And the winners are…
I’ve spent a good part of the afternoon reading these colorway names stories and trying to decide on a winner. And you know what?
I can’t. I just can’t pick one.
I love them all equally.
I love that the six of you took the time to write these creatively wonderful tales of hue. I love how they made us all laugh with delight. So…I might not be the boss of much, but I am the boss of this little contest. I say you are all winners!!! Yay!! Which means I will make a colorway for each of you.
Here is how I would like that to work. (Still riding the~I am the boss of this.~ wave.)
What I need from each of you is going to involve a little more writing. Obviously, as evidenced in your winning stories, you are up to the challenge. What I would like you to write for me is your own personal color story so I can then make it into a colorway for you. Please be descriptive and not too poetically vague. If the colors of the sea are what floats your boat (pun intented) then tell me all about the hows and whys it floats it. Does it float it on a clear day when the sun is dipping below the horizon setting both the sky and sea ablaze in orange light or maybe you are more of a dark and stormy grey seas kind of person. This is what I need to know. The more descriptive you are the more I have to go on. If you love browns because they remind you of when you were a little tyke sitting in your grandfather’s lap for story-time and he was wearing his favorite golden tweed blazer smoking form his mahogany pipe while reading to you about Gulliver’s Travels and cozily sitting in an overstuffed rust red leather chair. You can also add in how it makes you feel.
( Get it?)
I would also like you to give your colorway story a name. I will then put that name to the colorway I create for you based on your story. So choose something you like and that is not too long. Other wise Paula will be mad at me ( because it has to fit on a skein tag) and well, we don’t want that.
Sound good? Doable?
Let’s keep this little color game of ours going on in the comments so everyone can share in the fun . So go ahead and put your personal colorway story in the comments of this post and congratulations:
Artemis06
RiverPoet
SantaFeLil
PurlGirl
Janis
SadieSue
You all did a wonderful job!
I hope everyone is staying cool in this wave of heat we have going!
Comments are closed.
Wow, thank you Tina!
I feel so privileged and honoured to have this opportunity to name a colour way!
This is my colour story :)…
‘Galactic Broccoli’
I have always loved multicoloured hues, I am always drawn to them. I can never leave them alone! I blame my grandmother, in a good way you understand!…
As far as I can remember it I all started with my relationship with greens and a visit to my grandmother’s house. I am talking about the kind of greens you eat or in my case the ones you would prefer not to eat! Give me any other veg as long as it wasn’t green!
My mum didn’t make a big fuss about it but always made sure that they were on offer most meal times. So much so that she must have mentioned my food preferences and the ‘greens’ thing prior to the visit!
I loved visiting my grandmother.
She taught me to knit so there was always something to do! I would be knitting while she flitted around the house doing her thing, cooking and baking, popping back to check on my progress every now and again showing me how to pick up dropped stitches and suchlike.
I loved the way her house smelled. There was always something on the go, always a grandma house smell…boiling bones for the dog, breakfast kippers or mutton stew! They were not unpleasant to me just grandma’s house smells!
Throughout my stay she cooked some amazing homely fare, but always with, yes you’ve guessed it, the dreaded greens in all sorts of unsuccessful guises until one particularly memorable occasion!
She called me to the table for dinner one evening reminding me to wash my hands as usual. Hands washed (not) I entered the room and there on the table was a majestic silver platter with matching serving spoon, laden with what I know now to be broccoli florets that had been lovingly prepared and dyed with a rainbow of food colours!
Having never seen the likes of it before (not even in its unadulterated state and in my innocence) I tucked in, it looked and tasted out of this world!
So thank you grandma for introducing me to broccoli and thereafter not being afraid to eat my greens!
I give you Galactic Broccoli.
Reminiscing has brought back such vivid memories of my grandmother! Greens that are out of this world sprinkled with a bit of rainbow magic!
Thanks Tina for triggering this trip down memory lane!
Omission!
In my haste and excitement to post my colour story I did not see that I had somehow edited out some super vital info! Sorry 🙁
This is how it should have gone…a rainbow of food colours! (cont.)… It looked like it had been sprinkled with stardust! Splitched and splotched all over with multicoloured blooms like little interstellar explosions!…Cont. as written!
I Hope this is OK? I did proof read it a million times before hitting submit but did not see the omission until today! Thanks 🙂
Bubble Bliss
Many summers as a child my family would travel to my Grandmothers’ home for vacation. It was great beacause I would get to play with all my cousins whom I had not seen for a year. My Grandmothers’ yard had most notably and memorably: Lilac bushes loaded with lilacs which would fill vases and, oftentimes come home with us. A sunlit grey/pink Boulder with patches of mint green lichen from which we could leap like mountain lions. A great shade tree under which we would often sit on soft green moss covered rocks and eat our penny candy for an afternoon treat.
My cousins and I were allowed to go down the street to the General Store and buy penny candy or Dixie Cups for a treat. The selection of penny candy was dizzying. There were Hot Balls and Bubble Gum. I am pretty sure the Bubble Gum came wrapped with a comic strip inside. So many candies to choose from. Just beyond the General Store was the old Textile Mill. As it was built right next to the river, it had a huge Water Wheel. The Water Wheel still turned at that time. It was all part of the happiness of my summer vacation with my cousins.
My favorite thing, though, was the jars of soap bubbles and the plastic wands. The bubbles were translucent and silvery as they floated on air, up and away. As they glistened in the sunlight you could see soft rainbow colors reflected on them. How we loved to run, our arms extended with a wand in each hand, leaving trails of bubbles behind us. Or spin fast, stopping quickly to see bubbles floating around us. How we would laugh. It was such great fun for us. It was just bubble bliss!
A happy memory nearly forgotten. Thank you, Tina, for a chance to tell a color story.
English Garden
I lived in England for six years when I was in my twenties, and both my daughters were born there. It’s a very different place to live. Things move at a more relaxed pace. Villages are small, and full of riotous color, because every home has a garden. Never a “yard” but a garden.
Think Monet. Think Renoir. They were French, yes, but the Impressionist palette was very much that of the gardens I saw daily. Against a background of deep green, flowers upon flowers in pinks, lavenders, and pale blues, often drenched in misty rain and dew.
I have a black thumb. I’m lucky to keep a pot of my favorite pansies or violets alive. But when I think of the time in my life when I was a young mother, watching my two little girls blossom and grow, I always see them toddling, then running, against the background of all those lovely pastel flowers. For me, they are the colors of peacefulness, youth and joy.
Tina, this was such a fun contest. Thank you so much for making us all winners. I have two titles for my story and I simply cannot decide on one. Will you and your staff please choose the one you think fits the story best, many thanks!
Blue kaleidoscope or Tangled Up In Blue
Blue—-Blue is my hue
The faded blue of the overstuffed rocker where, as a child, I sat on my father’ lap while he read me books and I saw pictures in my mind.
Blue eyes belonging to Irish/English parents(no longer of this earth) that gazed at their only child with love.
Cat eyes of sapphire belonging to my adored Siamese.
Puppy eyes, the turquoise blue eyes of my Weimaraner puppies before they morphed into Midas gold.
Lying on a blanket under a clear, blue sky, while I watched fluffy, white clouds drift along with stories inside them
The inky blue, velvet sky at night, visible from my attic bedroom window, with sparkling diamond stars, and, close enough to touch, fireflies blinking Morse codes of love to each other.
I am a Scorpio, a water sign, blue oceans, irredescent, Carribean seas and the sleepy, clear blue white creek on my Grandparents farm, where summer wading was such a delight.
The blue of my wedding dress, a long peasant embroidered frock worn by a girl on a mountain top, close to God in his blue heaven.
Later a baby—blue for a boy and the blue eyes of generations looking back at me.
Oh my goodness! I just saw this. I had trouble logging in and finally got my password reset.
My yarn would be named “Stress Free & Feelin Good”.
I have always loved listening to water. Whether it is simply flowing over pebbles in a stream or waves rolling into shore, water has always had a calming affect on me.
When I was a kid my father kept a boat docked on the Detroit River. I used to love to sit up on the bow with my feet hanging over the side so I could feel the first sprays of water coming at us. Almost every Sunday we went out on the boat. Sometimes we went over to Canada for a special dinner or to the Bob-Lo Island Amusement park. Other times we went fishing. I was never able to put the worm on the hook or take the fish off, but that’s what my sister Luanne was good at so she always helped me. I didn’t really care so much for the fishing, I just wanted to go out in the boat and be on the water.
Whenever I have trouble falling asleep, I imagine myself lying on a beach listening to the waves rolling in. In my mind there are always birds chirping as well. My husband recently finished putting a pond in our backyard so I can relax with my knitting while listening to the pond fountain. It sounds just like a babbling brook. I love it!
I quit working 18 months ago because of the extreme amount of stress I was under. My doctor’s advise was to do whatever I could to live more of a stress free life. After taking leave for five weeks, I knew I would be much happier if I quit work and concentrated on my health. The past 18 months have been great. I couldn’t have quit without a very understanding husband who spoils me rotten.
I chose Stress Free & Feeling Good because that’s what I am now. The colors I see are the various colors of water; the ocean, the sea, a creek or a river, along with some sand, a blue sky and maybe a fluffy white cloud. They all make me instantly relax. Just close your eyes, imagine you’re lying on a beach with gentle breeze, while listening to the waves roll in. Relaxing, right?
All I need is a lounge chair, my knitting and the sound of water and I’m good.
Thank you for choosing everyone as winners. You are a generous lady and I’m glad to know you, even if only virtually.
Lillian
SantaFeLil on RAVELRY
Back from much traveling (spinning ‘camp’ and family visits) to discover this – what fun!
Lost Valley
I’m also a water person, but another large part of my life has been spent running trails. One of my favorite things to do is to head out on a particular trail (Lost Valley) in spring. The trees are just starting to leaf out, and the buds are a bright green against the darker brown bark. Blooming dogwood trees glow white in the forest, and redbud trees punctuate the hillsides with bursts of dark pink. The canopy is still fairly open, and sunlight streams down. The trail itself is a mix of brown-gray dirt and lighter limestone rock, edged with wild grasses just beginning to grow. The trail winds up and down and in and around. There used to be a community there, long ago… old homestead plots are given away by non-native plants: a cluster of naturalized daffodils here, ancient century plants there, fancy irises where no irises should be. A rusted railing, half-fallen, surrounds the weathered granite headstones in a forgotten cemetery.
I’ve run trails on both coasts, and plenty in between… from the mossy volcanic rock along side the Mackenzie River trail in Oregon, to the groomed carriage roads of Acadia National Park, each one has its own personality. The sounds of civilization fade away, and are replaced by wind through leaves, the soft gurgle of water flowing down from a hidden spring, lilting birdsong. Meandering along a trail is restorative for the soul, and is a reminder of the miraculous variations in nature. The same trail is never the same… there is always something new to see and hear.
— Tracey aka RiverPoet