Entwife Harvest Cloak by Michele DuNaier

Entwife Harvest Cloak

Crochet
October 2014
Light Fingering ?
21 stitches = 4 inches
in dc using a G (4mm) hook
1300 yards (1189 m)
Model shown is 31" deep, 64" across top edge; can be made smaller or larger.
US
English
This pattern is available for $5.00 USD buy it now

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Oh, those wandering Entwives! Why did they ever have to leave home???

Somehow every Fall I get the urge to make them a shawl…

I used fingering weight yarn in a variety of colors, and intentionally made a generous shawl this time. However, it can be made smaller or larger, as desired.

I will host a CAL in my group MAD Cap Fans and will be glad to advise on the different sizing options. So grab some Autumnal colors and join us!

BITTER HARVEST
(Entwife’s regret)

The summer sun has warmed the earth, the clouds have quenched the thirst
Of hungry seedlings - high they stretched then into flower burst.
I have tended all my rows, and brought these seeds to harvest
And look with pride upon the richness of my autumn garden.

But then the memories return, and take me back in time
Back when Middle Earth was young, back when you were mine.
The world was very different then, as were you and I,
Foolish Entings pledging love ‘neath drifting summer skies.

It seemed we’d always have the space and all the time to dream
To walk together through the woods, glorying in streams
Of bubbling laughter, careless kisses, sweet love unrestrained,
And you and I would never age and life would never change.

But many years ago that was, and we could not agree;
I left to plant my garden here, far distant from the trees.
Yet sometimes when I think back to that day I went away
I wish I could see you once more and change my mind and stay.

Then we would walk together still, through fields of dawning dew,
And you would still be mine to hold and love would be as new,
And we would sleep beside the trees as green leaves swayed above,
And I would whisper tenderly to you, my Enting Love.

But now the wind shrieks down the hills, sharp fingers pull my cloak,
I wrap it tight, and hide regrets, and hurtful memories choke.
Just as the seedling grew so tall, it surely now must die,
And as another winter comes, I bid my garden goodbye.