My evening walk yesterday was as perfect as perfect can be--temperature in the 20s C (mid 70s F), no wind at all, the lake glassy. Even the mayflies co-operated, lingering only in a few clouds out of my path.
It was the sort of walk that leads to contemplation, and last evening my thoughts were all about scale. This might have been because I'm working on a design with chunky yarn. There's something about seed stitch and cables in chunky yarn that I adore. If the yarn is tweedy, so much the better.
My train of thought was triggered, as it often is, by the built landscape around me. On Gore Street, I passed one of my favourite little houses in the historic section of Kingston, this little gem, with its perfect little path bordered by tiny flowers.
This is a really tiny house, probably with no more than two bedrooms, but everything about it is exquisite and cut down to scale,
even the little tree by the front door.
Further on up the street I passed a tall mature tree with a careful arrangement of low-growing plants about its roots.
Each of these small plants is smaller than the breadth of my hand. Can't wait to see how it grows over the coming months.
At the corner of Welllington Street, I came across an example of large-scale cleverness.
This old house has enormous, beautiful windows. The tall, formal planter in the front is a perfect echo of the tall window behind it.
Around the corner and across Wellington Street, someone has a sense of drama.
Four large pots brimming with knock-your-socks-off red geraniums add punch to an otherwise drab brick walk.
All of this served to clarify my thoughts regarding the tweedy, chunky jacket I'm working on. A couple of days ago I worked on a cable swatch for the sleeves. I started off with an 8-stitch cable, but soon realized that the scale of the yarn demanded a 12-stitch one. You'll have to wait to see that.