handstories

mucking about

    There is a jar that lives on the front porch.  It started with some chunks of rust and elderberry leaves.  Over time onion water, old tea and walnut husks were added.  It is murky and stinky, with who-knows-what growing on top.  Now and then I notice it among the baseball shoes, mitts,  pots, and buckets, and throw in some scrap of fabric.  I remembered the last batch yesterday and hung them out to dry.

    Using one of Jude's methods for putting bits together, just messing around, and loving the rhythm. 

     A friend stopped by while I sat in the front yard working on this . . . "What are you making?"  "I have no idea, I'm just making."  Happily.

    P.S.  This tree, that is in the background of the first photo, I love this tree.  Shading our house from the sun, it lives in the fence between us and our neighbors, who are about fifteen feet to the south.  This spot where our neighbors live has been occupied by several people in the twenty years we have lived here.  Most of them owned black pick-up trucks (not a judgement, just an interesting coincidence) and a few were part of bands which practiced often in their basement.  There was one incident when police were called for domestic violence, and the last renter went off his medication until friends intervened.  At this point the house was no longer rentable.  

    The owner knocked on my door one day.  "Have you ever thought about getting rid of that tree?"

    "NO!  I love that tree!  It's a great tree!  Are you kidding?!?"

    A battle began, calls to the city, threats to build a monstrosity that would leave no room for anything green.  When those plans failed, he tried to sell the property to developers, he claimed that they would build three story town houses.  

    Finally, friends of a friend bought the property and built a small modern simple home.  They are lovely, kind, generous, and artistic (he's a carpenter & paints, she designs swimwear and clothing).  

    We love having them for neighbors, all thanks to that tree.

living the dream

    Moon studied the state of Washington at school this year.  After writing a report on the Grand Coulee Dam, he got it in his head that he needed to go see it.  He wanted to see if all the things he read in the books and heard in Woody Guthrie's song ("Roll On Columbia") were true?  

    So, off we went.  It is four hours from Seattle (not including the stops for scenic vistas, food, wild horse statues, and ice cream).   

    And there it was . . . mighty and grand!  A mile long, containing enough concrete to make a sidewalk four feet wide and four inches thick that would circle the earth twice.

    Moon sat down and stared.  He couldn't believe he was there.

    The visitor center was full of all kinds of memories from the making of it.  Including the jugs that held water from all of the states that fifty Apple Blossom Princesses poured ceremoniously over the dam.

    In the evening, there was a laser light show full of the history of the Columbia River and the dam.   Before it began, Moon insisted on going down the path to the grass next to the dam.  Reaching it, he touched it, went back up to the viewing area, and said, "You don't know how important this is to me."

 

      I do love the Columbia River, it is beautiful, and I have many fond memories connected to it.   One of them is our tradition of singing "Roll On Columbia" whenever we cross the river.  Sometimes the boys go to Portland without me and they call to sing it over the phone while they cross.   From now on we'll have to add the "Grand Coulee Dam" verse.

And on up the river is Grand Coulee Dam
The mightiest thing ever built by a man
To run the great factories and water the land
So roll on, Columbia, roll on
 Roll on, Columbia, roll on
Roll on, Columbia, roll on
Your power is turning our darkness to dawn
So roll on, Columbia, roll on!

    (In 1941, Woody was paid $266.66 to write songs about the value of public power.  He wrote 26 of them, including "Roll On", in one month.)  

    This trip was not something I have ever imagined wanting to do, but being able to make a wish come true . . . how often do you get to do that?

(Listen to Woody and see the Columbia here.)

yum

 

    In keeping my promise to my spinning wheel, of providing lots of color and texture for her next go-around, I pulled out this "Sorpresa" Moonshine Mix from LushMommy and just teased the fibers apart with my fingers, rather than carding it.

    And spun it into a chain-plied pile of lusciousness.

    And fyi, the third time around on my sweater, does seem to be working (she said in a whisper while knocking on her wooden needles).  

    We are intending to go on a short road trip for the next couple of days, which will provide lots of knitting time.  Some stitching will come along, too, but I find it very hard to finagle a needle in the car.  Am I alone in this?

 

swatch . . . smwatch

    While being helped so kindly at the yarn store recently, there was much advice given concerning how I should swatch for this sweater.  She went on about how big of a swatch to make, how to wash, pin, and measure around the cables, etc... 

    For those of you who don't knit, a swatch is a sample square knit in the pattern you plan to make.  The idea is to knit and wash it, as you would the finished sweater, and then to measure it to see if you got gauge (the same number of stitches per inch as the pattern calls for).  Knitters who follow the rules do this religiously- adjusting needle size and swatching over and over to get it right.

    Then there are knitters like me.  While the woman was rhapsodizing over the wonders a proper swatch would reveal to me . . . I stopped listening, saying inside of my head, "Please stop filling my head with so many words, I won't remember them, and besides, I don't swatch."  I smiled, said, "Thank you, that's very helpful.", and went home and cast on the whole sweater.

    I mentioned before that the first attempt did not go well.  After ripping it out, I thought I'd give this swatch thing a try.  So, there it is, up above.  It does not have the right number of stitches per inch.  Did I stitch another swatch?  No, I cast on for the second time with the same size needles, somehow thinking the karma from actually making a swatch would work some kind of magic.  Not so much.

    Well, here's hoping that the third time's a charm.

    (And, no, I did not make another swatch.)    

liking the tangles

    Grandma always said the backside should look as nice as the front.  

    Sorry, Grandma.  

of tea and moons

    It started with a couple of scraps at the top of the pile.  A square stitched to a rectangle.  Digging into the nest of thread, out came a cut-away bit of silk, it was tacked down next to the square.  Turning it upside down, the shape of a teapot and spout came into focus .  

    More foraging into the piles, using little scraps as they were found.

        This story is coming together.

almost

    Moon's view . . .

    We watched.  We waited. We worried.  We wished.

    It was very cold for a few days.  It seemed to us that the watering can magnified the cold.  We moved it out of the wind, wrapped a towel around it at night. 

    For the last two days we've slipped out to the porch, peeking in,

    hoping,

    but this little creature didn't make it.  

    I know this probably happens all of the time, and it's such a tiny little thing, but we are sad, and touched.

summer brain . . . or lack of

    Gift certificate and pattern in hand, I walked into the yarn store.  

    "I would like to make this sweater.  Can you help me figure out which yarn to use?"

    That was the last coherent thing I said for the next half an hour.  

    No, I didn't know what color or fiber content I wanted.  No, I didn't know what size I was.  No, I didn't know whether I wanted the solid moss green or the moss green with tweedy flecks.  No, I didn't know how I wanted it to fit.  No, I didn't want to be left alone to think about it.  (Though, maybe her offer to give me time and space was more for her benefit?)  

    A very kind woman, Janet, measured me, made good recommendations regarding color, fiber and size, and carefully read the pattern (very politely taking it out of my hands after my attempts to do it for myself).  She did everything except hold my hand (which I think I could have used).

    Back at home, holding my yarn, looking at the pattern again . . . I realized that she had made a mistake, I needed four more skeins!  I called the store talked to a different woman, the skeins were put on hold.  Janet called five minutes later.  Very nicely, she talked me through it all again, and, of course, she was right.  

    Can I just say . . . I know how to knit.  I know how to read a pattern.  I have knit with five colors at once, cables, button bands, bobbles .  . . I know how to do this!  

    But not this week, I guess.  Because the story didn't end there.  Last night I started the sweater .  . . and maybe, in a few days, after I recover from the mess I made, I will start it again, when my brain has returned to working order.

    (And, yes, I know that isn't moss green at all.)

moon stone, blue stone, story stone

    Moon and I are adjusting to summer.  Transitioning into a new mode is often awkward for us.  Yesterday, our first official day off, we happily slept in, went nowhere, ate slowly with books on the table, the scarf knitting was finished, all was good, until 11:00am.  

    "I'm bored."  

   (As a kid, I learned never to say I was bored, because it would lead to being handed a work project- cleaning out the kids' cupboard, bundling newspapers, stacking firewood, or if Mom was really tired of our whining . . . a day on the job with Dad, a plumbing construction worker.  Which meant playing in gravely sand piles, spreading gravel and hay where the new pipes would lay, heat and dirt, and no bathroom.)    

    But, to tell the truth, I was bored, too.   Well, not bored, but at a loss of what to do with myself.  With the school year done, the knitting project finished, there was a wonder of what to do next.  A wanting of something new, but not a lot of energy to imagine what it could be.

    Hooray for remembering there are stones to make for Jude . . . just the thing.  Small, easy, satisfyingly finished in a jiffy, and for a lovely cause.

    By 11:15 we were busy again, each of with our own projects.

    Today brought a new activity.  Moon went to use the watering can, which clearly hasn't been used (by us) in a while . . .

    We keep running outside to check the progress.  

    I'm thinking this is a sign that this summer will be very full, and not boring at all.

a little blue goes a long way

    The "Seaside" batt by Loop did get finished. 

    1,944 yards of spun singles, chain-plied into 648 yards of yarn,

    knit into a Hitchhiker scarf.

    Round and round I went.

    Blue skies, knitting, a sci-fi tv series, and not a lot of thinking happening here.