handstories

what?!?

    Whether it was a case of not being able to leave well enough alone . . . 

    Or if it just needed a little extra something . . .

    Either way, some things happened . . .

    And it's done.

take two for blue

    Blue was nice about it, but his Christmas socks were not right.

    Too tall, too bright, too tight (who told him he could grow so much in one year?!?)

    He chose the height and color this time.

    "Blueberry" (of course) by Hazel Knits.  Merry Christmas, Blue.

bubbling

    There is so much to do in the next couple of weeks, several work projects (including a giant snow bear- more on her later).  So, of course, I want to be working on my own projects even more.  

    Today the last touches on "bubble" were added.

    How I wish I could keep the world cozy.  

   Started here.

zig-zag-zip

    Do you remember that cool kit that I won last summer from Spincycle Yarns?  Well, I've finally finished the knitting of it.  Once I decided to read ALL of the directions, rather than assuming I knew what to do (which took my fool self a total of five starts to realize), it knit up very fast.  The chevron pattern was the perfect amount of change in stitch to keep it interesting, while still being easy enough to allow for chatting or movie watching. 

        I still love the name of the grey yarn, "grumpy birds", and found myself chanting it as I clicked along . . . "grumpy birds...grumpy birds...grumpy birds..."  Doesn't it make you giggle?

    Now to face the zipper installment!  

fiercely passionate

    I love that a pale pink thread was pulled out on the day "fierce" was stitched.   A sweet edge to the bite of that word.

    I'm not giving lots of thought to these words.  Whatever comes to mind as I pick up the needle.  Moon had just asked how to spell "fiercely".   I am trying to not put negative words on this cloth, so that when I pick it up years from now, it won't prick difficult memories.  Just a jumble of good words.

    So, I looked up fierce today.  "menacingly wild, savage, or hostile,violent in force, intensity, etc."  All such gloomy scary words.  Really?  I love my children fiercely.  I want justice fiercely, and will fight fiercely for it, if I can.  

    Finally, at the bottom of the definition, there was "passionate", thank goodness.  

 

Charcoal, "a beautiful colored friend"

    Do you remember Charcoal? -my first chicken catching (though not my last, Charcoal was an adventurous bird).  

    She met up with a raccoon last week.   Poor Charcoal.

    Fourteen of the neighbors gathered near her grave (under the wheelbarrow for protection from critters).

    Flowers were brought, as well as greens for her grieving sisters, and memories were shared.  There was a moment of chicken dancing, while two of us sang the "C-H-I-C-K-E-N" song (to two different tunes, though no one cared), and there were s'mores.

    The sweetest moment was when Charcoal's six year old owner read the ten things he would miss about her.

    You will be missed Charcoal.

muppet mama

    The boys heard my wishing for pink at holiday time.  

    This bright and wild yarn (from Yarnarchy, a local artist) makes me happy just to look at it.   Let alone wearing it!  It knit up in the blink of an eye (a modified version of Pluckyfluff's Slouch Hat.)

    This may be the last time they give me such a yarn . . . they roll their eyes and protest whenever I put it on to go out with them.  I don't understand?!?

cranking

    Can't seem to stop.  Will need to spin soon . . . before things topple.

        Cranking the handle of the drum carder is just the ticket for balancing the meetings, play writing, curriculum developing, and thinking that is filling time these days.

yarning

    This is a tale of two yarns, bobbins, flyers, and niddy-noddies. 

    Too small of bobbins, filled to bursting.

    Great big new bobbins and jumbo flyer, holding twice as much.    

    Leading to an old niddy-noddy, giving way mid skeining, with a crack, under the pressure of such fullness.

    In the end there are yards and yards of yarn.

    And a shawl from the first yarn.  

     With something to come from the second.

beyond repair

    When I went back to school, the apple tree had fallen.  The big ancient apple tree, left from the days when this valley was an orchard, the tree in the center of the playground, the tree we all made applesauce from every fall, the tree that is in the memory of my first day at the school- watching children in the tire swing, remembering how I had loved a tire swing as a child.  I stood there and cried.

        I shook my head at the "official" reasons that were given- knowing that it was a sign.  

    "Its roots on one side had been damaged by new construction.  It had grown top heavy."

    On second thought . . . it is exactly what has happened.

    I need to focus on making my own trees.