Here's something we love: Hunter Hammersen's "quiet, everyday magic that's easy to overlook. But it's magic nonetheless." She is talking about her "Noteworthy" pattern for a little pouch that looks like a piece of paper because "paper is magic, and the right piece of paper can change the world." When Bootie knit this little gem, it brought her "a bit of happy distraction," and while that did not change the world, it did just what Hammersen promised: it made the world "a tiny bit more comfortable, for just one person, for just a moment. And that's a kind of magic too." This is the power of knitting to take us out of the present and into a timeless moment of making. Hammersen is right--look at the world through the frame of quiet, everyday magic, and you'll find all kinds of magic. And here's a bit of culinary magic: Strawberry Shortcake with a Lemon Curd Cream--an upgrade on the old family favorite that you just have to try.

We also found some magic in Anne Macdonald's account of women knitting in the 19th Century in No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting. While we tend not to think of the Victorian era as particularly "sporty," this was when women started riding bicycles, playing tennis, golf and croquet; they were literally moving more and their clothing had to change to keep up. So they ditched their shawls, corsets and hoopskirts for sweaters and bloomers. Some regarded these new fashions as "ugly and eccentric," but thankfully, they persevered. The specter of a woman knitting was an assurance of womanliness that Mrs. Clorinda Nichols appropriated as she "tended strictly to her knitting" while she "duped male legislators into underestimating her crusade for more liberal property rights for women" at Kansas's first state constitutional convention (p. 143). Brilliant. But in the midst of all this moving and change, many women still found in knitting the space for creative transformation, as author Jane Croly expressed it:

"The little work-tables of women's fingers, are the playgrounds of women's fancies, and their knitting needles are the fairy-wands by which they transform a whole room into a spirit isle of dreams."

Jane Croly on her "view of knitting serenity," quoted in Anne L. Macdonald, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting, p. 142.

So we hope we offer a little bit of quiet, everyday magic in this episode--it's not changing the world, we know, but if it makes you smile just once, or provides a bit of happy distraction, well, that's the kind of magic we aim to make.

Inquiring minds want to know: where is Napolean's penis these days? We will give you a hint: it's not with the rest of his body, but it's a cautionary tale for today's despots that we think should be more widely known. To be clear, the whereabouts of Napolean's penis is not discussed in Anne Macdonald's No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting, but many other fascinating historical tidbits are. We are now up to the Civil War, and guess what both sides, Union and Confederate, need the most? Yup, you guessed it: SOCKS. "'Send socks!' pleaded Civil War soldiers, and when their heartrending stories of bleeding, frostbitten and blistered feet reached 'the womenfolk,' there followed an unprecedented fever of sock-knitting 'for the boys'" (p. 97). The dearth of socks even inspired Albert M. Hubbard to compose "The Knitting Song: Dedicated to the Patriotic Ladies of the North," "a zesty tribute that quickly became a great favorite with choral groups at fairs and parlor sing-alongs and accounted for even further acceleration of knitting" (p. 102).

While the North had more resources and infrastructure thanks to the unfortunately named "United States Sanitary Commission," the women of South showed their devotion and ingenuity in other ways. Scarlet O'Hara's famous upcycling of the drawing room curtains into a dress had its roots in real events, and later made for great comedy on the Carol Burnett Show. And how can we not admire Lucy Nickolson Lindsay of Missouri for delivering vials of quinine and morphine hidden in the coiled locks of her hair and 22 pairs of socks tucked in the hems of her skirts to the frontline? Women on both sides sent notes to the troops in the socks and garments they made to inspire hope for better days:

Brave Sentry, on your lonely beat

May these blue stockings warm your feet

And when from wars and camps you part

May some fair knitter warm your heart."

Quoted in Anne L. Macdonald, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting, p. 105.

These are the tales from American history that warm our hearts! And if you want something tasty to warm your palate, may we suggest our recipe for roasted balsamic onions? A treat in salads or sandwiches--tune in and try it!

If George Washington knew about Debie Frable's Killer Sangria, he probably would have wanted A LOT of it to help him get through the Revolutionary War because boy, is this good stuff! Make it TODAY. But at the time, Washington really just wanted socks--he never had enough socks, as we learned from reading Anne L. Macdonald's No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting. As much as knitting and needlework have been dismissed as the stuff of “Pots and Pans,” as the “prankish students” at Yale referred to their social history class in the 1930s, Macdonald reminds us that local women bearing clothing and food to the naked, starving soldiers at Valley Forge literally saved the day:

“[T]here was no mistaking the joy of soldiers on the verge of open revolt when sentinels pacing the camp’s outer limits spotted an advancing cavalcade of ‘[t]en women in carts, each cart drawn by ten pairs of oxen, and bearing tons of meal and other supplies, [who] passed through the lines amid cheers that rent the air.’ Those devoted women . . . ‘preserved the army, and Independence from that day was assured.’”

Anne L. Macdonald, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting, pp. 36-7.

The value of everyday things--adequate food and clothing--should never be underestimated. Macdonald reminds us that the war for American independence was fought on two fronts, the political and the economic. The burden of weaponizing the economy through the boycott of British goods fell mainly to women who were charged with making their own or doing without. As one Mrs. Troupe recounted Martha Washington explaining, “Whilst our husbands and brothers are examples of patriotism, we must be patterns of industry” (p. 39). Townships—which really meant local women—were charged with clothing their troops or risk being fined. Even children were expected to knit or spin a certain amount every day before going out to play. Can you imagine?! “Finish that row, buddy, because George Washington needs those socks!”

As bad as we think it is now, we would not go back to those times, but reading about them reminds us of the sacrifices everyone—men, women and children—made in the fight for our nation’s political and economic independence. We owe it to them to preserve that. Enough said.