Celtic Immersion

I will admit it: my name is Kate and I still have yet to character sketch. However, I've been making much progress on my novel research. Currently, I'm reading Mysterious Celtic Mythology in American Folklore by Bob Curran (as well as Barbara Kingsolver's new one, Flight Behavior, though it's not for novel research purposes). There's a very interesting chapter on how a bastard Welsh prince may have discovered America in the 1100s and left behind most of his crew to mate with the natives, whose offspring would become the Mandans. I'm not sure how factually likely it is that this actually occurred, but the book does posit some evidence for its possible truth. Either way, I find it fascinating. I was aware of viking ventures to the Americas well before Columbus but not of the fact that apparently fervent Celtic monks did likewise in an effort to expand knowledge of the word of God. While I don't plan on making the house in the novel the ancestral home of Madoc the Welsh Prince, I'm quite enjoying the book, even if none of what's in it has real impact on my book (though I'm hoping it does).

The house sketches have taken a slightly different turn as well. We have been looking at another house. It could be aptly described as a Victorian era manor. It doesn't have the exterior filagree of a Victorian, but it definitely is a very subtle (some might say plain) version of that style and time-period. I would call it a Victorial era farm house except that it is twice the size of most farm houses. I've been happily sketching rough blueprints of the house, which needs some work, including being transitioned from a two family back to a one.

(Here's a sketch. It's not the clearest of photos, but it gives an idea of the setup: 

basement on the bottom, main floor in the middle, and second story on the top.)

While sketching, it occured to me that it would be far more intuitive to use the blueprint of a house already in existence for the novel, rather than a house completely created in my head. I believe it will become the bones over which I create the house for my novel. I want to base my supernatural elements on actual folklore, so using the floor-plan of an actual house should help keep the story grounded in some foundational way.

Stained Glass

In my immediate future, there was going to be a house, and not just any house but a house that is so perfect that if I won the lottery, I would keep it as my primary residence. Admittedly, if I won the lottery, I would probably invest in a second residence with a lake-front view, a private beach, and hand-carved banisters like those found at the mansion in "Don't Be Afraid of the Dark" but I digress. Yes, I have been house hunting for so many months now that I've lost count, but we didn't find the right house until this house.

This house has stained glass windows in almost every room, hand-crafted by the previous owner, who was, obviously, a stained-glass artist. It has a a wood-adorned walk-out basement with a functioning wood fireplace that has a full-scale stone mantel. It has a farm house, this-is-your-grandma's kitchen complete with pantry large enough for a built-in pot rack. The basement floor of the back of the house is adorned with glass-tile mosiac. the two car garage has a giant bonus room behind it that has a seperate entrance and a stain-glass light hanging from the ceiling. There's a stocked fish pond next to the creek out back that borders the almost acre of land in the downtown area of a small rural village. I loved this house.

Of course, then we found out that this house also has a defective electrical box, a crumbling cement ceiling in the basement workroom, a sinking foundation on the addition, faulty wiring, a bonus room not connected to the heating system, and poor roof construction that depletes the life of shingles by a good 20 years at least. Then, we found out there was a slight radon problem and that in our haste to purchase the perfect house, we overpaid by a good 10 thousand. In light of all of this, sadly, I gave up the house.

Because the previous owner, whose husband created all that stained glass, experienced quite a bit of emotional hardship in deciding to sell us the house, I made a plan to take a close-up photo of one of the windows in the house. From that photo, I wanted create a pattern for a lap blanket that I could finish and give to the previous owner of the house at closing. However, as we aren't buying the house, that is no longer necessary.

Even so, the glass that dazzled me, made me consider months of house construction, stays with me now and I wonder, how beautiful would a handknit inspired by stained glass be? I might just give this a try.

With that thought in mind, I do have a blanket I'm supposed to complete. My brother has been whining for a blanket since I gifted him a knitted beanie for Christmas. I want to give him the promise of that blanket as part of his Christmas present (but don't tell). It will be U of M inspired, but I'm now thinking perhaps it should be stained glass inspired as well. Either way, I'm definitely using this stained glass theme on at least one future knitted creation. If not the Michigan blanket, something.