In 1968 I parents bought a "trailer" I remember it was blue and it was a "Van Dyke", lots of paneling, ugly green carpeting and weird looking cabinetry. Back in those days they were sold to home buyers as a home that you could take with you, change locations but not your home. Yea, didn't work so well though. The trailer was moved from its place of manufacture to the lot, from the lot to the Neah Bay, WA Coast Guard station lot; to the La Push, WA Coast Guard station property, then the "Thunderbird Trailer Park" in Puyallup, WA. The last move was to the "Sportsman Trailer Park" in Newport, OR. That was the trailer's last move. Those things really weren't meant to move every 9 months to 2 years as ours did. The entire front face where the tow truck attached was tearing away from the body. My parents sold it where it sat and from what I understand our trailer entered the era that its inhabitants would be forever be known as "trailer trash".
In the 80's they became mobile homes, nicer but still destined for the shameful moniker 20-30 years later. Now I live in a manufactured home, basically the same thing but they cost buckets more and the chances of it ever being mistaken for a trailer non-existent. LOL
2011 and I'm dragging out those memories of Barbara and trailers. Weird. Anyway, Barbara painted a beautiful picture for my mother that to this day hangs in my parents home. She also made my mother a gorgeous pink shawl. When I was a teen I loved that shawl and on special occasions my mother would let me use it. The 70's was a time for ponchos and trust me I had more than a few, although my mother always had the luck of finding the ugliest damn thing for me and I just had to have a poncho so I settled. But that shawl was something I imagined wearing all the time. Back then it had a sparkle to it, it was magical, I swear. It would always turn the head of that special boy (Was I daft? Why would a guy care about a pink shawl? LOL) and the other girls would beg me to tell them which high end department store I found it in, which I would then look down upon their begging faces and with a toss of my head tell them in the voice of Tallulah Bankhead, "Dahling, this is a one of kind, you won't find it in one of your droll department stores." Wow, I was a strange kid.
As I gained more confidence in my knitting I thought of that beautiful shawl and so wanted to knit one just like it with colors and fiber of my choosing 40 years later. Finally, while visiting my parents I remembered to ask about the shawl and lo I even had my camera with me since my sister was visiting from Texas for the first time in 10 years. When my mother brought the shawl out for me to snap pics of I was stunned. All these years I thought it was knitted, but no, it's CROCHETED!! I hate crochet, I'm terrible at crochet and crochet brings back bad memories of granny squares as well as a hideous pink vest that still haunts me because my panels were so wonky that I couldn't sew them together, the differences between the right and left was about 8 inches!
Quietly I laid out the shawl to take pictures, my mind racing, there must be some way I can knit this pattern, I think to myself. But I'm crushed, crocheted not knitted! So I need to figure out how to knit this, I think I can figure a way, what do you think?