The first sweater I made for Ava was inspired by this project on ravelry. It's foundation was the Offset Wraplan by Sara Morris. The cabled owl pattern (hard to see, since in my I'm-the-mother-of-a-newborn frenzy I never did affix those tiny buttons for its eyes) came from a Penny Straker baby owl and bonnet pattern I ordered online.
Months later while looking through my own baby pictures I came upon this classic:
I'd seen this picture so many times before I almost blew passed it. But as I was about to move on I looked a bit closer and gasped. That pink sweater, knit by my grandmother, was the exact sweater from the Penny Straker pattern I'd ordered, and the owlets were the same ones I'd inserted into Ava's sweater! I thought this was an amazing and very touching coincidence. Excited, I called Grammy, perhaps the only other person I know who would get as excited about this as I was. Unfortunately, my mama didn't know where that sweater I wore in the picture had ended up - hopefully handed down and on the back of a little tot somewhere. So, as you can imagine if you've read my previous post on Grammy the prolific knitter, she had to complete the trilogy by churning out her own version of the Straker owl sweater in a matter of weeks.
A hand knit sweater - hand knit anything, really - is a precious thing. You put your love and thoughts of the person who will wear it into every stitch. These sweaters, knit from a pattern passed down through three generations, embody even more - a richness and connection between mothers and their daughters across time. I love that this pattern became an unwitting heirloom, made new with each generation's take on it. What treasure from the past have you transformed to reflect your current vision, while maintaining its connection to those who touched it before?