This will hurt me...

Who's that knocking at my succulent? The bakyard, Geilston Bay. August 2012. Could this possibly be the return of the ...[shudder]... TERRORGNOME ? The Young Housewife , William Carlos Williams At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband's house. I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands shy, uncorseted, tucking in stray ends of hair, and I compare her to a fallen leaf. The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.

Guerilla knitting, turn that shit up. King Street, Sandy Bay. September 2011. The murkey world of yarn-inspired terrorism is troubling to me. Like a lot of forms of 'new terror', it's the incoherent political message and ideological goal that worries me. With no rational purpose, how might we ever conclude peaceful terms with these brigands? The Lamentations Of An Icarus , Charles Baudelaire The lovers of prostitutes are Happy, cheerful, well-fed; As for me, my arms are broken Through having hugged the clouds. It is thanks to the incomparable stars, Blazing in the depths of the sky, That my devoured eyes see only The memories of suns. In vain I wished to find The centre and the end of space; I know not under what fiery eye I feel my wings breaking; And burnt up by love of beauty, I shall not have the splendid honour Of giving my name to the abyss Which will serve as my grave.

It turns out, when push comes to shove and the car lays broken down on the top of a mountain, Ezra is of as little use as his father in matters automotive.

On June 21, 2008, I alerted the world to an outbreak of guerilla knitting . After a period without any action in this war on wool synthetic rubbish , the textile terrorists have STRUCK AGAIN! All that I can say is "who are these people?" and "why do they hate our freedom bike racks?" In celebration of the theme, today's entry into the rolling Saturday Festival of *someone else's* Poetry is probably my favourite poem about knitting (a long list indeed). Grey Knitting , Katherine Hale ALL through the country, in the autumn stillness, A web of grey spreads strangely, rim to rim; And you may hear the sound of knitting needles, Incessant, gentle,–dim. A tiny click of little wooden needles, Elfin amid the gianthood of war; Whispers of women, tireless and patient, Who weave the web afar. Whispers of women, tireless and patient– 'Foolish, inadequate!' we hear you say; 'Grey wool on fields of hell is out of fashion,' And yet we weave th...

No Jen is not torturing the poor little mite with knitting needles in his head, she's knitting him a hat! Yet before you go and finish knitting that hat, it pays to check that the size is right. Thus we have a baby on the bed grasping circular needles while his father callously photographs him. It is indeed a cruel world.

Continuing the series that some very aggressive knitting enthusiasts frightened me into offering, a five day old Ez makes an appearance in the what I am told is a Clementine's Shoes Kimono and a little beanie that she appears able to turn out in less than a day. This one has drawn plenty of positive comments from random strangers (you know, the drooling imbeciles who try and grab your week old baby in the supermarket), as well as some more polite people. If you wish, the very nice folks at Clementine's Shoes have posted the free pattern for the kimono online , and I am told that it is knitted in Grignasco Bambi . This is a type of material which may or may not be made from wool cultivated from a freakish deer/sheep/alpaca hybrid. Now, bear in mind that Jen has altered the pattern somewhat, in a way that I do not understand nor appreciate. I think that it involves the border or edging, but I will be honest with you, I tend to fade out of conversations about knitting as quickl...

Here is a clearly flushed and embarressed Henry modelling the "Kittyville hat" that Jen made him sometime ago. If you like, I can point you in the direction of the pattern, just ask in the comments and I will find it for you.

Some time ago you may remember that I reported on this blog on some rumours that had been heard around the traps of a nascent organisation that fancied themselves as exponents of a new form of the arts and crafts: guerrilla knitting. Well, one can imagine my surprise to find the following story in today's edition of The Mercury (locally known as The Mockery, the multiple errors in a short colour piece may explain why). As is my want, I have decided to quote liberally from the story titled Woollies warm frozen figures . The intrepid journalist reports: IT seems this week's cold snap has even forced statues around Hobart to pull on their winter woollies. Mystery surrounds the appearance of hand-knitted attire on the Heading South statues, on the waterfront near Mures restaurant. The statue [sic] is a [sic] official tribute to the historic links between the port of Hobart and the Southern Ocean. The knitwear includes, a dog coat, leg-warmers and a scarf, in purples, reds, greens...

I have had an extraordinarily busy day today, so I've had to dig into the grab bag of pictures and fished out this summer shot of a creature slowly moving across our backyard. Somehow Jen conjured up this varmint out of a couple of balls of wool. Unfortunately, she'll have to be punished for such witchcraft. UPDATE If you have clicked on the comments, you will note that Jen has posted a link to the pattern for this turtle. I thought that it might be best to bring this into the post itself. So, as my lovely and talented wife has pointed out, anyone interested in knitting their own turtle can find the free pattern here !

Today’s photo is a little different in that I am in front of the camera instead of behind it. This was taken by Jen at lunchtime yesterday, as Henry and I stalked some seagulls on the lawns opposite work. The visit from the home team was a mysterious one, as moves are afoot to dabble in a bit of guerrilla knitting. It may or may not have something to do with the upcoming World Wide Knit in Public Day . The end result was that I got a break from work to play with the footy, chase seagulls and spend some time with Henry while his mother and another furtive figure went off photographing and measuring things for some unknown reason. I shall let you know when I know what that’s all about. Tasmanian knitters can find out more at this website .