Norway is known for its tales of trolls, but a long oral tradition also exists surrounding the Hidden Folk. Huldra the elf-maiden, who is sometimes helpful and sometimes dangerous, is one of the best known characters. Huldra appears in the novel Kristin Lavransdatter as the elf-maiden that attempts to lure a young Kristin into the forest.
“She stooped over the water and saw her own dark image rise from the bottom and grow clearer as it came to meet her—and then in the mirror of the pool she saw another figure standing among the birches opposite and bending toward her. In haste she got upon her knees and gazed across. At first she thought it was the rock and the bushes clinging round its foot. But all at once she was aware of a face amid the leaves—there stood a lady, pale, with waving flaxen hair—and great, light-grey eyes and wide pink nostrils. . . She was clad in something light, leaf-green, and branches and twigs hid her up to the broad breasts, which were covered over with brooches and sparkling chains.” —From Kristin Lavransdatter by Nobel Laureate Sigrid Undset.
So, when I decided to design a project for the upcoming publication,Enchanted Knits, Undset’s Huldra surfaced in my mind. I set to work developing a lace pattern with a reversible birch leaf motif.
Written in 1920, Kristin Lavransdatter is an epic historical novel set in fourteenth-century Norway. The story follows Kristin from childhood through a lifetime’s struggle with love and loss. Author Sigrid Undset (1882-1949), the daughter of a Norwegian archaeologist, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928.
Border Leicester sheep are wonderful grazers, becoming ever more proficient as they mature. At first glance, they may appear to nibble the forages indiscriminately, but they are actually feeling the plants with their lips and selecting what they want to eat. This isn’t as obvious when they are out on lush pasture where everything is tasty, but is easier to see when they are on rougher forage. I love to watch (and hear) them carefully select and munch at speed. Though it’s hard to hear in this video, there is a lip-smacking noise that the sheep often make as part of the selecting process. Listening to thirty sheep making this little pop, pop, pop noise all at once is impressive!
In this video is little Vina at three months, followed by Joan, a professional grazer if I ever saw one! They are in the back corner of a pasture that is over-mature (as happens when haymaking is late due to a wet spring/summer), so there are plenty of weeds, which the farmer regrets, but the sheep eat them with relish. Those of you in my local knitting and spinning classes will have probably heard tales of Joan’s noble ferocity and gallant nature. She’s also a bit piggy. Vina is her granddaughter.
I am using portable fencing to create small paddocks within the pasture. You can see the movable posts on the far side of the paddock. Each day, the sheep get a new strip of grass, because as we all know, grass is greener on the other side. This keeps them moving forward and reduces the area that they regraze.
Textiles—a heady word that encompasses cloth from all times, all places, and for all purposes. It connects everything from farm fields to Haute Couture, pre-historic peoples to glorious textured yarns spun with art batts. Every corner of the fiber-centric community that I am excited to be a part of is filled with interesting people asking interesting questions. Exploring even one textile technique or tradition can be a life’s work. And the people who immerse themselves in learning, traveling, and creating textiles tend to be passionate about sharing the object of their passion. We are so lucky that they do!
Have you seen the current issue of Spin-Off? It’s filled to the brim with world textile stories written by people driven to learn more. Ercil Howard-Wroth shares her trip to Tinkuy, Peru; Linda Ligon details thigh spinning in Mexico; and so much more. I was excited to have the opportunity to include Norway’s embroidered handcoverings in the mix. I’ve talked a bit about Norwegian handcoverings here and here, but editors Amy Clarke Moore and Anne Merrow gave me the opportunity to share more about the history of these special textiles and include a pattern for spinning and knitting your very own embroidered handcoverings.
The Telemark Rose Gloves combine elements of many different extant gloves from Telemark, Norway, that I have been lucky enough to see in museum collections and in print and online resources. You can browse through some of Telemark’s remarkable embroidered handcoverings in the Digitalt Museum online collection. For more information, check the pattern details on Ravelry.
Spring has sprung—and the lambs are bouncing! I have spent much of the last few weeks in the barn. I’ll still spend (too) much of my time with the sheep in the next month—not as a vigilant midwife, but for the sheer pleasure of watching the lambs grow and learn and play.
There always seems to be one or two lambs in every bunch that loves to strike a charming pose for the camera—Retty is the girl of the year. You can see her here on the left. Marian isn’t more than a few minutes older, but likes to fuss over her smallish sister.
Here in Indiana, we should already be seeing glimpses of spring by now, but alas… This winter has been especially cold and snowy, so we are all anxiously awaiting warmer weather. I typically schedule my ewes to lamb when the grass will be ready to graze, so they should start to arrive in mid-April. While we await their arrival, I posted a video of the lambs from last year. Nothing brings warmth and cheer quite like bouncing, joyful lambs—enjoy!
This is the third and final installment about my 2013 trip to Scotland, Shetland, and Norway.
We left Shetland and took the short flight to Bergen in western Norway on Midsummer’s Eve. Our hotel was near the university, which has a fantastic museum with a number of knitted artifacts on exhibit. I was surprised to see a few of them were pieces I had studied closely in some of my favourite knitting books, and I greeted them like old friends. (Like the sweater on page 14 of Susanne Pagoldh’s Nordic Knitting.) The museum’s permanent collection includes the earliest knitted fragment found in Norway to date. I was rapturous when I saw that it was included in the current exhibit. The fragment has been dated to the early sixteenth century. Translating the placard, I learned that it is knit in stockinette stitch using 2-ply wool, which was plied S (left). It appears to be fulled and is about 10 sts to the inch. The fragment was discovered during excavation in Bergen’s historic Bryggen area, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Since Bergen was a historically important trading port, determining whether this piece originated in Norway is difficult. I can’t share a picture of this lovely artifact, but here are some images from Bergen. Click on any image to open the gallery.
Bergen’s train station.
Looking towards Bryggen from the Fish Market
Gardens near the university.
I spent a blissful day at the Norsk Folkemuseum once we arrived in Oslo. Months before the trip, I arranged to visit the collections at the museum and selected a number of artifacts that I would like to see. When I arrived at the museum on a bright, sunny morning, I was met by the collections manager, Heidi.
Here is an example of the artifacts I was so very lucky to see. You can find these gloves (and more) on the digitaltmuseum.no database, and they are currently part of a new knitting exhibit at the Folkemuseum. These fingervanter (gloves) (NF.1901-0502AB) are particularly fine and well-preserved examples of fulled and embroidered handcoverings from the Telemark region. They were added to the museum collection in 1901. They are woolen—knitted and intensely fulled, with added cuffs of fulled cloth.
Do these gloves set your heart racing, too? One of the reasons I wanted to take a closer look at this particular pair is that there appeared to be several types of woolen embroidery thread used, and that is indeed the case. The elaborate Telemark-style patterns on the back of the hand are done with matte, 3 (or more) ply yarn, and the embroidered initials are done with a silky, 2-ply yarn. Itching to make your own? I wrote an article for the summer 2014 issue of Spin-Off about these yarns, their history, and how to spin your own. In the meantime, allow me to show you my favourite corner of the internet.
Step 1: Connect to NRK Folkemusikk, the Norwegian Broadcasting Company’s folk music station. (Also available through iTunes.) Step 2: Dive into the collections at digitaltmuseum.com.
These special buttons have a fascinating history. For three hundred years, intricately patterned buttons were produced in Dorset, England. Most often, these small, soft buttons were made by wrapping linen thread around a wire ring. With the invention of machine-made buttons in the mid-nineteenth century, the Dorset button industry all but disappeared.
I’m excited to share tips and tricks for making beautiful buttons using both traditional materials and modern knitting yarns in this live presentation.
I’ve also included a knitting pattern that incorporates Dorset buttons to get your creativity flowing. The Gold Hill Cowl combines a straight-forward lace pattern with my favourite one-row buttonhole—a great way to show off your button-making skills!
During the nineteenth century, Norway, like much of the world, was rapidly changing. In 1814, Norway declared its independence (officially dissolving the union with Sweden in 1905). By the 1830s, Norwegians were migrating to North America by the thousands in search of new opportunities. Many of these immigrants took small cultural mementos, like mittens, with them as they forged new and unknown paths. And some of those mittens that were carried across the sea by boat in wooden trunks eventually made their way into the collections of some wonderful museums, such as the Nordic Heritage Musuem in Seattle, Washington, and Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum in Decorah, Iowa.
I am fascinated by the immigrant experience—the process of interpreting a new culture, bringing some traditions forward and leaving others behind. Being particularly interested in material culture and textiles, I find collections of letters written by immigrants especially useful. In Solveig Zempel’s wonderful book, In Their Own Words: Letters from Norwegian Immigrants, you can read about Berta Serina Kingestad, a single mother who settled in Illinois. In an 1889 letter home to Norway, Berta asked her family to send her black wool which she could spin with white American wool on a borrowed spinning wheel. She hoped to knit new woolens for her baby, Sven. Berta’s letters were the inspiration for one of my recent knitting patterns, Mittens for Sven. This stranded baby mitten pattern is included in Baby Knits From Around the World, a collection of patterns edited by Kari Cornell and published by Creative Publishing International.
With the first hints of turning leaves in the air, I start to relax. The smell of autumn is a welcome reminder that the long, busy days of summer and early fall on the farm do draw to a close. The farm has been a flurry of activity this year. We built a new barn for the sheep this spring and have been renovating fields and pastures. The lambs born this spring, which you can see here, are growing and are also enjoying the cool evenings.
Due to the pasture renovations, most of the sheep are in the new barn this fall. It is big and airy and sunny, but they would much rather be out of doors. Luckily for them, we have a bumper-crop of Giant Ragweed this year. In the evenings, I drag a dozen of the six-foot weeds into the barn, to the great pleasure of the captive flock.
Gerald and his friends are out in a separate pasture and are enjoying the cool evenings.
We are trying a variety of new forages in this pasture renovation. My dad is a Research Fellow at IUPUI as well as a farmer, so these on-farm trials are the result of much study and thought—as you might expect! This field was the first cleared on the farm toward the end of the 1800s—a bit late for this area in Indiana. Sitting adjacent to the house and barns, it has always been used for the farm’s horses. I found a horseshoe that was turned up by the tillage. My grandfather said, based on the shape, that it probably belonged to a horse my great-grandfather Urbane called New Deal. This seeder was one of Urbane’s purchases and the owner’s manual, which is still tucked inside a toolbox attached to the hitch, has detailed instructions on how to connect it to a team of horses. It was very sophisticated when new, and still does a great job. It makes a distinctive, antique sound when in use, mostly due to chains that drag on the soil surface to partially cover the seeds.