This is so weird. On Friday, Bob and I took a ferry ride and had a little picnic. It was our 10th wedding anniversary and we were revisiting the site where we said our I Do’s.
It was a beautiful day — only slightly less beautiful than our wedding day, which was a miraculously clear and blue and warm and dry moment in the midst of torrential rain. It was a very casual wedding — about 30 friends and family members at a picnic site on Angel Island. I did all the food and flowers (with assistance from a few loved ones, of course) and my dress was just a little sleeveless white cotton shift I got at The Gap. When the park bathroom turned out to be full of Girl Scouts and mud, a couple of people held up a tablecloth at the far end of the picnic site so I could change into my dress behind it. To fend off the bay breeze, I had brought an ivory pashmina sort of thing, which I’d ordered from the late lamented Martha By Mail catalog, but I wound up not needing it.
At some point on our outing on Friday, the thought entered my mind that if we were doing this now, I’d have knitted myself a shawl. But what would it have looked like? I’m not really a lace shawl kind of girl, but it also wouldn’t be the chunky tobacco-colored number I’ve been knitting for myself this weekend either. No, it would be something exactly in between.
So then I’m sitting on my couch on Sunday night attempting to catch up with the Internet, and what should pop up at the Purl Bee but this new pattern, the Whisper Wrap, designed by Whitney Van Nes. It’s just what I would have wanted.
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