On Christmas day, 1899, my great-grandmother Lelia Rieth was given a book of poetry by her father. It's a beautiful volume: the cover brown and textured, the title and spine embossed with flourishes, the edges of each page leafed in gold. My grandfather passed it on to me on my twelfth birthday, my name inscribed in his blocky engineer's handwriting below Lelia's. The dates between us spanning an entire century.
I never met my great-grandmother, but through that book and through stories of her life, I felt like I knew her. Even her name sounded singularly beautiful to me, not only because of its pleasing cadence, but also because of the strength of the person she was: her creative spirit, her resilience, her optimism.
Lelia, abandoned by her husband to raise her children alone during the Great Depression. Lelia, mother of two boys who went to war, and only one who came back. And yet, still: Lelia who sang opera. Lelia who painted. Lelia, who kept a book of Longfellow given to her by her Papa for her whole life.
Lelia, who looked at the world through eyes the color of mine.
And so, these are for her.
The pattern is available for download for $5.00, or you can check out the details on Ravelry on the Lelia pattern page.
Big thanks to my test knitter and tech editor, and to everyone who has shared their kind words about this design both in person and online. This one has been in my noggin for a long time, and I'm so happy to be able to share it with you! <3
Happy Friday, friends!