outdoors

What Insect are You?

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We have been photographing lots of insects lately. Well, let’s be honest, ‘we’ mainly means my husband – he is much better at it. But sometimes I’m lucky and get a good shot, too.

Let’s zoom in – bzzzz – and wow, look at that huge eye!

Because of the size and shape of its eyes alone, it must see the world totally differently from us. Looking at insects through the lens of my camera made me stop and think. We share our world with so many creatures we don’t even know exist. Of course I know that there are bees and bugs, midges and mosquitoes, but when you begin looking at them properly a whole new universe opens up. These creatures also have (love) lives…

They are busy gathering food, caring for their offspring, developing and going through different stages in their lives.

Different life stages of a six-spot burnet (above)

I wonder, if I were and insect, what insect would I be? To find the answer, I took a test. Turns out I’m a bee. Hmmm, yes, I’m always busy as a bee. But living in a big colony? Everything in the service of the Queen Bee? That’s not really me.

But wait, not all bees are honey bees. There are also bumblebees. Me, bumbling around? Not really. No, come to think of it, I’m more like a wild solitary bee. And then my husband came up with the answer: I’m a wool carder bee! (Thank you for the wool carder bee photos and info, sweetheart.)

In our garden they visit the hairy lamb’s ear plants…

… to scrape ‘wool’ from the leaves, roll it up and use it for making their nests. Here is a close-up of a wool carder bee with a ball of ‘wool’:

A wool carder bee, that’s me to a tee. How about you? What insect are you? Are you a grasshopper?

Or a butterfly? (Are butterflies even insects? There is so much I don’t know yet.)

A bee like me, or a different insect altogether? The British Natural History Museum has developed a fun quiz to help you find out.

Well, I’m buzzing off to add some woolly things to our nest. I’d love to hear what insect you are!

Between the Showers

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Hello! While some of you have been melting in a heatwave, we have had extremely variable weather with strong winds, sunshine, rain, thunderstorms. One moment the sky was bright blue…

… and the next dark clouds gathered and the rain pelted down.

In other parts of the country, the storms uprooted trees and caused other havoc. Here, the wind only tore off some pears in our back garden.

On the whole, it’s been great knitting weather. Between the showers I’ve taken my knitting outside for some pictures. I’ve started on a Norwegian cardigan.

The pattern is in Kofteboken 2, by Lene Holme Samsøe and Liv Sandvik Jakobsen. This beautiful and inspiring, partly linen-bound book contains patterns for 27 sweaters, mostly cardigans with a few pullovers thrown in. There are patterns for adults and children as well as some background stories about designers, motifs, yarns and history. One of the great things about the book is that many of the sweaters are shown in several sizes, colours and different yarns.

It is in Norwegian, but as a knitter you’ll probably understand most terms and the photography is so clear that the sweaters can almost be knit by looking at the pictures alone. The authors’ website can be visited here, and the book can be found here on Ravelry.

The cardigan I’m making is called Lang Yndlingskofte, it is knit from the top down and has a yoke with bands of motifs in two colours. This is what it looks like in the book:

Question marks:

  • Knit a 5-stitch or a 7-stitch steek? – Answer: 5-stitch steek as per pattern
  • Shorten cardigan (considerably)?
  • Add pockets?
  • Buttons on entire front as in pattern or just on yoke?
  • Knit on facing to cover steek stitches or cover them with ribbon?

The yarn I’m using is CaMaRose ‘Økologisk Hverdagsuld’ (100% organic wool, 150m/164yds/50g).

The pattern gauge for the Yndlingskofte is 22 sts to 10cm/4”. My swatches gave: 22 sts on 3mm/US 2,5 needles and 20 sts on 3,5mm/US 4 needles. The 22-stitch swatch was spot-on, but it felt stiff and I decided to go with the looser 20-stitch gauge. This means that I’ll knit a smaller size that will hopefully turn out the right size for me at this gauge.

I’ve also washed and blocked the socks I wrote about in last week’s post. The yarn used for them is Lana Grossa ‘Landlust Die Sockenwolle’ (420m/460yds/100g) in shade 119, neutrals with bands in the rosy red of our ‘Lipstick’ roses.

The yarn doesn’t have a special starter thread to ensure that both socks turn out the same. Getting them exactly the same is a fun game.

The soundtrack to today’s post is Between the Showers – Irish harp music played by Gráinne Hambley. You can listen to some fragments here. I once attended a workshop led by her, and she told us her name is pronounced something like Gron-yuh (stress on first syllable).

Well, that’s all for today. I hope the weather (and life in general) is kind to you, and hope to see you again next week.

Halfway

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Hello! I hope this finds you all well. Here, after a very wet spring, we’re suddenly having a week of hot and dry weather. Personally, I prefer cool and rainy days, but it is summer after all. We’re halfway through the year, and I’m halfway through my current take-along project – my third Polka Dot Scarf.

I’ve given the other two away. This time I’ve chosen a colour nobody I know likes, so that I can keep it for myself.

I’m also halfway through a simple pair of socks and halfway through a bee-themed embroidery kit.

All enjoyable and relaxing projects, but I’m beginning to feel restless. I really need something more interesting and challenging alongside, but what? My problem is never a lack of ideas. I often have so many ideas that I feel overwhelmed and paralysed. Where do I go from here? Do you know that feeling?

So I do what I always do when I don’t know what to do – write about it. My thinking process is also helped by tea.

After making a long list of the things I’d like to make and considering the pros and cons of each, I have a lightbulb moment. Didn’t I have some kind of plan for 2024? Of course! Halfway through January I made a short list that was meant as a kind of map for the year.

One of the things on it that I haven’t done much about yet is Norwegian knitting. How could I forget about that? Some of you even gave me great ideas for Norwegian books to read, too! Never mind the hot weather, that’s just what I need. It feels good to know where I’m going again.

Last week I wrote that I’m trying to make my posts shorter, and I really won’t ramble on any longer, but I just have to show you where the pictures of the Polka Dot Scarf were taken. It was in a lovely out-of-the-way place, with a hidden, disused lock from the time peat was extracted here and transported to other parts of the country by boat.

Just follow the grassy path below and enjoy a moment of calm in this special place. Xxx

A Woolly Outing

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Hello! Today, I’m inviting you to join me on a little outing to do with Drenthe Heath sheep and their wool. Our destination is the Dwingelderveld National Park, a little over an hour’s cycling from our home. Below, you can see a felted(!) aerial view of the park, with purple heathland, green forest and paler felt for the surrounding open fields. The red arrow points to our destination – the visitor centre.

This is the little wooden yurt-shaped model of the building in its felt landscape:

And here it is in real life:

On this special day, the green-roofed visitor centre is surrounded by a small market. As the first visitor to arrive, I’m given the honour of starting the Wild Weaving project, using wool from the flock as well as twigs, grasses and other plant materials.

It’s a start, and I’m sure many hands big and small will add to the tapestry during the day.

Now, let’s take look round the market. There are several stalls with hand-knit items…

… and hand-spun yarn.

One stall with refurbished spinning wheels, and several with items made from felt, like these beautiful felt wall panels by Viltpracht.

And a stall showcasing all the natural colours of the Drenthe Heath sheep fleeces.

This stall holder (sorry, I don’t know her name or website) has an antique carding machine. It probably dates from around 1850. It is basically a wooden trough studded with big tines. Some of the tines can be seen at the front (red arrow).

The wool is fed in from where the person operating it sits. Holding the wooden handle, she rocks the wooden ‘swing’ back and forth over the trough, and the wool is untangled by the tines. It comes out of the carder as fluffy flakes.

The fibres can then be more finely carded and aligned in an ordinary drum carder. Very interesting.

Listen, can you hear them? The sheep are calling us with their baa-ing. Let’s go and pay them a visit – it’s just a short walk from here. Ah, there they are in the distance.

Instead of being out on the heath, doing their jobs as conservation grazers, they’re staying closer to home at this time of year because they have lambs. The longer we stand here quietly, not moving or talking, the closer they come. The ewes of this breed also have horns, only smaller ones than the rams.

Mmmm, sunshine, total quiet apart from the bleating, that special sheepy woolly smell, a soft breeze – bliss.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little outing. To close off, here are a few links:

  • The wool market was a one-day event only, but the visitor centre is open all year round.
  • Throughout 2024 there is an exhibition about the flock of Drenthe Heath sheep, and the felt aerial view of the Dwingelderveld National Park is always there, too.
  • Information about the 4 sheep folds in the area can be found here.
  • For those of you unable to visit in person, some of my older posts about this sheep breed can be read here, here and here.
  • And a short video by a cyclist unexpectedly finding herself surrounded by the flock can be watched here on YouTube.

Spring is in the Air

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Hello! I hope this finds you all well. From some of you in the US I’ve heard that you’ve had a thick blanket of snow recently and spring seems far away. Here, March has brought rain and hail storms as well as some milder days. Judging by the flowers and the birds spring is in the air. But judging by the cardigan I’ve just finished winter is around the corner. My knitting is sadly out of sync with the seasons again. Before going on to more spring-like things, let me tell you about it first.

This is the Air Cardigan from Finnish designer Suvi Simola, and the yarn I’ve used is Garnstudio Drops ‘Air’ in Crimson, a beautiful deep and warm red. It is long, oversized and very cosy. Size M is 86 cm (33¾”) long, with 64 cm (25½”) bust width.

The Air cardigan is knit from the top down and the sleeves are knit on. The only seaming to be done afterwards is the sides of the pocket linings. The pattern is very clear and has photo tutorials for several techniques. The one thing I didn’t like about it, is the stretchy bind-off used for the sleeve and body ribbings. Can you see how wavy the bottom is? I painstakingly unpicked it and re-did it using an ordinary bind-off.

What I do like a lot, are the decorative purl ridges on shoulders and upper back. This is where the knitting starts, with a narrow strip with short rows for shaping. From the purl ridges on either side of this strip stitches are picked up for fronts and back. Very nice!

All in all, a lovely design. It is knit on 5 mm (US 8) needles and should be a quick knit for someone who doesn’t have a dozen projects on the go simultaneously. Oh well, when the first chilly autumn days come, I’ll have a cosy cardigan ready and waiting.

And now – spring things!

It’s blossom time. And it’s also wood anemone time.

Wood anemones are not very common in these parts. They mainly grow in ancient woodlands and on historic country estates. Places where it is as if time has stood still and the rest of the world with all its woes and worries seems far away.

Where a distant wind turbine is the only sign of modern times.

In one of these dreamy wood anemone woods many white storks are nesting. When you see them out in the water meadows foraging for frogs and moles, you don’t hear them.

But from their nests their bill clattering can be heard far and wide.

In some places, the wood anemones grow together with wild garlic.

I wouldn’t dream of picking it here, but fortunately we also have a small patch of not-so-wild wild garlic in our garden. And that brings me to a recipe I’d like to share with you – Potato and veg frittata with Camembert and wild garlic (can also be made without wild garlic). Our young hens are so productive that we have of necessity become very creative with eggs. And then there are enough eggs left to feed many of our neighbours, too.

Potato and Veg Frittata with Camembert and Wild Garlic

(Serves 2-3)

Ingredients

  • 500 g potatoes
  • 2 tbsp olive or sunflower oil
  • 100 g green beans
  • 150 g broccoli
  • 100 g cherry tomatoes
  • 4 eggs
  • 50 ml milk
  • Salt & pepper
  • 100 g Camembert or similar
  • A small bunch of wild garlic leaves (if you don’t have access to wild garlic, just leave it off or use chives instead)

Method

  • Rinse the vegetables. Trim and halve the beans, divide the broccoli into small florets and cut the tomatoes in half.
  • Bring a pan of water to the boil. Add the green beans and broccoli, bring to the boil again and cook for 5 minutes. (If using frozen cook for 2 minutes.) Drain in a colander and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking process.
  • Peel and cube the potatoes. Heat the oil in a large frying pan and sauté the potatoes on medium heat for 10 minutes (until almost done).
  • Meanwhile beat the eggs in a bowl with the milk and plenty of seasoning, and cut the Camembert into wedges.
  • Add the tomatoes, green beans and broccoli, arranging the florets in a nice pattern if you like.
  • Pour over the egg mixture and place the Camembert wedges on top of everything.
  • Cover with a lid and leave to cook on low heat until the eggs are set (about 10-15 minutes).
  • Meanwhile rinse the wild garlic, pat dry and cut into strips.
  • Just before serving, sprinkle the wild garlic over the frittata.

Enjoy!

Vinterkongle and Vigdis

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Hello!
Besides finishing this year’s first Norwegian knitting project, I’ve also read this year’s first Norwegian novel. I’ll tell you about both today, and in between I’ll take you on a walk among pine trees. It’s a long post and it’ll have to last you for two weeks, because my mother in law is moving house next week and I probably won’t have much time to write then. Let’s start with some Norwegian knitting.

Vinterkonglegenser
The pullover I’ve knit for our grandson is called Vinterkonglegenser, Norwegian for Winter Pine Cone Pullover. It is knit from the top down, starting with a round yoke with a lovely pine cone design. It never ceases to amaze me what a difference blocking makes. While I’m knitting lace or colourwork, I often think, ‘Meh, it doesn’t look attractive at all.’ But I know everything will be all right after blocking.

Before blocking
After blocking

I didn’t use blocking wires or anything, so I’m not entirely sure I should call it blocking. What I did was soak the pullover in Eucalan for 20 minutes, spin-dry it and leave it to dry flat. Then I covered it with a clean, moist tea towel and hovered over it with the steam iron (on steam).

Instead of picking up underarm stitches, a few extra stitches are cast on, resulting in a hole that is closed later. Seaming it is a little more work, but makes for a nice and strong construction without any gaps.

For the stranded colourwork, I keep one thread in my left hand and the other in my right. And my floats are never longer than 5 stitches. Maybe someday I’ll learn to photograph or film both of my hands so that I can show you the techniques I use.

For our not quite 2-year-old grandson, I knit the size for 6-year-olds, only making the body a little shorter. It turned out exactly the right size for him – weird! I’ll  give you more info and links about the pattern and the knitting book it comes from at the end of the post. If you’re ever going to make anything from the book, do swatch and think carefully about the size you need to make first!

We brought the big pine cones in the pictures back from a summer holiday in France. They are from the maritime pines growing in the Mediterranean. Dutch pine cones are much smaller – here they are side by side.

Pine tree walk
The pine trees around here are European red pines – the kind you may call Scots or Schotch pine. I’ve read that they can live up to 700 years in Scandinavia. Ours were planted here in the early 20th century, mainly to provide wood for the mining industry. Fortunately they are now left to grow in peace.

Last Sunday we first heard and then saw a raven in the top of one. The picture below isn’t great, but you can see how its neck bulges and its head leans forward when it makes its deep ‘cronking’ sound.

I’m thrilled whenever I see or hear one of these huge black birds. Ravens were nearly extinct here a century ago and I’m so glad they are back.

Our walk also took us to a sheep fold. The sheep were out with the shepherd and there weren’t any lambs yet.

Ah well, another time. Did you notice the wreaths on the shutters in the picture above? They are made from wool from the flock. Aren’t they great?

The Story of Ljot and Vigdis
I can decipher a Norwegian knitting pattern, but reading a novel would take me a year so I’m glad there are translations. The short novel by Nobel Prize winner Sigrid Undset I’ve read has two main characters: Ljot and Vigdis. The original title is Fortaellingen om Viga-Ljot og Vigdis, where both get equal weight. It’s interesting to see that the Dutch publisher left rapist Ljot out of the title Vigdis Gunnarsdochter. And even more interesting is how the English publisher reduced strong and independant woman Vigdis to Gunnar’s Daughter in their (probably his) choice of title.

The story is set partly in Norway and partly in Iceland in the Middle Ages. At first glance it looks like a historical novel, but with themes like rape and other forms of violence, marriage problems and how children are affected by their parents’ traumas it could have been set in any place or age. What I liked about it is that nothing is black-and-white, and nobody is either all good or all bad.

Interesting for us, knitters and spinners, is how main character Vigdis is introduced: ‘By the hearth sat two women; one of them was spinning by the light of the fire; she was not very young and was darkly clad, but bright and fair of face. The other was but a young maid, who sat with her hands in her lap doing nothing.’

The young maid is Vigdis, and that she isn’t spinning immediately tells us that she is wealthy and probably spoilt. Spinning wasn’t a hobby back then, but essential for keeping people clad and warm.

Well, I’ll sign off now wishing you a good couple of weeks. Bye!

Links:

  • The pattern of the Vinterkonglegenser isn’t available through Ravelry, but some info and other people’s projects can be found here.
  • More about the knitting book the pattern comes from can be found in this blog post.
  • Some (but not nearly all) other patterns in the book can be viewed here.
  • Needles used: 2.5 and 3.0 mm (US 1½ and 2½ ).
  • Yarn: Sandnes ‘Tynn Merinoull’.

Colourwork Hats in the Snow

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Hello!

This week we’re having a wintry spell with sunshine, blue skies and even a sprinkling of snow. Such a relief after all the rain we’ve had. On the whole I’m fine with rainy days, but three months of them is a bit much even for me.

On a glorious frosty morning, before we set off for a walk, I popped the four colourwork hats I’d just finished into my backpack for a photo shoot. Before going into the actual hats, this is the yarn I used:

Four skeins of Rowan’s Felted Tweed in the shades Rage, Clay, Cinnamon and Black (from left to right). I like it when manufacturers give their shades names instead of just numbers. The pattern I used is the Colorwork Cap (here on Ravelry). Four skeins make four of these hats when a different shade is used as the main colour for each of them – very economical.

Three of the hats were knit as per pattern. For someone with a smaller head who likes her hats to be closer fitting I made the fourth one (with red as the main colour) shorter. Here they all are in a row in the snow.

The difference will become clearer when you see me wearing them. The original hat is fairly tall. It has a wide colourwork section and a crown with decreases in four places.

The smaller hat has the same ribbing and colourwork band, but decreases in six places and consequently fewer decrease rows.

Here are the two versions side by side – the black hat with decreases in four places and the red one with decreases in six (click on images to enlarge and take a closer look at the decreases). The red hat would have fitted more smoothly over the head if I’d left off part of the colourwork and spaced the decreases out over more rows, but I didn’t want to do that and am happy with the way it turned out.

The photographs were taken in an area with shifting sands that is officially called Aekingerzand, but we call de Kale Duinen (the Bare Dunes). As children this is where we went on our annual school outing, to play ball games and sunbathe on our beach towels. It was like a day on the coast minus the sea. Here is an impression of what it looks like on a winter’s day.

I hope you are keeping well and warm (or cool, for those of you in the Southern Hemisphere) and have had a good start to the new year. The four hats will soon be on their way to their new owners. One more project to finish and then it’s time for something new. I’m bursting with ideas and am looking forward to sharing them with you again this year.

A Foggy Walk

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Hello! Today, I’m taking you for a walk in De Wieden, a wetland area south-west of our home. We’ve had a lot of rain lately and also a smattering of snow, but on the day of our walk it’s foggy. The fog muffles all sound and blocks out most of the view. It’s dark, wet and grey.

How different this exact same spot looked on a sunny day in June.

De Wieden is part of the Wieden-Weerribben National Park, the largest lowland bog in north-west Europe. In spring and summer it’s so very beautiful here, with many different kinds of butterflies, damselflies and dragonflies, romantic waterlilies and cheerful orchids.

Now, the orchids have gone underground and only the leaves of the waterlilies are visible.

No damselflies are resting on reed stalks, no dragonflies are flitting across the water.

At this time of year, it’s beautiful here in a more subtle way. It’s a symphony of greens and browns.

There are some small pops of other colours – an orange fungus, a single red clover and the last of the marsh marigolds (click on images to enlarge).

But greens and browns predominate, with pale yellow-green marsh ferns among the greenest-of-green rushes.

Most of the reeds have already gone from green to sandy brown. Behind them, the blurry silhouette of a great white egret.

At the foot of the reeds, there’s a tunnel. Who made it? It’s far too wide for a mouse. Maybe the otters did. They hunt at the night and sleep in their hiding places on the reed banks during the day. Maybe there is one snoring away here right now.

In front of the reeds, there is the orangey, pinkish and blackish brown of the alder branches and their dripping wet male and female catkins.

It’s incredibly wet here today and I’m so glad I’m wearing wellies. It’s a good thing that it’s wet, though, because De Wieden has suffered from the recent hot and dry summers. Now the soil and the plants can drink their fill. Towards the end of our walk, the egret takes off.

It’s time for me to be off, too. Bye!

Oh, before I go, here is a clue to what I’ll be writing about next week if I can find the time. I wasn’t just here to take photographs, but also to be photographed… (Hint: Can you see what I’m wearing around my neck?)

Knitting and Walking

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Driving home through the dark from yet another get-together, with the windscreen wipers working furiously and strong gusts of wind buffeting the car, I suddenly thought, Enough! The past couple of weeks have been such fun, but now I need some rest and time alone. For me, knitting and walking are the best ways to rest and recharge. Sleeping helps too, obviously, but sleep can be elusive.

So, I’ve been knitting…

…knitting until a long scarf in a fine yarn was finished. Now it only needs blocking…

…casting on and making good progress on a pair of socks for a friend…

…and knitting on a simple stocking stitch poncho until it’s the size of a nice and warm lap blanket. It’s almost ready to be seamed and then I can knit on the cowl.

I’ve also been out for a walk every day. Taking my usual walks through our village, walks with our grandson, a walk in a foggy wetland, and a walk around the nearby village of Havelte. The real reason for my visit to Havelte was a tiny Advent market. There were only six stalls, but really nice ones with good quality toys…

…handmade purses and bags, hand carved wooden spoons, watercolour greeting cards, sustainable clothes for children and adults, and semiprecious stones and fossils.

I found several lovely gifts for our December celebrations and then went for a walk. Tourist websites call Havelte ‘The Pearl’ of our part of the country. To me, it’s an ordinary village for the most part, but it does have some lovely spots and beautiful old houses.

According to the weather forecast it was going to be dry and sunny. Only they forgot to mention the sudden downpours in between the dry and sunny spells. Oh my, such beautiful golden light against the threatening skies! I didn’t do anything to enhance this photo – this is exactly the way it was:

And here is a photograph that’s almost embarrassing. A windmill with a rainbow – can it get any cheesier? But again, this is exactly the way it was:

There were hardly any people about, but I did have eye contact with two four-legged villagers. A group of Drenthe Heath sheep crowding around a feeding rack had their backs turned to me.

But two sheep had finished eating and one of them was looking straight at me. Hello there, lovely creature.

And towards the end of my walk, a cat briefly looked up to see if I was to be trusted and then, apparently satisfied that I was, continued lapping up water from a puddle.

I’ll tell you more about the patterns, techniques and yarns used for the above knitting projects soon, when they are finished. I also have some more gift knitting planned, as well as a new pattern (or two) of my own. All in all, I hope to keep you provided with inspiration for the rest of the year and beyond, and also with a place to rest and recharge. Kalm an, hè?

The Story of the Drowned Village

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Hello! Today, I’m going to tell you a story. A story about a lake that wasn’t always a lake, a path that leads nowhere, and a drowned village.

‘Show, don’t tell,’ isn’t that what aspiring writers are always taught? Well, I’ll do better than that – I’ll show AND tell. Look, this is where we start – a narrow brick path, with old reed-roofed cottages on one side…

… and a flower garden and more tiny cottages on the other.

One of the cottages is now a tearoom. Maybe we can have a cuppa there later.

This used to be the path to the village of Beulake, but now it leads nowhere. Well, not quite nowhere – it ends at the water’s edge and brings us to the boat I’ve rented especially for us today. Please hop in. To get to the lake we need to negotiate a narrow canal first.

And here we are, on the Beulakerwijde – the lake that wasn’t always a lake. We’re not the only ones enjoying a lovely day out on the water.

It’s hot and sunny today, with a gentle breeze. Very different from that fateful day in November 1776, when rain and wind lashed the countryside.

Extensive peat extraction had made the area around Beulake vulnerable and a year earlier a heavy storm had broken the sea dykes in several places, flooded the land and driven away most of the inhabitants of the village. This time the storm was even worse. Fearing for their lives, the remaining 50 villagers fled to the church. They experienced the worst 36 hours of their lives, but survived to tell the tale. The village was drowned, however, and the entire area became a lake – the lake we’re on today.

The church disappeared in another storm, fifty years later, and… But wait, what’s that there in the distance?

It looks like, no, it can’t be, yes it is a… church tower???

A church tower complete with a bell and clockwork!

Well, actually it’s an artwork approximately in the spot where the original church of Beulake was. The small, uninhabited island behind it is called Kerkhof (church yard). It’s not hard to guess why.

The story of the drowned village of Beulake is the story behind one of the two versions of my Story Lines shawl.

The photographs were taken here, and I’ve been wanting to tell you the story behind it for a long time, but somehow never got round to it.

There is also a red version with ruffles along the edge, but the watery blue version ends with a row of droplets.

Well, it’s time to head back, along the reedbeds and water lilies.

We’re lucky – the tearoom is still open. Do you have time to stay a little longer? What would you like? Coffee, fresh mint tea, an alcohol-free beer? And carrot cake, a brownie or a slice of Dutch apple pie to go with it?

The Story Lines pattern can be found here on Ravelry and the blog post about both versions of the shawl here.

Our boat trip started from Natuurmonumenten visitor centre De Wieden. (Natuurmonumenten is the nature conservation organisation that protects and manages the beautiful and vulnerable wetland area of today’s story.)