part of me, and I’m hoping that I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking it looks good!

Rosemary Hill

Knitwear Designer, Author

Designs by Romi

What is the most rewarding aspect of being a knitwear designer? 

It's exciting to see knitters' reactions to my designs to see if they understand what I'm trying to communicate with them. Being able to spend my days immersed in the knitting—both the physical knitting and the planning and making it work part—are immensely rewarding.

Challenging?

Marketing and paperwork are definitely challenging for me. I would love to be able to just create and have someone else swoop in and spread the word for me and do my books.

Holli Yeoh

Knitwear Designer, Author

Did you know...

Famous Dyslexic Authors...

Jeff Kinney

Next Sunday...

When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (The End)

"spring" photo by ldyck

Chapter Eighteen (The End)

 “I kept designing, knitting and sharing my work.” I took a sip of tea. “Now my sweaters are sold in boutiques in North America and Europe. Now yarn shops around the world sell my hand knitting patterns. Now knitters line up to attend my workshops on the Norwegian purl. And it’s all because I dared to dream and continued to work to fulfill that dream. It’s all because of Auntie Ollie, Marta and Jaron.” Tale complete, I took my knitting out of the basket beside my chair.

“What are you knitting?” Kyla asked.

“I’m just playing.” Shorthand. This time it meant designing sweaters for Pall’s first grand-baby—due in a couple of months. Pall was the last of his brothers to work the family farm back in Manitoba. Soon he would retire and pass the farm down to the next generation.

“Time for lunch, ladies,” Jaron called up the stairs. “Or should I say gals or women or...” Giving himself time to think, he called, “Come eat, knitters.”

This is me 

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When Gwen Knits

I enjoyed sharing this story with you.

The End...

of this story but there is always more.

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When Gwen Knits

Chapter one 

Next Sunday...

When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (Chapter 17)

Chapter Sixteen: To celebrate their first Christmas as a couple, Gwen designs and knits a sweater for Jaron. 

photo by ldyck

Chapter Seventeen

One evening, Jaron dropped by Urban Knits to help me close—our friend Wen, the sous-chef at The Starving Artist, was starring in Merrily We Roll Along, a play presented by the United Players of Vancouver and staged in the Jericho Arts Centre. The Centre was a couple of blocks from the yarn shop.

To be more accurate, I was closing and Jaron was trying not to get in the way. He spun the revolving stand displaying knitting magazines. Around and around the stand spun, but then... “Have you sent your pattern for the..." He grinned. "My sweater to a publisher yet?” He knew the answer; he really didn't need to ask. “No, eh? Well, you should. You should send it to Needles and Yarn.” He pulled the magazine off the stand. The cover announced a contest for wanna-be knitwear designers.

“But what if I don't win?”

“But what if you do? Either way, it's just one step. You can't play it safe all the time. Sometimes you have to take a risk. I believe in you. Believe in yourself.”

With his support, I took the step.

Months later, I was sitting on the sofa, working on a new design when I heard our apartment door open.

“This came for you.” Jaron handed me what appeared to be an ordinary white business-size envelope. The top line of the return address read Needles and Yarn.

“It's from them,” I told him.

“Wait. Wait.” He poured us both a glass of wine.

The envelope held the key to my future. The months of waiting had painted it vividly: fame, fortune, and a sheep farm where I'd learn to spin and dye. I took a sip of wine to steady my nerves. I unfolded the letter knowing it alone could validate my existence.

“Read it out loud,” Jaron instructed.

“Thank you for submitting to Needles and Yarn, but...” my voice wavered, “unfortunately, we cannot accept your design for publication.”

I heard them screaming at me: “Loser! Your design sucks. You suck. You're not a designer. You're a loser!” I tilted my head and drained the glass. All I wanted was to drink. I poured myself another glass. But... I saw my dad in his coffin. I pushed the wine bottle away.

Jaron held me in his strong arms, and let me cry. Not all men can deal with emotion but Jaron could, can.

“Just one step,” he reminded me. “They said no. That's their loss. Remember how well your patterns sell at Urban Knits. Remember how many complaints we received for your sweater. Let that success empower you, and fuel you. Send your design to another magazine and another and another. Being an artist is hard work and you've got to be brave. You've got to believe in yourself. And if you do, I promise you. You will succeed.”

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Why don’t you send your manuscript to a publisher? I know it’s good. You know it’s good. A publisher will know it’s good too. All you have to do is find them.”

“All, huh?” He said, but he also said, “Okay, it’s a deal you send your pattern to a magazine and I’ll send my manuscript to a publisher.”

When I was ready, when we were ready, we sent our work out—again and again and again.

Read the final chapter of 

When Gwen Knits

photo by Eleanor

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When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (Ch 16)

Chapter Fifteen: Jaron makes room for Gwen's yarn in his apartment and they move in together. 

 photo by ldyck

Chapter Sixteen

 To celebrate our first Christmas together, I was inspired to design and knit Jaron a sweater—like a knitwear designer's love ballad. Around the time I hatched that plan, a shipment of yarn arrived from a new supplier. Marta read the label before slicing open the first box. She pulled out a plastic bag containing several skeins of yarn. “Alpaca is a beautiful yarn with a luxurious, fine drape.” She tore open the bag and handed me a skein. The label read Suri Alpaca. She sliced open another box. This label read Huacaya. On another box, that label described the fibre content as 50% wool/50 % alpaca.

I couldn't decide between a deep purple or a subtle grey. Then I found the perfect shade of periwinkle—Jaron's favourite colour. I did some mental calculations and scooped ten skeins into my arms—one more than I thought I'd need.

My knitting went quickly, and days before Christmas I sewed the seams and wove in the ends. Love in each stitch, I couldn't wait to see Jaron's reaction. I placed the sweater in the bottom of a gift bag and stuffed the bag with tissue paper. On Christmas Day, tissue paper flew.

As he pulled out the sweater, Jaron sang, “Oh, Gwen, this is beautiful!” 

He wore it all day and to every special occasion—New Year's parties, book readings, and art openings.

“My girlfriend is a fibre artist. She designed and knit this sweater,” he told everyone. “I know, she's very talented.”

He collected compliments like wildflowers and presented the bouquet to me.

Read chapter Seventeen of 

When Gwen Knits

"Billie and me on Mayne Island's community bus" photo by Leanne

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When Gwen Knit

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