If you read the first part of this story, you will know that I cast on the Sophie Hood with considerable enthusiasm and a completely unreasonable combination of luxury yarns. Three strands held together. A MYak from New Zealand, a Cascade Alpaca Lace, and a Suri Alpaca Silk blend that has no business being as soft as it is.
What I did not mention in that post — because I did not know it yet — was that the weather was about to become a character in this story.
The Week the Weather Arrived
Since Monday, large parts of South Africa have been battered.
We had floods. We had winds that reached 73 knots. We watched trees fall. We watched a river come down and cover two terraces of this campground as though they had never existed. There is — or rather, was — a large tree next to our setup. It had bees living in the trunk and a worrying sway in the wind. They pulled it over with a tractor. My heart aches when a tree comes down, even a necessary one.
We have damage to our camp. Not catastrophic, but real. For several days the rain kept coming and there was nothing to be done about any of it except wait. Today is the first dry day, though the wind has not received that memo. Tomorrow we start rebuilding.
This is permanent camp life in South Africa. Most of the time it is beautiful beyond description. Occasionally it is 73 knots and a falling tree and a river where the terrace used to be.
What the Knitting Did
It did not fix the damage. It did not calm the wind or put the tree back or move the river.
But there is something in the act of making — the repetition of it, the small visible progress, the fact that your hands know exactly what to do even when everything outside is loud and uncertain — that holds you together while you wait for the storm to pass.
The Sophie Hood grew through the week. Row by row. Stitch by stitch. Quietly, unhurriedly, in the way that good knitting goes.
The First Hood is Finished
By the time the rain stopped, the first Sophie Hood was complete.
It is everything I hoped it would be. The three yarns together create a fabric that is impossibly soft and beautifully substantial — the kind of thing you put on and immediately feel more equipped for cold weather and difficult weeks. The Suri Alpaca gives it a gentle halo. The silk catches the light in a way that makes it look more precious than practical, which is a pleasing contradiction for something designed to be worn outdoors in a Western Cape winter.
The colour — that bright lime green from the MYak, carried through by the matching Cascade — is joyful in a way I did not entirely anticipate. I chose it because it reminded me of New Zealand. It turns out it also looks rather wonderful against a grey sky.
The Second Hood
Here is where it gets interesting.
After finishing the first hood, I had yarn remaining. Not a great deal — but enough. And the yarn is, as I may have mentioned, extraordinarily expensive. Wasting a single gram of it was simply not something I was prepared to do.
So there is a second Sophie Hood on the needles.
It is destined for someone who deserves something made with care and time and a frankly excessive amount of thought about yarn compatibility. She knows who she is. She does not know what is coming.
Some knitting is therapy. Some knitting is love. This particular week, it has been both at once — and I think that is exactly as it should be.
A Note on Craft and Hard Weeks
I have said before that I believe in slow living. In creating beauty intentionally, even when — especially when — life is not cooperating.
This week tested that belief in a practical way. When the wind is relentless and the river is where the terrace used to be and the tree is swaying, the philosophy of slow living is not an aesthetic. It is something you either reach for or you do not.
I reached for it. It looked like three strands of luxury yarn and a pattern by PetiteKnits and the quiet clicking of needles in a tent while the storm did what it needed to do outside.
It was enough.
The Sophie Hood pattern is by PetiteKnits. Part Three will follow when the second hood is finished — assuming the weather cooperates, which I am no longer taking for granted.
Lovely lovely Hilda. The wisdom, the gorgeous yarn, the story and yes the slow life make life worth while. Good luck with the weather and may you continue doing what you do best
💜
Ilona that hood looks absolutely scrumptious and it will remind you of those very bitter days we had looking at the devastation but could do nothing to stop it. I look outside my home at the damage I’ve had in my yard and adjoining closed in braai area, hold back the tears and say to myself “you are alive and not harmed” and walk away.
I love the colour of your hood, matches the South African summer newly mowed lawns, rich with a delicious fragrance.
My mom used to say that there is always something to be grateful for. So true.