Weave, Knit, Bead

The Three Treasures: A Story About Chi

2010-05-26T06:54:00.000-07:00

Long, long, long ago there was a Chi master named Master Yu. One day a student came to Master Yu and asked, " How can I bless the universe by my presence?" The Master closed his eyes and appeared to be sleeping. Then he said, "There are Three Treasures. The body merges Heaven and Earth into One." The pupil waited, thinking that certainly there was more. An explanation, perhaps? Or a direction in which to think? The master remained silent.

The student left the master, puzzled about what she might do next. "I will practice dancing for one hundred days and see if I can discover the Three Treasures," she thought. " So for one hundred days, the student danced. She danced at dawn and at dusk. She danced when the sun was high in the sky and when it was hidden by the darkness of night. She danced as the moon rose, and as its shape shifted from full to hidden.

As she danced, she looked up and saw Heaven, the home of stars, moon, sun and infinite space. Surely Heaven was a Treasure. She felt Earth beneath her feet, solid, dense, home to the plants, rocks, animals and water, and knew that Earth was also a Treasure. "Heaven and Earth are two treasures, but what is the third?" True to her practice, she continued dancing. And by the one hundredth day, she knew. She knew the Third Treasure. The Third Treasure was the dance of Heaven and Earth that creates life - all Life." And so it is.

adapted from: Jahnke, Roger. The Healing Promise of Qi: Creating Extraordinary Wellness Through Qigong and Tai Chi. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill, 2002.

My Jobs in the House ReHab

2010-05-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

While Doug scrapes, sands and paints ceilings and walls, my jobs are to design the house, sell the stuff that we don't want and work on the outdoor areas. I've tidied up (as my mother-in-law would say) the Meditation Garden, as all it really needed was for the leaves to be picked up, plants repotted, fertilized and rearranged, and other general maintenance. It's now back to where it's just the normal gardening chores, which are, of course, ongoing.

Now my big project is my Outdoor Studio Area.

My studio consists of two connected spaces: a 20' x 20' indoor area, filled with looms, yarns, beads, and other treasures and an outdoor area of about the same square footage. The outdoor area is divided into a work space with tables and stoves, a storage shed, a sidewalk and a flower bed that doubles as the space for the washout sink and yarn drying. The current layout is good and doesn't really need altering. It's just that in the last few years, it's become home to some things that should be living elsewhere, and the flowerbed has, well, let's just say, become a tad overgrown and cluttered. So, I've decided to start with the flowerbed and reclaim my sinks and yarn drying area.

I've pulled out the spider plants and am working on the clearing the rest:

Just above this area, attached to the eaves, are rods where I hang my rinsed yarns to dry. I'll keep that set up, and the sinks, but I think that I'll pull out the other plants, such as they are, and lay pavers over to just past the sink. Then, maybe a little curved wall filled with some nice low maintenance rock garden sort of plants and a focal point of a hydrangea. Elsie the cow, Barney the pig, the Goddess, the ocotillo and Kokopelli will then have a very nice place to dance about in. Currently they are hidden in The Nasturtium Forest:

Of course, I also need to tend to my other house-rehab duties, particularly selling some things. Unfortunately, this house will just not hold everything that we have. Studio stuff first: who wants to buy a loom? (Don't worry, I have plenty of others to do my own weaving on.)

J-Made Loom
weaving width
8 shafts, 10 treadles
2 reeds
let me know if you're interested by leaving a comment

With Orange County as Home Base

2010-05-24T07:20:00.000-07:00

It's no secret to anyone that I've tried to leave Orange County. I'm ill at ease with the congestion, the pace of life here, and the fact that the developers always seem to win. It's also no secret that I, or we, since Doug is very much a part of this quest, have not found the house, the place, that says, "Here I am. I'm it. I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?" And, so, we listened, hoping for that voice, but hearing instead, "Make Orange County your home base." And with the acceptance of that, came a partnered sigh of relief and life changed. We began to work on our house, creating what we have always imagined it to be, a process that means we are right now living in a construction zone. But it is a construction zone filled with imagination, hope, and anticipation. And in this re-building, we began to see this house, this little plot of land, with fresh eyes. There are wonders everywhere.

I am delighting these days in sitting in one place and taking photographs. The other day, I sat on the sidewalk, just where it leaves my Outdoor Studio Space and transitions into the Backyard Junkyard. Here's what I saw:

An Opening for the Wee Folk

Fairytales and myths tell us quite plainly of the comings and goings of those wee ones in the night, how they dance in the moonlight and have secret passages into their hidden lairs. I think I may have found just such a spot. Maybe I should leave some cookies? An offering and ask their blessings?

Kokopelli Dancing

Kokopelli, the humpbacked flute player, the trickster, plays to the shadowy realms. Even in the bright light of late afternoon, shadows follow him and all is not always as it seems.

Unseen Cactus

Underneath a mat of creeping weeds, life flourished. In spite of neglect, or maybe because of it, these cactus grew. Like this house, neglected for many years while its people grew careers, other life has continued.

There is a life independent of us in this house and little plot of land and that Life is a blessing.

Practice, Practice, Practice

2010-02-20T07:17:00.000-08:00

My heart is full this morning, just as my head is swirling. I have spent the last few days in retreat at under the guidance of very able teachers. The only way I can describe it is with a story:

Once upon a time, and a long, long time ago it was, there was a young woman. Her hair touched her waist, danced across handwoven blouses and played hide and seek with turquoise earrings. Her pockets held treasures: a small rock, a bit of metal, threads, and the occasional currency. Her feet wore sandals, although she kicked those off whenever possible to feel the dirt or sand between her toes. She laughed a lot and was very, very curious.

This young woman's mother taught her to build a loom. First, four pieces of wood were gathered and fitted together into a rectangle. Next, a row of nails was hammered into the top and bottom of the rectangle. Then, a linen thread was tied to the lower left nail and wrapped up, around the first top nail, down, around the next bottom nail, up and down and up and down, until all of the nails were wrapped. Then the weaving began with the weft threads passing back and forth and over and under these threads.

Everything necessary for weaving was available in this loom and the young woman wove many things: wall hangings, purses, bags, mats, pillows. Big fluffy yarns and skinny threads, yarns that she spun, and yarns spun in faraway places, all found their way into her weavings. Yes, all of weaving was available in that small, simple loom.

Then one day the mother brought another type of loom into the weaving room. When the young woman saw it, she was curious. That evening, using what she knew from the first loom, she saw how to put the linen thread on the new loom and ready it for weaving. There were no nails to wrap. Instead there were heddles to thread and reeds to sley and a big beam at the back of the loom to wind the linen warp on. When she began to weave, the young woman had to use her whole body, not just her hands and fingers. Her feet tromped the treadles, and her hands threw the shuttle all the while pulling the beater forward. There was a way to sit on the bench, and a way to use her arms and shoulders. There was a deeper rhythm and in this rhythm, the young woman wove in beauty. Outside this rhythm, the young woman wove raggedy selvages, bumpy cloth and sleazy fabric. It took practice, and through the years, as the young woman practiced, the weaving improved and the rhythm became more natural. Slowly, the young woman became a weaver. And, yet, no matter how much she practiced, the weaver knew that she was always a beginner because each step simply revealed another step. And that is why, to this very day, the weaver continues to practice weaving.

Thank you, Mother, for practice, and next steps, whether in weaving, Tai Chi Chih or other parts of my life.

Sock Madness and Ravelympics

2010-02-08T07:16:00.000-08:00

Aaaack!!!!! The season is upon us. What? Spring? No, that's still a few weeks away. Football? Baseball? Basketball? I wouldn't know those seasons if they happened in my backyard. No, I'm talking the IMPORTANT seasons - Sock Madness and Ravelympics.

Some of you may remember Sock Madness from last year. This is a time when ordinarily peaceful sock knitting becomes a competitive event. It takes place on Ravelry, here. 160 sock maniacs, er, knitters, are divided into four teams. At a specified time, the sock pattern is released and the knitting begins. The competition continues through several rounds with the first certain number of knitters who complete the socks advancing to the next round. Finally, it is down to one person from each team. Those knitters compete, the semi-finalists compete, and then, the winner! One sleep deprived sock knitter with cramped hands, sore back and tush, is crowned The Maddest Sock Knitter of all. I cannot even begin to describe how much fun this is. Yes, even with all of the very real pain, it is so much fun. It won't begin for another couple of weeks, although the sign ups and panic have already begun. In the meanwhile, this year, I have another event to knit for, just to keep me going while waiting for SM.

That other event is Ravelympics, also on Ravelry, here. Again, how to describe this? Basically, it is patterned after the Olympics. There are teams and individual events. It begins with the Opening Ceremonies and ends with the extinguishing of the Olympic Flame. I've chosen to enter the WIPs Dancing Event. WIPs = Works in Progress. You know, all of those projects started, but not yet finished. I have several to choose from.

There is Ms. Purple Sweater:

There is the beginnings of a small mitered project bag:

There is a triangular shawl:

There's a few spinning WIPs:

Plus, I would also really, really like to knit some socks in the Sock Hockey Event, which means that I would cast those on during the Opening Ceremonies. Don't you think that sounds like a great thing to do during the Opening?

Problem is, as always, time. The Olympics/Ravelympics begin Feb 12, and the Closing Ceremony is Feb 28. 16 days. That's only a bit more than 2 weeks. And, for 6 of those days, I'll be out of town, 4 of them at a Tai Chi Chih retreat. I'm thinking that I may not get as much knitting done at a retreat as I usually do. Something about relaxing rather than obsessing.

Clearly, I'm going to have to think this through a bit. I'll keep you posted.

Walking, Watching, Waiting

2010-02-06T07:19:00.000-08:00

This week, while walking at the Seal Beach Pier, I encountered a pelican.

It (I have no idea if it's male or female) was right there at the end of the pier, just walking, watching and waiting. Now, my suspicion is that it was waiting while watching the fishermen, and walking to wherever the possibility of some nice juicy tidbit of fish was most likely to appear. But still, how often does one get this close to a pelican?

The ocean and its creatures have been nearby all of my life and yet, never have I been this close to a pelican. The first thing I noticed was that pelicans are very, very big birds. The top of its head came just about to my waist, its charcoal webbed feet were almost the size of my hands and its beak was easily elbow to fingertip on me. I also didn't realize that they have the most beautiful yellow stripe along the top of their heads accentuated by a black stripe down their neck. And, I thought that the Brown Pelican, which is what this is, was, well, brown. But in reality, their coloring is so much more complex: a heathering of browns, off white and cream.

A dear friend of mine, who is also a Catholic priest, once told me that the Pelican is a perfect symbol of Love and Compassion because a mother pelican will pluck the flesh from her own breast to feed her young. This is depicted in the stained glass window of the First Congregational Church in Amherst, Massachusetts:

Scientists insist that pelicans do not engage in this behavior, yet the story remains.

It seems particularly apt to me that the Pelican appeared on my walks this last week, the week of Imolc. Imolc is a cross quarter marking of the time between winter solstice and spring equinox. It's a passage from the dark to the light and some Gaelic stories say that on this day the hag Cailleach gathers firewood for the rest of winter. And, some of those stories say that she takes the form of a giant bird and carries the wood in her beak.

Now, I'm not sure how well a pelican could carry wood in her beak, but she is certainly a giant bird and I've learned to pay attention when such things appear on my path, especially during times of transition, like Imolc. And while scientists don't believe the Christian pelican stories and others might not believe the story of Cailleach, I have learned that stories are often more important than facts, because facts are always limited, whereas stories are not.

And so I look at this giant bird and ask, "What have you brought me, Mother? What might I learn from you?"

She looks long at me, not moving, and then walks past me, seemingly tempting me to follow. No hurry. Just walk. Watching and waiting. I follow. Walking behind her, I watch and wait. We continue in a sort of walking duet punctuated by the cries of gulls and the occasional sprinkling of water from the waves hitting the pier. Walk. Watch. Wait. And I realize that in this movement, a movement of not only body, but also of opening, is my answer: Walk. Watch. Wait. It is a prayer. It is a way of being in the world. It is about learning to move through my life, observe, and open to receive the Good.

Thank you, Mother Pelican, for this gift at Imolc.

ruth - just goes to prove that stories are better than facts.

The Sweater That Fits

2010-02-05T15:19:00.000-08:00

It's raining. All day. Rain. And that is significant because my plan was to photograph The Sweater this morning, outside, in natural light, and post it bright and early. That was then. Instead, I have been waiting for it to stop raining and it is pretty clear that, just like the weatherman said, it is going to rain today. Finally, admitting that it is, in fact, actually raining, I waited until it was just barely raining, and took the picture. Not quite the best picture, but I am way too excited about The Sweater to be delayed by wet stuff, so here it is.

The Sweater That Fits

A simple, charcoal, handspun, handknit raglan cardigan that has sleeves that end at my wrists, rather than my knuckles. It fits around both bust and butt, buttons close, and yet is not HUGE on me. I am ecstatic. I am grinning like an idiot. I am so encouraged. Here's a close up with me thanking the gods:

I'm ready for the next one. Maybe stop the raglan seam a little sooner. Maybe a pullover this time. Who knows? I've unleashed my designer genie and the ideas are aflyin'. Plus, there's that gansey that's been calling. Some of you know what I mean; the rest of you will find out soon.

And the possums? If you look closely in the first photo, you might catch a glimpse of one back of the tree. That's where they sleep. And where, while I was gone for a week or so, they carried off six skeins of handspun. They came in through the cat door, helped themselves to the yarn that would become The Sweater That Fits, and built a snuggly warm bed. Luckily, I was able to retrieve it, wash it and make it into a snuggly warm sweater.

Woohoo! It fits.

ruth - yup, gansey is next. I've got one sample done, working on a couple of others. Think I'll break more rules and do it top down, like the raglan cardi.

The Sweater

2010-02-02T07:47:00.000-08:00

New Year's resolutions are seldom part of my MO. There's something about them, and goals in general, that make me instantly stop doing anything that takes me in their direction and, instead, head off on a side road. Some say that I have a problem with authority. Myself, I just think that I enjoy trusting the path that appears rather than trying to hack a new one.

However, in 2009, I did, sort of, have a goal: to knit a sweater that fit me. If I succeeded, it would be the first time in my life (excluding being a very small child and baby, when fit isn't really an issue) that I had a garment with the correct length sleeves. I kid you not. All sleeves on all blouses, sweaters or any other upper garment are always too long for me.

While none of us fit the ideal size that industry has determined is normal, I seem to have taken this to extremes. First, I am short: 5'1" in a 5'6" "normal" world (according to industry standards.) I am large busted (some numbers don't need to be blogged), short waisted, and have short arms. This means that not only are all commercial garments ill-fitting, but even patterns for knitting and sewing, if followed as writ, are useless.

So, I have spent a lot of time altering patterns, with limited success. Then, one day, it hit me: I should create a design that starts with my body, rather than a design that starts with a pattern and then trys to adjust to and change someone else's concept of how my body should be. Now, I know that there's a great metaphor and lesson in there, but I can't follow that right now or I'll be off on one of those side roads that often waylay me from getting things accomplished. So, back to physical reality and designing for my body.

I had some vague ideas about how to do this. Measurements. Gauge. Ease. Design. Type of Sweater. What I needed was a way to pull it all together into The Sweater. I began with Type of Sweater and decided on a cardigan, a raglan cardigan. A cardigan because I always have a basic cardigan that I wear constantly, and my current one was getting pretty raggedy. Raglan because I remembered having raglan sweaters in the past that looked good on me.

Internet to the rescue! I Googled "raglan cardigan" and found this. This is an "unpattern" for The Incredible, Custom-fit Raglan Sweater, described by the author, Pamela Costello, as a "simple, fill-in-the-blanks method" for making a custom-fit raglan. She writes that it is not her original idea and cites Ida Riley Duncan as the first innovator of this method. So, like magic, I was walking down the road that would lead to a sweater that fits.

Like all designing, it required swatching.

It required frogging.

It required some frustration.

But on Friday, I'll show you the results. I'm bettin' that you'll be impressed. Oh, did I mention that I also spun the yarn for it, and that our backyard possums stole it? No? Okay, I'll tell you about that in the next post, too.

An Oatman Christmas

2010-01-31T07:34:00.000-08:00

Yes, I do know that Christmas has passed. Most people have put away the ornaments, taken down the lights and relegated the Christmas tree either to storage or the compost bin. But there are some things which are seasonless, including that creative urge to decorate that Christmas seems to evoke. So, in the interest of that urge, not necessarily the season, I offer you these moments of Creativity, from Oatman, Az.

Oatman is a former mining town where the founding citizens once earned their livelihood by gold mining and all of the commercial endeavors like hotels, mercantile, and restaurants, that supports any such town. But as frequently happens in these stories, the ore played out. The ingenuity of the citizens, however, remained. Today the citizens of Oatman earn their livelihood by attracting tourists to their town with eccentric happenings. These include wild burros roaming the streets, staged shoot-outs, bed races and touting the Oatman hotel as the place where Clark Gable and Carole Lombard spent their wedding night after being married in nearby Kingman.

Like many small towns, Oatman goes all out at Christmas. In fact, at Christmas, Oatman has its very own Christmas Tree Lane which takes place along the main road (that is, the paved road) into town. Undaunted by the fact that Oatman is in a desert where pine trees are non existent, Oatman does what it does best. It celebrates desert contrariness: Oatman decorates the ever-present creosote bushes.

The Desert Roses offer a wish for Happy Holidays, taking advantage of the nice contrast of red with the more neutral surroundings.

The Red Hot Red Hat Mamas offer a contemporary take on an angel and red hatted ornaments on the tree, er, bush.

The Stage Stop, a restaurant in town, has sparse, but appropriate decorations.

I hope the real hamburgers aren't this rubbery.

The sign reads "Mohave Valley Elem School Lunch Ladies" and

the decorations are crafted from the tools of their trade.

There's always room for a sense of humor and a nod to traditional songs. The sign reads " Pine Cones for a Bare Tree."

The creativity and ingenuity of people never fail to amaze me. I find Oatman's Christmas Tree Lane so much better than those pre-fab blow up decorations from the box stores.

And just so that you know that my creativity is alive and well, here's a teaser for Wednesday's blog:

These are the buttons.

The Balance of Lace ( part 2)

2009-09-19T08:25:00.001-07:00

The story of the Daughter Desert Dancer, posted here, has been telling itself to me as I knit Titania's Waltz, a soft pale pink lace scarf designed by The Yarnarian.

The scarf is 39 stitches wide. And if the pattern is to read correctly, it is essential to maintain that count of 39. It's an easy reference; count the stitches and know instantly if I've erred or succeeded. Those 39 stitches are the sentinels. They are the tortoise, the rock, the hills and the bush, of my scarf. They stand guard, gently, but firmly guiding me, and the stitches, in a relationship of yarn, holes, needles and fingers that bears witness to the waltz.

Holes and solid spaces create the pattern guarded so vigilantly. The holes are made by a YO, wrapping the yarn around the needle without knitting it. The solid spaces are knitted. But in the 4 YO/decrease rows, the solid space knitting takes a certain twist. The YO of the holes adds one stitch for every YO. This must be balanced by decreasing stitches in the solid knitted areas for the stitch count to remain 39. It is a dance between the increasing holes and decreasing solid areas. How odd! The hole, a void, increases, while the solid area decreases. Such is the dance of lace.

The first two YO/dec rows create the foundation of the pattern. Ordered YOs outline, and two decreases either side of a solitary knit stitch separate, the 39 stitches into clusters. The third YO/dec row gathers the stitches together more clearly, using the solitary centered knit stitch of the first two rows as a destination. This third row is my favorite row of the entire pattern. In this row, three different kinds of decreases are used to balance the YOs. Three! And here the dance becomes even more subtle in its arching toward those sentinels. The three different decreases not only maintain the stitch count, but create the reaching, or gathering up, of the stitches toward the center. First, a SSK decrease reaches to the left. Then a SSKP dec gathers the center, and then a final reach by a K2tog leans to the right.The fourth, and final YO/dec row brings the stitches to a crescendo, albeit a gentle one, with a final gathering into place.

The simple movements of yarn, needles and fingers create, as if from nothing, a visible dance, a recognizable motif. It is as if there was an image just lying in wait, ready for the moment when it might be called upon to appear. I wonder about these images, how universal they, and knitting might be, and what other images lie waiting in the depth, waiting to be revealed. How deep is the reservoir of these images and where does it lead?

There is, of course, no way to reasonably answer these questions. They are soul questions, in the way that Heraclitus describes soul. He says, "You could not discover the limits of the soul, even if you traveled by every path in order to do so; such is the depth of its meaning." How, then, to know these things? To find a path, to greet the images and allow them into my space? For me, it is simply to arch toward the rock, walk softly where tortoises live, stretch to embrace the hills, listen closely to the rocks, and, of course, to knit where holes make more and solids make less.

YarnYenta - thank you. thank you very much.

The Balance of Lace (part 1)

2009-09-18T07:53:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, an art professor told a story about his daughter. She was a dancer and she went out to the desert to dance. She stood in the sand, posed, listened, and began to move. Her arms reached out into the sky. Her feet felt their way along the earth. And in the reaching and the stepping, she felt . . . nothing. She stretched further, and stepped harder. But her gestures evaporated into the dry air. She stopped, confused. Why was the desert not answering? Why was it so silent?

"Why," she asked the yellowish green bush in front of her. And in asking, she leaned toward it, arching her back and the creosote bush whispered in the breeze.

"Why?" she implored the distant hills, spreading her arms as wide as the hills.

"Why?" she whispered to the tortoises beneath the ground and her feet began to tap lightly.

"Why?" she sang to the steady rocks who murmured in their ancient silent language.

Leaning, arching, whispering, spreading her arms and singing, she began to move in the area bounded by those sentinels. She danced, and she knew the why.

continued here

Where Land and Water Meet

2009-09-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

Certain words and phrases get stuck in my head, rattle around for awhile, and if they survive, end up as woven or beaded artwork. I have no idea why or how that process works, just that it does. So, a week ago, I gave into the incessant echo of "As Above, So Below," and began to follow its path to becoming art.

I know that "As Above, So Below" is a series of woven pieces and that it has to do with that edge where land and water meet. The ancient Greeks believed, as many traditional cultures do, that bodies of water are the openings to the Underworld. They saw the image of the tree on land reflected seemingly upside down in the lake, but instead of a reflection, they saw another world, just like this one, only reversed. When I was working extensively with dreams, many people in my dream group had dreams of familiar places, yet reversed. In these dreamscapes, houses on the left side of a street in this reality, were on the opposite side in the dream. Doors and windows traded places. Old people were young, young were old. The Greeks saw this in waking life, in lakes and streams, as well as in oracles and dreams.

I decided one day to try and see this reversal at a lake at El Dorado Nature Center. I stood on the wooden bridge, staring across the lake to where the land and water meet.I waited. And waited. And then it happened. The reflection on the water of the trees was not a reflection, a right angle depiction of the land, but instead it went down, straight down. The trees and bushes continued, upside down, delving deep into the unknown regions of that lake.

note: click on images to embiggen

This is the place where I looked:

And this is that image cropped and manipulated in Photoshop:

This new image matches the format of several woven pieces I have done in the past, measuring about 16 inches wide and 70 inches high. I like the banner-like quality and its suitability for painted warps and brocade. So, using this image as a "sketch," I wound a warp of 20/2 cotton, washed and prepped it, and today I dyed it.

First, the warp was stretched out on a table. I am somewhat casual about this, not requiring that every thread be in perfect alignment. The purpose of the dyeing is to create the background, a sort of overall color sense that the brocade and tabby woven areas can follow.

The warp must be weighted in some way so that it stays put on the table. This is my very sophisticated solution.

Once the warp is spread out, the dyeing can begin. I layer the dyes, creating colors that are literally deep, built one upon another. The first layer is bright - like Springtime.

Successive layers are built up until that nice, deep, murkiness is achieved:

Note the helper-cat in the far right corner.

Once the colors are what I want, the warp is covered with plastic wrap. It will rest in its swampy cocoon until tomorrow. This resting time allows the fiber reactive dye to chemically bond with the cotton fiber.

Usually, I would let the dyed warp rest for about 24 hours and then rinse it, dry it and warp my loom. But, we are leaving for up north on Wed, so instead I will let it dry while I am gone and then rinse it when I get back.

Done with the dyeing for today, only two things remain to do. First, clean up the mess. Dyeing is messy. Colorful messes, but still messes.

And, then, mess cleared away, well, it's time to rest, just like the warp. Or the helper-cat.

AlisonH - yes, and such a good way to stay connected within nature.

Blue Skies, Not Orange

2009-09-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've blogged - over a month, in fact. It's not that there weren't bloggable things going on or that I didn't have anything to say. No, my life has been active and filled with happenings and projects. It's just that I didn't blog about them.

Sometimes I worry about these silences, as if the world was waiting on tiptoe, peering over some imaginary fence, just to see if I had blogged today. But the truth is, the older I get, the less I worry about such things. The more committed, and the easier it is, to just follow where my life takes me, with an occasional prod and nudge from my ego, but mostly just wondering as I get up each day, what will today be like?

One morning, this full moon greeted me. The first thing that I noticed was the color of the sky. It was gray, with a hint of blue. There was no orange or brown, as had been the way of the previous days' skies. The typical Southern California wildfires, that used to wait until autumn and the Santa Ana winds, had begun this year in summer. And the sky, filled with smoke, turned orange. But this morning, blessedly, the sky was blue, with a bit of fog adding a grayish cast.

I was reminded of cycles. The cycle of the moon, the sun, the subtle seasons of this place where I live and even of the fires. And also my own cycle, how quiet times mesh with more open times, how activity flows into ease and how I love the summer and the sunshine, but am looking forward to the chill of winter and, hopefully, some rain.

Sometimes, I have learned, I just don't do certain things. And without a daily job or family to care for, other than the cat and, occasionally, very occasionally, Doug, I can get by with that now. I can wake up, walk outside to my work area and stare at the moon, being grateful that the sky is blue and not orange. It's a very good way to live a life.

Ruth - yes, you could, and for that reason, maybe I won't write about my leisurely mornings anymore, because if you retired from retirement, well, where would I get my yarn? ;-)

A Kreativ Award

2009-07-22T10:50:00.000-07:00

Awhile back, the Yarnarian surprised me by giving me this award. The rules are that, in order to keep this award, I must name seven of my favorite things and pass it on to seven of my favorite blogs. So, here goes.

Favorite Things:

1. My husband, Doug. Not exactly a "thing," but you know what I mean. And it's not just him, but him and me and us and this relationship that we have crafted over the years and that continues to be a WIP.

2. All of my pets and the animals in my life, including, of course, the current Ms. SarahCat and Mr. Toby, but also Shadow, TC, Eric, Bis, Tasha, Buster, Turbo, Babs, and all of the rest.

3. Weaving, knitting and beading. My greatest teachers and passion. They provide a lens through which I view the world.

4. My faith and the opportunity to practice it. And, I do mean "practice."

5. Friends, online and off.

6. The plants, animals, weather and everything else that surrounds me and continuously amazes me.

7. Creativity - not just mine, but mostly others. Creativity is a great source of joy, wisdom and beauty for me.

And now for the blogs, some of which I know have been awarded before:

1. SpinDyeKnit- the inimitable AlisonH. The embodiment of creativity, hope and Faith and a model of why and how creating things matters.

2. The Seated View - Lene, whose sense of humor, rants, grace (yes, Lene, you do have grace) and intelligence opens up the world in ways I never dreamed.

3. The Yarnarian - I know, I know. You gave me the award. But eye candy plus humor? Not to mention things that I need to buy? How can I resist?

4. The Daily Coyote - The adventures of Shreve (the person), Charlie (the coyote), Eli (the cat), Daisy (the cow) and adorable Chloe (hound dog). Great story and magnificent photography. Don't just read the blog, get her book.

5. Weaving a Life - Laura Fry, master weaver, but more than that. She's dedicated to creating her life through weaving. A lot of us talk it, Laura does it.

6. Mr. Flapper Duck - Flapper, with a wry sense of humor and the good cause of being kind to animals, writes, with his silly human, about being a duck and the chore of teaching humans.

7. Crafting Chaos - Her Mother Project, IMO, is a healing presence for mothers and daughters everywhere.

That's it. It occurred to me while writing this, that some of these people don't even know how much I benefit from having them in my world. I think it's time that I told them.

Thanks, Ruth (the Yarnarian)!

Humility, Take Me to the Pond

2009-07-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

One of the many blessings of Sock Madness is doing a range of sock techniques, most of which I had never tried. A down side of Sock Madness is that, because you must follow the pattern exactly as written, the socks don't always fit exactly right. But those two things combined, new techniques and fit, inspired me to now make socks that fit me well and notice which toes, heels, insteps and other constructions work best for me. So, last night found me revamping the gusset on the On-Hold toe-up socks by Wendy Knits!.

I had used this heel flap/gusset structure in Lacey Ribs and it worked reasonably well, but was a bit tight across the heel/instep, even with Lacey Ribs' inherent stretchiness due to its ribbed lace pattern. So, I decided to increase the gusset on the On-Hold socks.

I got out my graph paper and charted the gusset and heel by the instructions in the book so that I could see what was happening. From there, I came up with a sort of formula for how it worked, double checked my formula against the numbers in the book. Yay! It worked. Then I figured it for the increases I wanted to make. First lesson in humility: All that I really needed to do was use the numbers for the next size, which were the numbers I came up with for my desired increase. But, all of my figuring had taught me the principle behind this construction, so that was definitely worth the time and effort.

So, off I went to knit. Increased the gusset stitches as required. All was well and good. Then I began to turn the heel. A little tricky, not because of my changes, but just because I'm not familiar enough to do this construction easily, yet. Give me time. I'll get there. Finally, heel turned successfully, wraps nicely hidden, knit across, begin lace pattern on front of foot. Oops. The count is off.

See that bottom arrow? That points to a correct center of the pattern. See that top arrow? The center of the pattern has wandered one stitch to the left. How could I not notice this? Well, probably because I was so busy patting myself on the back for figuring out the heel.

Off to the Frog Pond for me, with Humility as my guide.

edited to add: For those of you not familiar with knitters' jargon - The Frog Pond is where we go to rip our mistakes. Why? Because what do the frogs tells us? Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.

Projects. I have Projects.

2009-07-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

There are people who begin a project, and then wait until they have completed that one before they start another. I know these people must exist, completing one project and then beginning the next, although I haven't ever really met one myself. My MIL came close. She never began the many knitted projects that she admired the entire time I knew her because she had not yet finished a sweater begun back when she was first married. Then, there are people who begin a project, and another, and another, and another until there are so many projects that when they finally actually physically leave this plane, they leave a lot of UFOs behind. These people I know exist because I have not only met one, but was raised by one. It took me forever to sort through my mom's UFOs, some of which were not only unfinished objects, but also unknown. I'm somewhere between these two, but still, I've got projects.

Right now, I am actively working on:

Fair Isle socks designed by YarnYenta on Ravelry for a KAL with the PennyRose group:

I'm actually further along on these, but not by much.

On-Hold socks from the Wendy Knits! Toe-UP Socks book, also part of a KAL on Ravelry:

A Spiral Sweater designed by Shelly Kang:

Yes, I have a ways to go, but, hey, you have to start somewhere.

A shawl that I found while searching my stash for yarn to start the Spiral Sweater:

And an entrelac scarf that is my carry along project:

In addition to all of this knitting, there are the projects that I tend to think of as my artwork, only because they are based around concepts rather than a pattern, cannot and will not be repeated, and pull from me in a different way than my knitting does. Also, they are not portable and can't be done while chatting online or in person. I work on them in my studio in solitude, and don't share much about them until they are done. But, you've seen bits and pieces of them on the looms in my previous post and at the bottom of this post.

One time when I was feeling overwhelmed by everything that I could work on that day, I asked myself, "So, Linda, just what would you do if you finished up every single project that you're working on?" The answer was obvious, I'd start some more projects. 'Nuff said. I'm happy with projects.

Studio Lost. Studio Found.

2009-07-05T19:42:00.000-07:00

A minor miracle has occurred at my house. I have found my studio. Oh, I had a general idea of where it was, a memory from before I went back to school several years ago and used to work almost full time in there. Plus, there must be tables in that room, otherwise, what's holding up all of that stuff? Well, as anyone who has followed my moans and groans on Facebook knows, I've been sorting and cleaning. And, today, I can formally declare the studio as found, clean and workable.

There's a worktable with beads stored in proper containers and projects arranged underneath:

There's a desk with the top visible and it's even clear around the chair. Samples and notes are in notebooks, filed up above and other things tucked conveniently into their own cubbyholes:

The tools are accessible and new shelves hold sewing supplies and miscellaneous things like glues, all in their own boxes:

There's a place to sit, muse, read and write:

Even the outdoor work area is clear:

The burners are ready for dyeing, and SarahCat is completing her inspection:

But best of all, I can get to my looms. I can weave again! And look, they waited for me:

A rug inspired by the red rock canyons and dusty green mesas of northern New Mexico.

A wall hanging inspired by the notion of "As Above, So Below," and based on the ocean.

They waited for me. Time to weave.

AlisonH - tell your hubby thanks. It is a nice tool chest - gift from my hubby, who also keeps it stocked with neat tools.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, USA

2009-07-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't listened, watched or read the news lately, well, here it is: This country, the USA, makes really, really big mistakes. Not small delicate things like, oops! So sorry I mispronounced your name or stepped on your toe, but really big ones like wars, pollution, economic collapse. It's true. There it is in the news media. Learn all about it.

It would be silly, if not downright dangerous, to ignore those really awful and sad parts of the USA. But you know what? I love this country. I'm grateful and proud to be an American. I'm grateful that when we have a president that we do not like, whose policies we believe are crippling the nation, the military or a group of vigilantes, do not rush the White House and overthrow him. No, we wait. We bitch and moan, we criticize, we caricature, we blame, and then, finally, we vote. We vote and get a different president. And off we go with new concerns, triumphs, hopes and, yes, mistakes.

This democratic process of choosing a president, or any of our elected officials, points to two of my favorite aspects of this country and its people: our diversity and our creativity. Recently while visiting Silver City, NM, I found the perfect representation of this.

Where covered up windows in an old building used to be, there are now five mixed media murals, created, according to this website, by local children and artists. The murals celebrate the geographic and ethnic diversity of the region. (click to embiggen the pix)

The first mural, reading from left to right, depicts the Mimbres culture, a Native American people.

Examples of Mimbres potter with its well-known designs line the top of the mural while corn and arrowheads surround a collection of baskets, a grinding stone, bone needles and corn on a black and white table (or is it a game board?) set in a green valley.

The second mural depicts the Apaches, another Native American people.

The table is filled with an Apache burden basket, a papoose, rawhide moccasins, arrows and a photo of an Apache warrior, maybe Geronimo or Cochise, I'm not certain. A hummingbird adorns each lower corner and beavertail cactus with nopales blossoms, along with blooming yucca plants frame the image topped by Apache symbols.

The central, and largest, mural depicts the Hispanic people. This area was a part of Spain and then Mexico before it was the United States and the Hispanic influence is strong.

The Virgin of Guadalupe watches over a table filled with the guitar and sombrero of Mariachi, chilies, weaving and pottery. A candle surrounded by roses is at each lower corner bordering a series of horse heads. The top has indigenous Mexican symbols and the sailing ships of the Spaniards.

The fourth mural is of the Anglo people.

The borders are rifles and the lower corners are a gold mining pan and pick and an United States Cavalry badge. The table is filled with a telephone, a camera, a revolver, a radio, a book titled "Pretty Primer" and a photo of, possibly, an outlaw - maybe Billy the Kid or Jesse James. Also on the table is a poker hand and, far in the back, a corset. I'm guessing that's an allusion to the wild times of saloons and the girls upstairs. At the very top of the mural are pieces of barbed wire and a variety of symbols, including an enigmatic "916." Anyone know what that means?

The last mural, on the far right, is dedicated to the Jewish and Asian people of the area.

Banners on either side say "Chinese Goods," and "Japanese Goods." The lower corners are menorahs. The central band shows a town with a building to the right marked "Max Schuz (sic)." The table is filled with vegetables, Chinese shoes, a cash register, a family photo, a Torah and war medals. Topping the mural is an arched wall-of-memory citing specific war heroes and military units.

The murals are beautiful. Their colors are bright and clear, yet muted just enough to fit with the building on which they reside. I admit to admiring them mostly for their aesthetics and their stories. The histories depicted, well, any mistakes or misreadings as to specific persons or items in this post are mine and I apologize. Please let me know.

But I think I got it right, even if not understanding all of the symbolism depicted. It's about diversity and how that diversity comes together in a creative act and makes a One. It's about the strengths of this country, including its weaknesses and mistakes in that strength, and acknowledging and celebrating not only who and what we already are, but who and what we might become.

Happy Birthday, USA.
Happy Birthday, all of the people and peoples who live here and Happy Birthday to the ideas of equality and pursuit of happiness.
Happy Birthday to 233 years of pursuing an Ideal.

Cars and Flags, cntd.

2009-07-01T20:53:00.000-07:00

Human beings need stories. Stories are the thread that connects the seemingly random dots of our lives until some sort of pattern, or meaning, appears. Just like kids with those coloring book images, we look for what might be hidden on the page. Or better yet, like the ancients, we look to the heavens and see warriors, bears, maidens and dragons rendered in the dots of stars.

George Peterson looked at the plane, the pilot and the hand stitched flag wrapped like a "ritual bandanna," and saw a story of a young man and woman separated by a war and duties beyond their control. He ached for their separation, and for their love. He understood sacrifice.

My husband, Doug, looked at the flag and saw something else. He scoffed at the idea that it was made by the pilot's girlfriend. "No," he insisted, "the pilot made it." Pointing at one side of the flag, he noted the tabs, crudely stitched to the flag.

"He made it, probably for outside his tent. Maybe it was the only flag they had. Then, on this mission, well, he knew he wouldn't be coming back to it. Maybe there wouldn't even be a camp anymore if they were all pilots, so he brought it with him. No, no girlfriend. The pilot made it."

I listened to my husband, standing right next to me, secure in the knowledge that he and his "girlfriend" were together. We both knew that we would have dinner later, walk along the river, watch the sun set and go back to our hotel room with its expansive view of the river and the desert. We could easily touch one another, feel our own physical existence. George Peterson, in the last days of the War in the Pacific, may not have had that certainty.

I had my own questions about the flag. Some were sexist and rather fiber-elitist. I didn't quite believe that a woman would stitch a flag of this importance so crudely. I have a sexist assumption that women know how to sew, and this was clearly not sewn by someone familiar with a needle and thread. And, I wondered, was she with him at the camp? Did she live nearby? Was it a woman he just met in a village? I remembered the pictures of a woman that I found in my own father's military things. No one in our family recognized her.

But mostly I wondered about the flag itself. Where had the fabric come from? It appeared to be cotton, like a flour sack. A rice sack? I've seen those at the Asian markets in my neighborhood. And the orange-red circle, whatever had that been a part of? Now I began to imagine rice sacks emblazoned with the sun of Japan. If it was a rice sack, was it from a tented mess hall, like the one that George Peterson stepped outside of just in time to see the incoming Kamikaze? So many questions, so little truly known.

James Hillman, father of archetypal psychology, says that the "imaginative possibility in our natures," is how events are deepened into experience. And, I believe, that it is in this deepened experience that we are connected, like the facets of Indra's net. It is that connection that allowed George Peterson to see, not an enemy pilot intent on destruction, but a human being with loved ones making sacrifices. It allowed Doug to see, not just another fiber find by his wife, but a man's creativity, maybe somewhat like his own pride and sense of honor in the things that he creates for us and our home, in how he lives his life as self sufficiently as possible.

And for me? For me, that flag was, and is, one more instance of a textile stretching across cultures and time. And in that stretching, a weaving occurred as, just like on a loom, the seemingly dissimilar elements of warp and weft were brought together into a whole. Enemies in war became human beings in life. And a simple square and circle of cloth, crudely stitched, wove a material hymn to the humanity of who we are.

Cars and Flags - the Stories of Material Reality

2009-06-30T11:30:00.000-07:00

Cruising down the main drag (the only drag, actually) of Laughlin, NV, a bevy of bright and shiny classic cars is visible through the glass walls of The Riverside Casino Resort. Each time Doug and I pass by, on our way to Harrah's or the Tropicana Express further down the road, one of us says, "We should go see that." And the other always replies, "Good idea." Well, this time we finally did, and we were right, it was a good idea.

The cars we saw from the road are a part of Don Laughlin's Classic Auto Museum. No, that's not a typo. Laughlin, the town, is a made up place and Don Laughlin, the man, made it up. It was created, just like Las Vegas, for gambling and related enterprises. There is no natural reason, like being a port or an old time stagecoach stop, for it to exist. So, in this made up place, The Museum is a showcase of Don Laughlin's cars, as well as several on loan from others also caught up in the Glamor of Automobiles. I admit, Doug and I are part of that infatuated crowd. While Doug oooohed and aaaaahed over muscle and other really big cars covered in chrome, I drooled, yes, drooled, over a fully restored 1930 Franklin. You know what they look like, even if you aren't a car addict. They're the sort of car that Bonnie and Clyde drove. I'd give up my need for air conditioning and comfy seats to own one of those. Of course, I might not be able to drive it. I'm just a tad over 5 feet tall and from what I could tell, the seat was not adjustable, and I probably wouldn't be able to reach the pedals. It's always the details that do me in.

But cars weren't the only thing that the Auto Museum offered. Just before the exit turnstile, on the right, in a fairly dark hallway, I spotted this:

What? A Japanese flag? Closer inspection revealed this:

Not only is this a Japanese flag displayed with honor and respect in an American Auto Museum that is a paean to American might, muscle and industry, but, it is a handmade Japanese flag. The story, according to the accompanying label, is that the flag belongs to George Peterson, who was an associate of Don Laughlin from the very beginning of when Laughlin had his harebrained idea of putting a gambling resort in an uninhabited part of the desert on the Colorado River. But prior to the Laughlin enterprise, Peterson was a WWII soldier stationed in the Pacific. One day, during the final days of the War in the Pacific, Peterson stepped outside of the mess hall to "get a breath of fresh air," and heard the angry drone of Okhas, the planes that the Kamikaze pilots flew. One of these pilots overshot his target of the nearby harbor filled with Allied warships, according to Peterson, and landed near the mess.

Peterson and several others rushed over to the plane and pulled the pilot out. For some reason, the plane had not exploded on impact, but the pilot was clearly dying of his injuries from the crash. Peterson noticed a cloth wrapped around the pilot's head, like a "ritual bandanna." Peterson remembers:

"Before the MPs got there and took over, I removed the flag and I could then clearly see that it must have been made by this poor fellow's girlfriend. It was so ironic that someone would go to such loving care, realizing their loved one was headed to certain death in these one way 'planes of death.' Her love is right there to see in every little patch of cloth and every stitch -- it's so sad."

to be cont'd tomorrow

The Four Parts of a Successful Whole

2009-06-20T07:50:00.000-07:00

In traveling, as in knitting and weaving, there are different parts. Socks have cuffs, legs, heels, feet and toes. Weavings have looms, warps, wefts, shuttles and those pesky selvages. Granted, they sometimes blur together as cuffs move into legs, warps and weft become fabric, or Taos becomes Estes Park becomes rain, hail, sleet, snow becomes Salida and retro hotels becomes 90 degrees becomes, well, you get the idea. But, in Silver City, a town I am becoming more and more fond of, I got some reminders. (And more about why I'm becoming more and more fond of Silver City in a later post.) But, for now, the reminders of what I am now calling The Four Parts of a Successful Whole:

Approach

Arrival

Enjoy

Laugh
(Never, ever forget to laugh)

Beauty, Pits and Socks

2009-06-17T06:55:00.000-07:00

See that seemingly little, spot in the lower part of this pic? That brownish rectangular something? And maybe, too, the vertical lines around it? Tiny objects, yes? Well, actually those vertical lines are upright poles, like telephone poles and that brownish rectangular something is a very big water tank, probably 20 feet tall. Maybe that can give you some idea of just how wide, more than a mile according to the AAA guidebook, this open pit mine is. Obviously, the pic shows just a section. But, still, you can see - it's big.

The mine is just outside Silver City, NM, which is where we are right now. It's the Chino mine, and has been worked since before the Spanish arrived. The story goes that a native of this area showed some of the beautiful stuff, what we call copper, that could be gathered in this area to a recently arrived Spaniard, and, well, as someone always says, the rest is history. Entire towns (Santa Rita) have been relocated, the earth has been gouged and torn open, who knows how many have died, fortunes have been made and lost, the list goes on and on like some soap opera of man's foibles and adventures and the earth's partnership in it all. It could be condemned, or it could be celebrated, but my suspicion is that, like most of life, it is way more complicated than the black and white options of condemnation or celebration.

And so, standing at the edge of this pit yesterday, I felt, in addition to the sadness of the earth being ripped apart, a sense of awe and beauty. That a hole that big can be carved into the earth is impressive. To realize that all of the rock and dirt that is now over there used to be deep inside the earth,well, the ability of things to be rearranged, brought into daylight, re-created, now, that is Awe-inspiring.

But there was something else, and that is what the pic at the top of this post is about. The pit, the wide, gaping hole itself, that sits like an open wound on the landscape, is filled with beauty. The walls, strafed by the scraping away of dirt, are underground sunsets revealed now to the sky. The colors shift as the shadows and light cross them. The immensity of this beauty, which always existed, and is only now revealed to us, now, that is awe-inspiring. That this beauty exists, independent of you or I, not needing us in the least bit for its existence, that is when beauty becomes Beauty.

There are those who argue that there is no beauty until it is recognized by us and that it is all a projection of our collective and personal needs. While I can understand this argument, I do not agree. The Beauty is always there. Our job is to recognize it. And in this great adventure that we are all on, we have choices - beauty, no beauty. Beauty, no beauty. I choose beauty, even though, like the brutal exposure of open pit mining, the process may not always be pretty. But I persist in seeking Beauty.

OTN - Knitting, a small way in which I seek beauty.

Lacey Rib socks from Wendy Johnson's new book, Socks from the Toe-Up
Yarn - Pennyrose Bambi (wool and bamboo)

Ruth - yes, beauty and wonder. And nature as inspiration. Good choices, I think.

Unexpected Critters and Cultural Transitions

2009-06-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

Doug and I spent last night in the scenic and historic little town of Salida, CO. Our hotel was a restored mid century modern and we chose, for $5.00 more, to stay in the King Suite. It was furnished with pristine retro furniture, swag lamps and olive green pinch pleated drapes. This decor, coupled with a harvest gold bathroom, reminded me of when Doug and I were preparing to get married. It was the late 60s and our primary concerns were college and stopping the war in Vietnam. Doug's mother, aunt and my mother, on the other hand, were concerned about the colors of our cookware, bath towels and sheets. Their continual question to me was, olive green or harvest gold? Finally, I said olive green, and went back to studying and protesting.

After enjoying breakfast in the Garden Room of the hotel, we drove the 12 blocks to downtown. There I found some unexpected critters.

And this one:

And my favorite:

I also found a really nice yarn and fabric store named "Fringe." There was a friendly proprietor, who came over to tell Doug that there was a "man chair", complete with magazines, where he could sit while I shopped. I thought that was funny, especially since Doug is my best guide to which yarns to buy when I get overwhelmed by all of the possibilities. I need him right there with me! I finally chose two skeins of ShiBui sock yarn in Mulberry.

So, now we're in Albuquerque and I admit to being rather grumpy. It just becomes more and more apparent to me that I am not happy in cities and suburbs. I like some emptiness around me, and a slower, quieter pace. We went to a cute little diner tonight for dinner, and when I opened the door and the music, crowd noise and general hustle and bustle hit me, I very nearly slammed the door shut. Except that Doug was right behind me, so I couldn't back up enough to do it.

I have lived in Orange County, California for my entire life. It was agricultural. It was slow. It was where my parents moved to in order to escape Los Angeles. When Doug and I chose a house, I insisted on Orange County, rather than neighboring Long Beach where we were in school, because I preferred the more rural nature of OC. Now Orange County has suburbanized, indeed, even urbanized, around me, and I'm just not happy there.

I'm missing Taos, the area around it, and the mountains of Colorado. I'm missing the quiet. I'm missing the slower pace. Sorry to be so grumpy and a bit down tonight, but I'm just a little sad, because, even though I know I'm moving on to a place where I'll be happier, it's also hard to leave the place where I've lived my entire life.

Ruth - thank you. Yes, it is a great adventure, and I wouldn't want it any other way. Wow. Visit OC? Be a tourist there? Maybe we could stay at the Disney hotel or get a place on the beach or head East? My mind boggles at the possibilities.

Estes Park Wool Festival

2009-06-14T19:21:00.001-07:00

Friday night we left Taos and headed north to Estes Park, CO. I spent Saturday happily wandering through the Estes Park Wool Festival. This is definitely a situation where a picture tells a thousand words. Here's just some of what I saw:

Hello!

The Wool Festival can be exhausting.

A Jacob ram. I'm impressed.

The grass is always greener . . .

In the end, it's all about the yarn. Stash enhancement.

Ruth - yup, hog heaven. Only in this case, it's alpacas, llamas, paco-vicunas and sheep.

AlisonH - then I probably talked with her, and yes, it's definitely scrumptious yarn.

2009-06-08T19:01:00.000-07:00

Last night we stayed in Las Vegas. No, not the glitzy Las Vegas, but Las Vegas, New Mexico, a small town at the eastern base of the Sangre de Christo mountains. It's on the old Santa Fe Trail and filled with great history. We were wandering around the Plaza when I happened to glance up. Just look what I saw:

I'm guessing that even Santa needs to hide out on vacation now and then.

After exploring Las Vegas, we headed up a back road to Taos. But, along the way, in addition to incredible scenery, we found Tapetes de Lano in Mora.

Tapetes de Lana is a wool mill and retail outlet for yarn and local weavings, primarily rugs. We got a tour through the mill and then into the store we went. I did not come away empty handed.

All of these skeins, except for the two lighter grey ones, are weaving yarns, spun in the Tapetes de Lano mill and handdyed with natural dyes in kettles over a wood fire. The fiber is wool, ranging from Karakul to Lincoln. I chose the colors based on a rug that has been singing in my head for quite awhile now. I can definitely feel my weaving mojo coming back, which is a very good thing.

And, tonight? Tonight we are in Taos.

Ruth - emerald green or chartreuse? lol

Standin' on the corner . . .

2009-06-06T19:56:00.000-07:00

We passed through Winslow, Arizona today. Yes, that Winslow.

Standin' on the corner of Winslow, Arizona
Oh, what a fine sight to see.
There's a girl, my lord, in a flat bed Ford
slowin' down to take a look at me.

Forget the guitar, it's the knitting. The knitting will get a girl everytime.

Ruth - and a good one. He finished the socks.

Dams, rivers, donkeys and socks

2009-06-05T20:37:00.000-07:00

Doug and I are on the road again. We spent today in Laughlin, Nv. on the Colorado River. After a tasty breakfast at the Harrah's buffet, we drove to Davis Dam, just north of Laughlin. You can see Laughlin, rising like some surreal city in a Sci-Fi flick, from the dam. As Doug noted, Laughlin looks a lot better at night.

After the self-guided tour around the dam, we visited the local museum. I love local museums. Often funny, always informative, they offer a view into not only the history of the area, but also how the locals see themselves and what they consider important. At this little museum, we found a rather feisty looking critter:

I soon realized why he might be feisty when I read the sign perched on top of him:

I know that I, for one, am certainly glad to have that cleared up. Who knew that it was even a rumor?

And, finally, OTN:

Some quick and easy kid's socks from Lamb's Pride worsted and for the Wendy Knits! Toe-up Socks KAL on Ravelry, Lacey Ribs using yet another beautiful yarn from The Yarnarian called Bambi, merino wool and bamboo.

Tomorrow, a nice drive across Arizona to Holbrook, land of the dinosaurs.

Ruth - There's plenty of room there in the back seat. Just move the yarn and the books.I love to take pics.

He's Definitely A Keeper . . .

2009-05-28T20:11:00.000-07:00

There was an unusual sight tonight, at a house not known for the ordinary. Yet, even for this house, the brown house on the corner, this was, well, never quite seen before. There was a man on the roof:

Now this, in and of itself, is not enough to be truly odd for this house. But, what is he doing?

Praying to the night gods? Signaling a friend two houses down? Some newfangled method of fishing?

Maybe if we follow that thread down . . .

Past his feet, past the eaves of the house, keep going. Going. Going.

Further . . .

Stop. There it is. The reason this man is on the roof.

A twirling sock!!!!!!!!

If you work with yarn, you know that sometimes it can get over twisted and the best way to untwist it is to let the sock or sweater or whatever dangle while you hold the ball of yarn up high. Well, through a process way too silly and complicated to explain here, I over twisted this yarn. So, no problem, right? But what if the length of yarn is too long for you to hold? And too long even if you stand on a chair? So you wait for DH, because he is taller, but it's even too long for him? Even if he's on a chair, or a ladder? And knowing that he just needs to be up higher, he tries standing on a table. Still not high enough, and so, like the amazing husband and
knitting/fiber/weaver enabler that he is, he just hops up on the roof and the yarn untwists perfectly?

Is he a keeper or what?
Yeah.

To the several request I received, either in comments or by eMail, sorry, he's not for rent. I know a good thing when I have one! :)

AlisonH - sometimes I marvel at my blessings.

Rapunzel

2009-05-21T16:30:00.000-07:00

This is Bear being silly. He knows that the name of this yarn is Rapunzel, so he thought . . . well, you can see for yourself what he thought. This is the yarn I'm going to use for the SM round six socks. What? You thought just because I was out of the competition, I'd stop knitting the socks? Silly you.

And the Winner Is . . .

2009-05-19T09:56:00.000-07:00

Well, the winner is definitely not me. At least, not in terms of being the last knitter knitting in Sock Madness. I finished the socks, a great pattern titled Dimpled Diamonds, but not in time to be one of the four who moved into the next round. Can't really say that I'm upset by that, although it was exciting to compete. But, my hands and shoulders are sore and the index finger on my left hand is stiff, time to slow down and even, gasp! rest a bit now and then. What a great event, though. I'll write more about that later, but, for now, here are the socks:

Dimpled Diamonds by Deborah Swift and MountainMom Designs
Yarn: Alexa by PennyRose Yarns; 80% superwash wool, 20% nylon
Ndls: US # 0 and 1.5, 2 circs

I really, really enjoyed knitting these socks and am generally pleased with the way they fit and look. As promised, it is a great pattern for showing off variegated yarn. It was a new cast-on for me, Judy's Magic CastOn, one that is highly revered among toe-up sock knitters. It was easy enough to do, but I kept getting funny little bumps are either edge of the toe. You can see them in the photo. Also, notice how the top edges roll? There's three rows of purls before the bind off and the designer suggested using the smaller needle for that. Probably should have followed the suggestion. But, these are socks I would knit again and that roomy box toe suits my stubby feet just fine.

I also finished up a pair of what I'm calling, Just Basic Socks. Somewhere around round 2 of Sock Madness, I thought, hmmmmmm, there is bound to be some toe-up socks coming soon, maybe I should try some first and get the hang of them? So, I used Wendy D. Johnson's generic toe-up pattern and knit these:

Wendy Knits! Generic Toe-up Pattern

Yarn: Steinbach Wolle, Strapaz; 80% wool, 20% polyamid
Needles: US #1, 4 DPNs

Irony is, by the time I finished these yesterday, I'd done three other toe-up socks in SM. BUT, I'm glad I started them and had the basic idea in my head before being hit by the SM ones. I really like these socks. They use a provisional cast-on and a sort of heel-like toe which I found super simple to do, and easy to adjust to fit my boxy toes. This was my first short-row heel, but, again, I found it really easy, although I now know some better ways to handle the Wrap and Turn part. The yarn is self-patterning. All of those stripes and what-look-like-images are a part of the dyeing of the yarn, so knitting is just basic stockinette stitch. I guess it would be possible to make them match, but ever since I started knitting socks many, many moons ago, I've liked the idea that because I'm making them, I don't have to be stuck with another person's notion of how I should dress. Just me, I guess, but a definite advantage to making your own clothes. I'm thinking that I'll keep a pair like these on the needles at all times for easy pick up knitting.

Well, SM competition may be over for me, but there are still at least two patterns left. Next one comes out Wednesday evening. I'll take a look, and, probably, start knitting. Meanwhile, as my mother-in-law was fond of saying about me, I have plenty to go on with.

See you later!

When I should be knitting . . .

2009-05-15T15:39:00.000-07:00

This is just too funny. I'm goofing off and reading blogs instead of finishing up my socks for Sock Madness. Hey, sometimes I need a break. Anyway, I wandered over to The Yarnarian and she had this quiz about what state should you live in? For no real reason at all, I took the quiz. Here's what I got:

You Should Live in New Mexico

If you don't want to live in New Mexico, you might also consider:

Arkansas

Delaware

Maryland

Michigan

Missouri

What State Should You Live In?

Now, that is funny. Because as many of you know, we are planning a move to northern New Mexico soon.

Back to knitting.

Arkansas?

Sock Madness - Round 5

2009-05-12T16:57:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day of round 5 in Sock Madness. The pattern was already in my mailbox when I got up at 6 this morning. Started immediately by learning a new cast on, since a specific one was called for and the pattern must be followed exactly. A bit frustrating, especially at that hour, but I persevered and learned it. Knit part of the morning, and all of this afternoon to get to here:

Isn't it wonderful? The colors are a little softer than they appear on my monitor. The yarn is PennyRose by The Yarnarian. The design is Dimpled Diamonds by mtnmom on Ravelry. I'll post all of the info when I get them done. But, now, back to knitting.

Socks, Socks Everywhere!

2009-05-11T10:46:00.000-07:00

Now this is someone who understands that socks, or more precisely in this case, maybe leggings, tights AND socks, are not just for keeping warm. Socks are a statement. Socks give information about the wearer. Socks can say, I'm different and proud of it! Socks can say, "well, la-de-dah, just look at me!"

This is an Okapi, a mammal who, while it resembles a zebra, is actually a member of the giraffe family. This one is at the Wild Animal Park in Escondido and I could not get over her socks - or at least that's what they seem like to me. Socks! According to the helpful info provided by the Park, it's not certain what purpose the strong stripes serve for this animal. One suggestion is that it may make it easier for the young Okapi to follow his mom. Well, maybe. But all I can say is that it's obvious to me that those zoologists have never, ever knit or worn a wonderful pair of handpainted socks with colors dancing up their legs. Nope. It's socks. Pure and simple. Here's a side view:

Another impressive thing about Okapis is that their tongue, according to the helpful brochure, is long enough that they can use it to wash their eyes and ears with it. Not sure I'm as envious about that as their socks, but, still, it could be helpful since, while they do have socks, they don't seem to have handknit washcloths.

One reason that socks are so on my mind is that tomorrow morning the pattern for round 5 of Sock Madness will be released. Back to knitting for hours on end, no gawking or stopping to admire, no casual dinner with Doug, no crossword puzzles, nope, just knitting for hours on end. It's a tough life, I know. Maybe I should join this little guy and rest? His legs are like a built-in chair. Perfect balance.

Ruth - yes, yes, I can imagine yarns dyed in the colors of the animals. So, get busy, DyerWoman! I want black and white striped socks with chestnut brown fold over cuffs and black toes. Or gray toes fading up into pink. Oh, the possibilities.

What My Mother Told Me

2009-05-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

My mother told me many, many things over the years. She was not the silent type. Nope, loud, at times obnoxious, always opinionated and fierce in her beliefs, she imparted words of wisdom to me on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. So, today, on Mother's Day, I'm sharing with you some of those words, both spoken and lived.

Be whatever you want to be, but be the very best at it that you can.
Some things just need to be bought.
If you make a mistake, just make a "thing" of it.
You don't need a pattern; make it up yourself.
Don't let anyone tell you that you're stupid.
Read. Read. Read. Then read some more.
You can hate me or love me, just don't ignore me.
Spend your money while you have it.
Collecting is good.
Making things - whether knitting, quilting, gardening, cooking, whatever - is what life is about. Life's calling you, go make something (after I'm done talking to you, of course).

So, to all the mothers and their children, (because it's a shared occupation, you know)

whether it's obvious that you're connected

or sometimes you wonder . . .

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!

Dragons, Warthogs and Taking a Break

2009-05-09T08:19:00.000-07:00

Doug and I took advantage of the break between Sock Madness rounds and visited the Wild Animal Park, just north of San Diego in Escondido. I'll post some pictures over the next few days of animals and birds and the extraordinary creativity that goes into making them, wherever or whomever or however you might think that happens. Still, whatever your notion of how they get this way, the results are mind-boggling and seem hard to put down to mere (mere?) survival of the fittest. But, enough, don't get me going on this. And, anyway, the first photo I want to share with you is about the creativity of our own species. Just look at this:

This is a a dragon, a serpent? What would YOU call it? He's made from truck tires, split in half and painted. He slithers along the edge of a drive-through at a McDonald's in Escondido. Note that his colors are in keeping with the color scheme of McDonald's in general. Wonder if the corporate bigwigs have seen him? I think I should make a pair of socks to honor him. Hmmm, zig-zag, McDonald's Dragon Socks, have to include those teeth somehow.

And, next, someone I spotted at the Wild Animal Park. Tucked in, quiet, minding his own business, not even budging as I stared and snapped his photo. I felt we were kindred souls. This is me after a Sock Madness bout:

Thank you, Mr. Warthog, for saying it all.

Round 3, and, gasp! Round 4

2009-05-05T17:40:00.000-07:00

Never in my wildest dreams did I think this would happen. First, I'm participating in a sock knitting contest. But, the surprising part? I not only made it to round 2, which was my goal, but now I have actually made it to, drumroll please, round 5. Yup, round 5. Amazing.

So, when last I left you, I had completed the beautiful Fair Isle socks, Tokena. I've done two more pair since then - Talia's Wings and Lucky Diamonds - rounds 3 and 4 respectively.

Talia's Wings, designed by Yarnyenta on Ravelry, is a combination of knits and purls and crossed stitches. Those crossed stitches about did me in. But the yarn I used, Shelley from PennyRose, was a joy to work with. These ended up being waaaaay too small for me, but I have a person in mind to gift them to. She'll be surprised because I only just recently met her, but had that instant recognition of a kindred soul. Hope she likes the socks.

Talia's Wings
Shelly from PennyRose yarn
US ndls #1

The next pair, Lucky Diamonds, is designed by Melissa Goodale, StickChick on Ravelry. They are a combination of stockinette stitch, seed stitch and small cables. I knit them with Noro Silk Garden Sock Yarn and Hand Jive Nature Palette fingering yarn. Someone on the SockMadness list dubbed them "the socks that would never end" and in some ways this was true. Those acres and acres, or so it seemed, of seed stitch did seem endless. I was surprised, because I thought it was the cables that would give me problems. But the little cables were actually fun, combined with the slip sts, and I really like the technique. In the end, it was, of course, worth it. I absolutely love these socks and really enjoyed watching the colors of the Noro yarn evolve.

Lucky Diamonds
Noro Silk Garden Sock Yarn
Hand Jive's Natural Palette Fingering weight
US ndls #1 and 2

And right now? I'm resting my hands, my shoulders, my neck, and even my rear. It all hurts from such prolonged sitting and knitting. Ah, the joys of sock competition!

Stranded Knitting

2009-04-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

Round 2 of Sock Madness is completed for me. The Fair Isle socks, Tokena, are knit and I love them. I love stranded knitting. This is a complete surprise to me, having resisted it for ages, mostly because, well, it sounds silly at my age, but, that's what my mother knit. So there, I've said it and proven that pushing 60 does not necessarily make me a wise woman. Of course, the main thing I didn't like about my mom's Fair Isle, or stranded knitting, socks, was that they never fit. They were beautiful socks, but she was much more concerned about the color than the fit. So, I had this idea that Fair Isle socks were tourniquet socks, with strands of yarns constantly threatening my circulation. That is, if I could even get them on. But, I have discovered that "Oh, don't worry about it, Linda. Just give them a tug and twist them around, you'll get used to it" is NOT a norm with these socks. Although, I do have to give a tug over my heel, once on they fit perfectly and are so comfy and warm. Can't wait until next winter when I can wear them and appreciate their double layer insulation.

Tokena by Zemi on Ravelry
Wildfoote Luxury Sock Yarn by Brown Sheep Company, Inc
1 skein each: Bark Cloth, Carmel
75% Washable Wool/2% Nylon
US #1 DPNs

That's Doug's foot behind me and the socks. It's his hint that he, too, wants a pair of Tokena socks. I'm thinking charcoal and gray.

You'll notice that I vacillate between calling the Tokenas "Fair Isle" and "stranded knitting." I'm new to this game, but it seems that Fair Isle is actually a specific type of colourwork indigenous to the Fair Isles. My understanding is that no more than two colors are used in any one row and, of course, there are traditional patterns. Stranded knitting is a more generic term, referring to the strands of yarn that travel across the back of the knitting as the colors change in the pattern. While I prefer saying "stranded knitting," since it is a more generic term, I slip into "Fair Isle," because that seems to be the more common term. But "Fair Isle" denies The Fair Isles their uniqueness and ignores that other cultures and places have also used this technique. I think it's the conundrum of a global consciousness: How to acknowledge individuality while being inclusive?

And, along those lines of stranded knitting, location and local traditions, Doug and I discovered this shoe tree out by Amboy, a small town in the Mojave desert in Southern California. No, not a shoe tree like those things you can put in your shoes to keep their shape or stretch them a bit. No, this is a desert tradition, although I'm sure they appear in other places as well. A shoe tree is where, for some reason I'm not sure that I even want to know, people toss their shoes up into a tree, where they get snagged on a branch and hang there seemingly forever. Here's the one in Amboy:

A little closer look, so you can see the shoes, laces tied together and flung up into the tree, like some ancient offering to the tree gods, nature, the Fates?

Why these shoes? What was given up when these shoes were thrown to the desert gods? A biker guy, walking away from the tree as we approached it, told Doug, "I gave it a pair of dog-chewed boots." That's a memory, not just a pair of boots, now hanging on a tree in the desert.

And what about stranded knitting, stranded in the desert?

Fair Isle is where you find it.

Sock Madness - Round 2

2009-04-06T13:39:00.000-07:00

Well, we're off and knitting, once again. Sock Madness, round 2, is under way. Pattern came out early Saturday morning, Pacific time. And, there are knitters who are already finished. I absolutely do not understand that. How can that be? Don't these people sleep? Eat? Pet the cat? What I do understand is that I am not one of them, although I am pleased with my progress and very happy with the socks.

The socks are titled "Tokena." The designer is Tricia Weatherston, Zemi on Ravelry. The design is based on Maori baskets and it is a spectacular design, done in stranded knitting.

This is my second go-around with stranded knitting and I really, really like it. My first was the Fair Isle Tam, here. I am so glad that I had done that before these socks. Here's my first Tokena sock finished, except for grafting the toes.

Isn't that a great pattern? One of my accomplishments so far on this sock is that my left hand is finally getting comfortable with handling its yarn. Up until now, I have felt like one of those dance scenes in movies where the one dancer (usually the guy) is counting off the steps, but there is no rhythm to the whole thing. Could be a waltz, could be a cha-cha, could be country. Doesn't matter, just follow the count. That's the way my stranded knitting has been, nice even count, with occasional pauses for readjusting the yarn, but no rhythm. Now, finally, my hands are dancing to the rhythm rather than the count.

Enough. I have knitting to do.

Visiting Ganesh

2009-03-31T10:09:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week, I spent a wonderful day at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Carpinteria, CA. watching a friend and classmate defend her dissertation and be awarded her doctoral degree. It had been awhile since I'd been back on campus and it was a bit odd. So much has shifted in my life since I was defending my own dissertation, and yet, here it was, the familiar buildings, trees and retreat-like atmosphere. But I found a way to bring my current life to the old. I revisited Ganesh.

Ganesh is a Hindu god, a wonderful and very popular god. He is the god of scholars and writers and also thieves. All of this goes a long way towards explaining his popularity on the Pacifica campus. Each month as I arrived on campus, I would head for Ganesh, thank him for the inspiration over the prior month, ask for his help over the next few days of classes, and offer him a peppermint candy. Other students had similar rituals, so Ganesh is usually covered with offerings. This time, I not only took him a peppermint, but I took him my knitting. First, I showed him my toe-up socks. He seemed delighted and tried it on, since, well, that's what you can do with toe-up socks.

Next, I offered my knit-on-2-circs socks. He wasn't that impressed and I can see why. They don't really look like socks yet. But he did enjoy using them as a sort of flag, or rhythm maker.

Next, my mitered socks. He laughed. I explained that they will be socks. He laughed, pointing out the obvious - it is a skinny strip. I said, you just wait. He said he would. And then he laughed again. I was reminded that in ancient times, the dictum was not "Thou shalt not lie," but "Thou shalt not be lied to."

And, lastly, I shared my entrelac scarf. This he liked. Soft. Pretty. Looks woven. "Don't forget," he said, "that you're a weaver."

But, of course, he still laughed, because Ganesh is also a writer and he knows the start of a good story when he hears one.

Getting faster, better and having even more fun than before

2009-03-26T18:24:00.000-07:00

The people in my neighborhood are often referred to by description rather than a proper noun: the guy with the surfboards, the one who works outside a lot, the house with the red tile roof or the one on the corner with the clock out front. I often wonder how I'm described and I'm convinced that it's something like, "the one with the cats and all of that yarn." That's probably on a good day. Other times, I suspect it's more like "the strange lady on the corner." Well, all I can say is, if they only knew . . .

Knitting is one thing. Knitting socks is another. But Sock Madness? It is aptly named and would surely earn me a moniker beyond "strange" if I told the neighbors. You see, Sock Madness isn't just about knitting socks. It's about knitting socks fast. Fast. I mean, fast. Fashioned after March Madness, which I'm barely familiar with, 200 sock knitters are divided into 4 divisions. At a set time, a sock pattern is released via email to these knitters and, ladies (it seems to be all women), ladies, start knitting!

I am one of those sock knitters this year. Now, I am by nature slow. I like slow. One of the reasons that I want to leave Orange County is that I want more slow. What I didn't know about me is that I am also competitive. I received the pattern on Thursday, finished on Sunday. For me, Thursday to Sunday for a pair of socks is mighty fast knitting. Not so for others. One knitter in my division posted that she received the pattern on Thursday, began to knit, and sixteen (16!!!) hours later, well, she had a new pair of socks.

But, I am encouraged. I was among the first 10 (as near as I can tell) to finish in my division. My goal was to make it to round two, and I've done that. And, as promised, I have learned so many new things. A new cast on, a new pattern, a new heel. Most of all, I've learned that I can speed up my knitting and still enjoy it. Pretty good, I think.

Meanwhile, I have a new pair of socks:

Tropical Mer-Tini by Raspberry on Ravelry
Pace Step by Universal Yarn
Wool/polyamide
US #1 ndls

And, remember the mitered scarf I wanted to finish before Sock Madness began? Well, I finished it:

The Yarnarian Mitered Scarf KAL
Blue Heron Yarns
Cotton/rayon/metallic
US #6 ndls

I'm thinking that my knitting is improving. Yes. And I like that.

Miters and Madness

2009-03-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

On my needles right now - a mitered scarf. It's what I'm knitting as part of The Yarnarian's Mitered Scarf KAL. I'm using a rayon/cotton/metallic yarn from Blue Heron Yarns.

And I really like the way it's working up.

This is a great technique, with way too many possibilities. The mind reels. But, I can't be distracted. I'm trying to get this done before Sock Madness III.

I can't even explain SMIII, mainly because I've never done it before. Suffice it to say that it's about a crazy bunch of knitters knitting socks in competition, giving up sleep, social niceties and personal grooming in order to move through the rounds and ultimately win. At least, that's what I've been told. Win what? I'm not sure, although there are prizes. I know that I'm in Division 4 (although division 3 has not yet been posted; just 1,2 and 4) I know that I have sorted and gathered my sock yarns, needles, and other accessories and am alternating between excitement and dread. Here's the official site. I'll keep you posted on my own adventure.

Happy Cat

2009-03-08T20:25:00.001-07:00

"It's Sunday. Thank you, God, for warm sunny days" says SarahCat.

Hello?

2009-03-05T14:11:00.000-08:00

Remember when Pooh hollered down the hole for Rabbit, was invited in, ate quite a bit of honey and condensed milk, foregoing the bread that Rabbit offered so as not to appear greedy, and then got stuck in the hole as he tried to leave? And how Pooh had to stay there until he got thinner and meanwhile, Rabbit hung his washing on the south end of Pooh while Christopher Robin read a Sustaining Book at the north end? We can only hope that SarahCat does not meet that fate.

Shaped Shawl Completed

2009-03-04T18:02:00.000-08:00

Remember this shawl? I've been knitting it forever it seems. It is the one that had the runaway yarn. And, one more adventure before it became a shawl.

I was in a meeting at church, knitting on the shawl and also petting my minister's Shih Tzu, a dog bred specially for sitting in laps, and whom I absolutely adore. His name is Gandalf and he is a regular at church meetings. Gandalf often sits up in a chair, looking around at fellow attendees, generally approving or disapproving of the proceedings. Well, our group went into prayer that morning and I rested my hands, and my knitting, in my lap. And then I felt it, just a little tug, a slight tug. Quietly, hopefully unnoticed, I tugged back. An answering tug. I knew better than to tug again. So, throughout the prayer, I just noticed the yarn tighten a bit, then loosen, tighten a bit, loosen, until someone said "Amen" and my minister and another attendee began laughing and announced that Gandalf had run off with my yarn. Yes, he had. Not just run off with it, but wound it through legs of chairs, under the tables, through a door, around more chairs, under a desk, and right into the minister's office where he had curled up in his bed, the now much smaller ball of yarn tucked in beside him.

What can I say? The yarn was retrieved, with great laughter from all of us, and the meeting continued.

This shawl has history, even before it has been worn. And, while I wondered the entire time that I was making it, who it was for, now I know. Amazingly, it's for me. It fits great, is luscious to wear and is a perfect symbol for my life, my travels, and adventures right now. It feels special to have a shawl that I have made, for me, by me. Thank you, God, for unexpected gifts.

The Technical Stuff
Yarn: Cherry Tree Hill Oceano
Pattern: Weaver's Wool Mini Shawl by Peggy Pignato
Changes to pattern: I worked the shawl in stockinette rather than garter stitch and made it longer. I added a three st garter st border around the edges and a garter st border at the bottom.

Hats! I've got Hats!

2009-03-03T18:27:00.000-08:00

While I may not have been blogging lately, I have certainly not been just lying around watching TV and eating bonbons. (Anyone else remember the Roseanne episode about that? Oh, well.) No, I've been knitting. And one thing that I've been knitting is hats.

First I did this purple tam. I started it on our trip to Taos, worked on it in the evenings and learned a lot about knitting in the round. It was knit from the center out and looked a bit like a frisbee cover while in progress. Hopefully, it looks better on my head. I think so. I'm really pleased with the way it turned out, and it's fun to wear.

Technical stuff
Yarn: Cascade Yarns/Pastaza/50% llama, 50% wool
Pattern: Beret Easy

Next was a Fair Isle tam. I had never done Fair Isle, but some members of the PennyRoses group on Ravelry were doing it as a knit-along, so I joined. It took awhile to get my left and right hands coordinated, but about midway through it started to work. Like the purple tam, I'm pleased and will definitely try another one.

Technical stuff
Yarn: Rowan Tapestry and Felted Tweed
Pattern: Frances

There are some in this family who just don't get what is so exciting about hats. Much more interested in sneaking up on Spring.

Apologies

2009-02-09T09:48:00.001-08:00

I want to apologize for the comment left on the earlier blog about the cow. I'm using a new comment software and, obviously, did not get everything in order before I clicked on "Go." Should be taken care of now. Again, my apologies for any uncomfortableness that it caused.

New Mexico Cows

2009-02-06T07:25:00.000-08:00

Remember when I wrote here about our encounter with the cow in the road when Doug and I were in New Mexico last October? Well, there's just something about New Mexico and cows. Saw this sign up in the ski areas above Taos. Makes you wonder.

AlisonH is knitting

2009-02-02T20:54:00.000-08:00

More than once, I've referred to AlisonH in this blog and her wonderful book, Wrapped in Comfort. The blue lace shawl is from one of the patterns in that book. Well, Alison has faced some very serious health challenges over the last few weeks. There were times when I thought, well, maybe it's time, how much can a body take? And yet . . .

Today there is extraordinary news. Alison is knitting. You can read about it here. Go. Visit. Rejoice. Be grateful that Alison is knitting. In the karmic balance of things, or in just in the tough times we are facing, that AlisonH is knitting puts life a little more in balance. Thank you, God, for Grace and Beauty and Joy and Love.

Round and Round Makes a Hat

2009-01-31T07:37:00.000-08:00

As promised, here is a picture of the hat I am making.

Well, it may not look like much now, but you just wait.I'm very excited about making it. I've never done this technique before, where you start in the center on DPNs and work out flat. So far, I'm really intrigued. The yarn is Cascade Pastaza, 50% llama, 50% wool, a deeper purple than in the picture. First try was on #8s, but the stitches looked all squished, so I went up to #9s. I think they look happier now. Pattern formed by the incs also shows up better. Then, I realized the DPNs I was using were too short, so Doug and I found a yarn shop in Santa Fe (not exactly a difficult thing to do) and I got some longer ones. Started out using 4 needles, just now switched over to 5 as the diameter of the hat increases.

Today we're leaving Santa Fe and going on to Taos. I'm excited to see Taos with snow.

On the road again . . .

2009-01-29T06:48:00.000-08:00

We're traveling again, on the road to Taos for a winter view. Last night we were in Holbrook, AZ. Cold, but no snow. Just bright clear sunshine glinting off the frost. Across the field, there's a warning I intend to heed, seems as though the little green guy didn't and met his fate. Sometimes it's worth following directions.

OTN: A hat, I'll post when I have photos, probably tonight at the hotel and the purplish lacy shawl continues.

THINKING ABOUT: SOCKS! Right before we left, I got my SOTM yarn from the Yarnarian. It has looooong color segments.

Hmmm, I'm focusing on modular and lace this year. Lace? No, not for this yarn. Modular? How about entrelac? Add a few other touches? Maybe contrasting heels, toes? The Muse is calling. More news as this story develops.

Finally!

2009-01-25T19:07:00.000-08:00

Some projects take awhile. Others go easy. And then there are those that fight all the way. The first of these socks just whizzed along, happy to be made, kudos for creating a new design by mistake. The second? It just loved that frog pond and couldn't stay away. Even when it was done, just as I was photographing it, I noticed a funny little thread. Closer inspection revealed that somehow or another, when I added in a yarn, I left a hole that was now threatening to unravel. HUH? And, you may be asking, why did I need to add in yarn? Because, when I finished the first sock, instead of switching over to the second ball of yarn, I just continued on with the first, which, of course, meant that I ran out of yarn and had to add in. Grrrrrr.

But, they are done. I like them, in spite of their attitude, or maybe because of it, and am pleased with my first attempt at designing socks. Learned a lot. On to the next pair. Wait until you see what I have planned.

Specs: R yarn, 100% wool, size 2 bamboo DPN needles

Already two weeks into 2009

2009-01-12T15:06:00.000-08:00

I can't believe that it's almost two weeks into 2009 and I haven't even posted. I have the feeling that this year is going to be one of those times that just sweeps by. I seldom make resolutions, but I do take time to be still and notice if any themes seem to be wanting to come forward. This year I have heard "Finishing Up," and "Working Studio Artist." I can go with those.

So, in the continued interest of "Finishing Up," here are some projects I've completed in the first two weeks of '09. All of these are from my stash, or my mom's stash that I inherited. First, the socks from the Yarnarian's KAL. I thoroughly enjoyed working on these, in spite of trips to the pond several times. They were so worth the effort:

Then there's the scarves I'm making for gifts. First one is Black Wool-Ease from my mom's stash, in a simple K3, P3. Next is a diagonal pattern in shiny rayon yarns from my Mom's stash. I googled the yarns, both Bernat,and neither are made anymore. And last, a WIP, with one down and the other on the way, my Julia-Inspired socks. (You hang in there, Alison. I'm praying for you with every stitch.)

So far, I like the way 2009 is shaping up.

Finishing up

2008-12-30T15:31:00.000-08:00

Just as 2008 is finishing up, I'm finishing up some projects that have been left on their own for far too long. Number one is the Julia Shawl that I actually finished knitting several weeks ago, but couldn't seem to get around to weaving in the ends and blocking it. So, today is the day. It's knit with a yarn called Chispa, cotton with dashes of acrylic, so I'm not sure that it even needs to be blocked, but I felt like it needed some sort of something (how's that for a technical approach to finishing?). So, I washed it with Eucalan, figuring that after being hauled around on two trips and sat on by SarahCat many, many times, it probably could use a light wash. Then I laid it out on two cardboard cutting boards used for cutting out fabric, covered them with a waterproof tablecloth and put them on my outdoor worktables. I planned on pinning it out, but it didn't really seem to need it. Here's how it looks so far. I am so excited and so pleased with this.

Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll have pictures of me wearing it.

Normal

2008-12-27T16:50:00.000-08:00

Seen on a refrigerator magnet in the gift shop of our hotel:

"Normal" is a cycle on a washing machine.

Kind of says it all, I think.

A Turquoise Christmas

2008-12-25T09:07:00.000-08:00

As soon as my cold waned, Doug and I began planning where we would go for Christmas. The weather had been erratic for So Cal, so choices were somewhat narrowed, but with good planning, we still had a wide range of options. We chose Las Vegas, left home a day early to avoid being blocked by possible closed passes due to an upcoming storm and made it easily into Nevada, admiring the snowy landscape created by the prior storm along the way.

So, two days ago found me at the front desk of the Tropicana Hotel on The Strip in Vegas. The clerk, Sand, was very friendly. We chatted while she did the necessary paperwork, and she gave us an upgrade on our room since Christmas isn’t exactly a prime tourist time in Vegas. She handed me our keys, explained the route to our room, which required both sides of an 81/2” by 11” sheet of paper. I fetched Doug, complete with suitcase, knitting bag, camera and laptop and off we went. I led the way, map in hand, past the craps tables, through a maze of clanging slot machines, up an escalator, across a bridge spanning the tropical-themed pool area, and around the corner to the elevator area painted bright strawberry yogurt pink and emblazoned with parrots sitting amongst big green leaves on a vine curling across the elevator doors. Up we went. Up all the way to the 18^th floor, where we exited, turned right and finally entered our room. We were greeted by a large window looking out at The Strip, bamboo furniture and bamboo framed mirrors on the walls behind and to the side of the bed and on the ceiling overhead. (Hey, it’s Vegas.)

I was ooohing and aaahing at the view when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Linda? This is Sand from the front desk. Are you missing a purse?”

I knew instantly, without even checking.

“A small blue Guatemalan bag?”

“Yes. What are some contents in it that could identify it?”

“A chunk of turquoise and some loose change.”

“Yes, that’s it. I have it right here. Someone picked it up and brought it to the desk and I just knew that it was yours. I’ll send it over to Security. You can pick it up there.”

I thanked her again and she repeated how she had just known, somehow, that it was mine.

Back to the pink elevator, across the bridge over the pool, down the escalator, and right there at the bottom, as Sand had explained, was the Security booth. I explained who I was and the situation. The Security agent asked for ID. I gave him my Driver’s License and he peered at it. After a few moments, he explained that he didn’t doubt my ID, but that he had forgotten his glasses that day and it took a bit for him to read it. We both laughed about the vagaries of age, he handed me my little purse, wrapped securely in an envelope and officially labeled with my name and off I went, back through the maze that led to our room.

I find this to be an amazing story. An anonymous stranger found my little purse, turned it into the desk where the clerk who had checked me in just “knew” that it was mine and contacted me immediately. It’s not that the little purse is so valuable – the change in it is less than a dollar, and while the chunk of turquoise has some monetary value, its value to me is symbolic and sentimental. No, this is a Christmas story.

The Christmas story tells us that we are touched by something far greater than ourselves. When we open to and accept that, something is birthed that blesses and redeems our lives. By listening and looking closely, and by believing, we can be led to this Presence and honor it with our gifts, the gifts that in Truth, are gifts from that Presence. I call this Presence “God.” Others may call it Spirit, Life, Universal Power, Goddess, or maybe not have a name for it, just know that there is something more than us as individuals. And in that “something more,” we are blessed and share our gifts of Love and Beauty and Joy in our connectedness. Today I say thank you to God for the sharing of the Turquoise with people I didn’t think I knew. Thank you, God, for this shared moment. Thank you, God, for the connection of the One. Thank you, God, for Christmas

Merry Christmas to All of You, however and wherever you are sharing this day!

Daughter of the Sun

2008-12-13T13:49:00.000-08:00

It's the perfect day to read, and, of course, knit. It's overcast, threatening rain, the wind is blustering and since I have a cold, I am sticking to a regimen of plenty of fluids (hot herb tea) and rest. While rest has meant a few naps, I also had the perfect book.

A few weeks ago at church, I shared my love of northern New Mexico and Arizona, their landscapes and juxtaposition of peoples. Our book store manager came up to me after the service, telling me that she would bring me a book that I might like. Thank you, Sallie! Because Daughter of the Sun by Barbara Wood, is a book that I might not pick out for myself, since I tend more toward metaphysical, history, psychology and away from novels. But this one has me rethinking my ways.

Daughter of the Sun is set in the place known today as Chaco Canyon. When Barbara Wood, the author, visited there, she was taken not only by the landscape, but also by the mystery and the stories. Chaco Canyon is known as a site of Abandonment, one of several sites in the southwest that were mysteriously abandoned by Puebloan people. The definitive answer as to why a seemingly thriving culture would suddenly leave has not been found, although theories abound. Wood decided that she needed to come up with an answer of her own, and Daughter of the Sun was born.

Wood has done her research, and her use of the history and geography of the place is a firm structure within which the plot unfolds. Daughter of the Sun is a love story, the traditional attraction of two people, Hoshi'tiwa, a member of the Tortoise clan and Jakal, a Toltec who worships Quetzalcoatl, who are separated by ethnicity, caste and responsibility. Now, we all know where that leads to in love stories, but credit Wood's development of these two characters, I kept rooting for their love to triumph all the way through. Daughter of the Sun is also a story of everyday people making their way in difficult times, people like Yellow Feather, stolen from her clan and using her body and wits as a way to survive. It's a story of irresponsible, ego-ridden leadership and petty bureaucrats only interested in themselves who live through the selling of political favors (hmmm, this is sounding way too familiar.) It's a story of belief in something greater
than themselves,whether kachinas, Quetzalcoatl or family and, an appearance of a new, for these people, idea of Oneness. But mostly, it is a story of change that is not without pain but does also offer hope.

Given my own predilection towards the philosophy that we are all connected and One, and my passion for making as praying, I was especially taken by the heroine's role as a potter in the unveiling of this Truth. It is through her dedication to and belief in the practice of making sacred rain jars, that she finds direction, meaning and purpose.

Daughter of the Sun is entertaining and an enjoyable read. It fits all of my needs for metaphysics and history, yet offers a rich story too. The history that it rests in is an added bonus that adds to its richness. It's a perfect read for an indoor sort of day.

One morning while walking . . .

2008-12-12T08:52:00.000-08:00

Yuck. Hack. Cough. Sneeze. My body has decided to do the let's-have-a-cold-thing. So, while looking around for more pleasant things to think about, I came upon these photos that I took on our latest trip to Taos. I was out walking, and this is some of what I found:

Horsepower

When East meets West

Kit Carson
Died May 1868
Aged 59 years

Lights

Isn't Life amazing?

Of Rattlesnakes and Manicured Lawns

2008-12-10T09:28:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, I attended my church's annual retreat. This year it was held at Rancho Capistrano in San Juan Capistrano. It's a beautiful setting with manicured lawns, a man made lake, and mission-style architecture. Sitting on 171 acres, the surrounding land has been left natural and it is not uncommon, at the right time of the year, to see rattlesnakes.

The property has an interesting history. The promo sheet handed out by the Rancho explains that it was first owned by the Franciscans in the 1700s, reflecting California's Spanish and Mexican heritage. Unfortunately, that simple statement of "first owned by the Franciscans," reveals another part of California's heritage. Prior to the Spanish arrival, this land was not owned, in the sense that we understand ownership, by anyone. Rather it was tended by native peoples who were treated unbearably cruelly by the arriving missionaries and soldiers. Interesting to me that this beautiful retreat and conference area is surrounded by land that is home to rattlesnakes. The staff at the Rancho Capistrano seem respectful of the snakes, explaining to us that they do their best to return them to their land rather than just kill them on sight. I wish the encounter between the Spaniards, and future arrivals, and the native peoples might have been more like that.

I found the place filled with sharp metaphors like landscaped yards and rattlesnakes. In the carefully maintained grounds, there was a path that seemed to lead, well, nowhere. Nowhere, not because the hillside wasn't enticing, but nowhere because it was an area that it seemed the Rancho preferred you not to walk. Stay on the path, you know, the cement path. Or just maybe it was one of those passages to somewhere else that frequent our dreams?

The steps had been built around this tree, a Eucalyptus. The Eucalyptus is not native to California, although it is a dominant feature of the landscape today. In my own town, Westminster, the local history society says that Eucalyptus were imported from Australia and planted here to soak up the water in the wetlands. As a native Southern Californian who has experienced most of my almost 60 years here as a time of drought, it's hard for me to imagine trying to get rid of water.

At night, the Egrets gather in the Eucalyptus. The lake is right below. Nothing like having breakfast handy when the sun rises. I love Egrets. Also, Blue Herons. They are elegant, beautiful birds. But I always think they look funny in trees. More like they should be wading around in those now way-too-few wetlands.

Oh, well. At least they're safe from the Rattlesnakes in those trees.

A Travelin' Yarn

2008-12-04T09:14:00.000-08:00

Yes, it appears quiet. Empty. Peaceful. A road leading out of a parking lot, into the main street of Laughlin, NV and who knows what adventures in the nearby casinos and river? But two nights ago, it was not empty. It was not quiet. It was The Place of the Travelin' Yarn.

Stories abound in this area of gambling and mining. Get rich quick, lose it just as quick. All that glitters is not gold. We had settled in here at the Tropicana Express, a favorite hotel of mine. Great beds. Great pillows. The Colorado river. Great buffet, well, not really, but Harrah's is right down the street and *that* is Great Buffet.

Anyway, The Husband and I had settled in to relax after a tiring day of driving through beautiful scenery and stopping wherever and whenever we wanted, when Wonderful Husband realized that I really, really, needed more stuff brought in. So he volunteered to go down to the van and get it. When he returned, he proclaimed: "You, WeaverWomyn. You owe me a gazillion twice over in favors." Now, he is not usually demanding, unreasonable, or referring to me as WeaverWomyn, so of course I had to know why. And this is what he told me.

"I made my way through the hotel lobby where they are now laying carpeting in an effort to trip and flatten the tourists, and out to the van. When I approached the van, I noticed a glint. A shiny something in the moonlight." (note: probably more like the neon lights of the hotel, but oh well, the husband can be a romantic at times.) (next note: Husband is unusually fond of checking out glints in the road. He will stop and retrieve a cheap wrench, just to take a look at it and throw it away in disgust that such tools are even allowed to be made. Glints call to him. I digress. Back to Husband's story.) "I followed this glint, down along the van and watched as it disappeared up into the back right wheel well, spun around the axle and then headed out into the lane. When said glint got to the middle of the lane, it headed south, straight away, over the bump. I followed. Finally it came to rest and I realized - it was yarn. At this point, a very small ball of yarn, but very similar to that large ball of yarn you've been using for that shawl you're knitting. Picking it up, I began to wind, following that line of glint back to the wheel well, untangled it from the axle, alongside the van, straight to YOUR door. I put the ball in YOUR seat, WeaverWomyn. It's waiting for you."

Now, all of us in the know, that is, yarn-people, know that that glint was not gold, or even a cheap wrench, it was Lurex, a tiny thread of it spun into the wool. Who knew Lurex and wool could have such an adventure? Up into the wheel well and around the axle? Not even broken? No sign of tumble weeds, sand or, gasp! oil or tranny fluid? Thank you, knitting gods. I do penance today for your blessings, for my carelessness.

But wait, I didn't get out of the door at that parking space. Husband dropped me off in front of the hotel, to go check us in. Did the yarn drop out then? Ride along on the step until he parked? Then roll to the back along the running board, fall off, bounce in a mighty effort to get back up on the step, only to fall again, but now back into the dark cavern of the undercarriage, finally to escape into the bright lights of Laughlin, take off towards the casino and . . . Who knew? Who knew she with that glint of Lurex had such aspirations. Truth is, we'll never know.

She's not talking.

When Making is Praying

2008-11-30T06:46:00.000-08:00

The desert is a very wonderful and mystical place. It is also harsh and demanding. So it is no surprise to me that an artist's colony would spring up in the midst of the Sonoran desert in what is now southern Arizona.

Tubac is that colony. Inhabited for centuries by the ancestors of the present day Pima and O'odham people, it was occupied by the Spanish from 1691 - 1821. During that time, the Christian missionaries built missions and insisted on the conversion of the native peoples to Christianity. In 1751, the native peoples rebelled and all of the Tubac area settlements were destroyed. But the Spaniards regained controlled, and the area remained under Spanish rule until Mexico gained its independence from Spain in 1821. It was almost 100 years later, in 1912, that Arizona became a state, and Tubac became a part of the United States. 50 years after statehood, a new type of settler came to Tubac and, like the others, left his mark.

This new settler was Dale Nichols, and he founded the Tubac School of Art. Within 12 years, the Tubac Festival of Arts was in place, and in 1970 the Tubac Center of the Arts opened. Now, the fact that Nichols could open an Art School says to me that something along art-lines must have been already present. But, nevertheless, in the way of history demanding a nice, tidy linear timeline, Nichols is given credit for the beginning of Tubac's reputation as an Arts Colony.

Doug and I visited Tubac yesterday, including the new section called La Entrada. Only time will tell if La Entrada is a blessing or a curse. It's new and spiffy, but lacks the charm and character, the history and the suffering, the seasoned desert Beauty of Old Tubac. Hopefully, those artists who have chosen to remain in their old studios rather than moving to the new development will still be able to make it. I wonder. It looked yesterday as if most of the tourists were staying with the new, which brings me to When Making is Praying.

As an artist who knows that her work is her prayer, I know that for many artists, the prayer is to simply be able to make enough money to keep making their art. And while that prayer may sound like a victim or someone just hoping to get by, in Truth it is not.

Please, Creative Power, give me the strength, the knowledge, the skill, the ability, to Create. I am so grateful to do this. Please help me to continue. Thank you.

Here are some of the prayers I saw yesterday:

And so it is. Amen.

San Xavier del Bac

2008-11-28T18:03:00.000-08:00

Not far from Casino del Sol, where Doug and I had our great Tucson Thanksgiving dinner, is the San Xavier del Bac mission. Now, a lot can be said about the missions throughout the Southwest. To say that the native peoples were treated poorly has got to be the most obsequious understatement of all time. So it is always amazing to me how many of the missions still stand and function as a spiritual center of the community. San Xavier is one of those missions.

The stark white beauty of the mission is in direct contrast to the rougher, more subtly colored beauty of the landscape. But the day we visited, rain was present in the area and the sky and the clouds were anything but subtle.

Light and Dark. Sunshine and Shadow.

What a difference a stitch makes . . .

2008-11-27T18:17:00.000-08:00

We had a unique and wonderfully tasty Thanksgiving dinner. After we explored Tucson a bit, we headed out of town to a more open desert area and ended up at the Casino del Sol casino/resort on the Yaqui reservation. (Yes, I know. It sounds like we gamble constantly.) Doug had prime rib while I had an array of lox, crackers, fresh fruit, cheeses, and roasted corn chowder. We shared homemade tortillas and chocolate dipped strawberries. You see, it's the buffets at the Indian casinos that we really enjoy, not the gambling. It was a lot of fun, with mariachis serenading us and exactly the sort of how-could-we-ever-plan-this? sort of day that we love.

While we were at Casino del Sol, I took advantage of the good natural light and strategically placed rocks in the landscape to photograph my ventures with the Cherry Tree Hill wool yarn that I am knitting the shaped shawl with.

Here's my initial start, with garter stitch as called for in the pattern. I was really disappointed. The colors of the yarn seemed to just disappear into an all over spotty mess. The light gray dominated the other colors and washed out the whole thing.

Then I tried the same shaping, just switched to stockinette stitch. What a difference! The colors flow into one another and the darks "pop" the other colors. Yes. This is much nicer. I'm on my way.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-27T07:46:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Meister Eckhardt said long ago that, and I'm paraphrasing here, if the only prayer you ever prayed was "Thank you," that would be enough. And so, today, I say thank you. Thank you to the Spirit that gives Life and surrounds us, fills us and expresses as us in this amazing world. Thank you to my friends and family for their love and for simply being who they are. Thank you to you, for reading my blog and sharing in my life. Thank you to the four-leggeds for the lessons you teach and the awe and companionship you provide. Thank you for the plants for your Beauty and allowing me to tend you in my garden. Thank you for the wild things to remind me that I am not in control. Thank you for creativity and the ability to make things. Thank you, God, for prayer. And so it is. Amen.

On The Road Again . . .

2008-11-24T08:34:00.000-08:00

I've been carrying around a torn out page from one of those tourist magazines you get from hotel brochure racks for quite awhile. It's a writeup of a gallery called "Feminine Mystique"
in Tubac, Arizona. I went to their website and discovered that Tubac bills itself as an art colony and, it's only about 40 miles south of Tucson. Sounded like an "expetition," as Pooh and Piglet would say, to me. So, we are heading out to Tucson and Tubac for the Thanksgiving week. Yes, week. Why take a weekend when a week is beckoning? First we're stopping at Parker for some time on the Colorado River, then on to Tucson and Tubac.

The biggest challenge of traveling, for me, is deciding which projects and books to take along. Something easy for while Doug is driving. (Which is all of the time. He lives, eats and breathes cars, so isn't about to relinquish driving time to me. Okay by me. More knitting time.) But I also like to have a bit of a challenge in the evening. Hmmmmmm, decisions, decisions. Thankfully, the knitting dream gods and goddesses provided me with the list when I woke up this morning.

I'm taking this drop-dead gorgeous skein of Cherry Tree Hill Oceania to start the Weaver's Wool Mini Shawl by Peggy Pignato. Only, I'm going to make it a full size shawl. Ever since I knit the Julia shawl (pictures to be posted when I get back), I have been intrigued by shoulder shaping. Peggy's shawl is another example of this and I want to explore. So, there's the easy-while-driving project.

For a little more a challenge, I'm taking my Yarnarian KAL socks. I absolutely love how they are turning out. Love knitting the pattern so much that I forgot to decrease for the gusset. Hrrrmmmmmph. So I am now tinking back to that marker on the left. Almost there.

And, I'm taking my spinning. Going to the wool festival in Taos really inspired me to start spinning again. I have a wheel, but am enjoying carrying around my drop spindle. Perfect for travel.

Books? I have to choose yet. But other than that, I'm set. Oh. Clothes. Guess I'd better pack clothes.

Just pickin' up and leavin'

2008-11-21T14:48:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things about being retired is what my father used to call "just pickin' up and leavin'." For him, it usually referred to changing a campsite, but for Doug and I, it means heading off somewhere on the spur of the moment. Which is exactly what we did yesterday. We ended up at the Pechanga Casino/Resort, an Indian casino out by Temecula. It's one of my favorite places. I enjoy playing the slots, the buffet is a delight, but what is best is the location. It's in the foothill area with big rocks, coyotes and clear skies. A room on the 10th floor gave us a great view of it all..

But really what amazes me about the place is its rather quirky design sense. The floors are highly polished stone of some sort that, no matter how I try, remind me of old linoleum floors in bowling alleys. The lobby is a wonderful mixture of, who knows what? Leaving this morning, I just had to take some photographs, especially since Christmas is now thrown into the mix.

There are wonderful sort-of Japanese style art deco fountains, now topped by poinsettias.

Colorful mosaic columns contrast with the fountains slate gray. Outside, giant ornaments were secured in the artificial waterfall
And, eyeing it all, a mostly patient husband or, as he put it, the guy left holding the bag.

Ms PurpleSweater returns

2008-11-18T13:06:00.000-08:00

Since we got home from our vacation, Ms PurpleSweater has been languishing on the sidelines. She was a little put out that she didn't get to continue *her* story (slightly different than MY story) of our trip. But, finally, she has come out of her funk and is ready to proceed.

First, a few notes about Ms Purple's pedigree. She is also known as The Crystal Cove Pullover, designed by Jill Vosburg, owner of JustOne MoreRow.com. I love her designs and hope to knit more. The pattern calls for cotton, silk or a rayon blend, cautioning that wool may curl at the hem. But I had this wonderful yarn that I got on sale on my trip to Asilomar and I wanted to use that. (Imagine me looking stubborn right here.) So, I am using Sirdar Donegal, a wool/polyester/acrylic blend. Oh, and there is also the issue that I may not have enough because although I bought every skein they had, well, it just may not be enough. However, I refuse to see rolling hems and not enough yarn as anything but a design challenge. I know that something great will come out of this. (Did I also mention that I don't know if it will fit because its kind of hard to tell exactly when it's knit on the diagonal like this?) And - I'm making it all one color because I think my jewelry will show off better than the two colors called for in the pattern.

So, the next step is to sew the shoulder seams so that the sleeve sts. can be picked up along the edge. I thought that a light steaming might help make that an easier task, so aided by my studio assistant, that's what I did.

First, we smoothed out the edges and pinned them.

Then I explained the next step.

Hmmmm, seems to have been a slight mis-communication. Oh, well. Don't you just love the way the rows come together at angles?

Once upon a time . . .

2008-11-16T09:30:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, in the rarefied Land of Weavers, I was at a local weaving conference. Now, the highlight of most weaving conferences in those days was the fashion show. In this case, the fashion show had been rather hastily thrown together and there was concern about it happening at all. But, all of the garments appeared as well as their models, the stage was clear and the dressers were in place. Then someone noticed, where is the moderator? You know, the person who tells the audience about the garment being modeled, especially important at a weaving conference, because people want to know not only the more obvious fashion aspects of the garment, but also HOW it was made. What is the fiber? The weave structure? The sett? Wet finish? Handspun? Handdyed? Waaaaaaaay more questions than an ordinary fashion show. And now the moderator was missing.

In an act of desperation, they asked me. Now, for those of you have seen me, you know that fashion is not my strong point. Cotton pants and a tee shirt are my usual attire. Dressed up or down with great jewelry, of which I do have some really good stuff, and some hand knit or woven scarves. Hand knit socks with Birkies are also good. So, clearly, it was not my fashion expertise that they were after. However, I am a good talker, can be funny, think on my feet and do not suffer from the fear-of-speaking-in-front-of-people syndrome. So, I said yes. Besides, they assured me it would be easy. Each model, most of whom were weavers I already knew, would have a card with all of the info I needed for a reasonably intelligent description.

The first model came out and handed me her card. All of the info was there, piece of cake, I thought. And so it went through the first ten or so models. Smooth. Easy. Then the what-is-the-worst-thing-that-can-happen happened. I looked back towards the curtains and there was no one there. No one. No model. No dresser. Not even someone signaling me that yes, they do know that there is not a model appearing, please try to carry on. No one. For all I knew, they had all gone out the back door and across the street to enjoy lattes at the local coffee house.

So, I turned to the audience, saying there had been a slight delay, and asked the rhetorical question, "How many of you are weavers?" Laughter rose up and a hundred hands or more pushed up into the air, some holding knitting needles, others holding drop spindles, very few of them empty. "How many of you are spinners?" "How many of you knit?" And last - "Why? Why do you weave, knit, spin?"

The answers poured out, like one mouth, one mind, all just waiting to be asked that question. It's fun. I love it. To embarrass my kids. :) I'll never be able to do all of the things I want to learn about. Friends. Animals (goats, sheep, llamas, bunnies). It was a wave unleashed. Finally,it ebbed and they looked back at me. And in that moment, I got it. I really, truly got it. Yes, we knit, weave, spin for all of those reasons. But, truly, at the very essence of it all, we do those things because we believe that somehow doing those things makes our lives, and the lives of others, and maybe even the world that we live in, a better place.

I spent the day yesterday, as the fires danced in the hillsides, knitting, weaving, soothing my cat and tending the plants. I believe that I spent the day in prayer, just as the name of this blog implies. And, I believe, that it made a difference. Thank you, weavers, knitters, spinners and bead workers, all creative people, for what you do. You make a difference.

Not a great day . . .

2008-11-15T14:20:00.000-08:00

Today is not a great day for Southern California. Once again, the hills are on fire. I am not in danger. I live in a very flat coastal plain, about 7 miles from the ocean, not a high fire risk area, and quite far enough away from the coast to not be a part of the high tide advisory. So, I sit, watching the sky as the smoke shifts and turns overhead, creating an eerie light and reminding me of how foolhardy it is to even entertain the thought that we have "dominion" over Mother Nature.

From my front porch about two hours ago. That's smoke, not a rain cloud.

Then, from my backyard, about the same time. Beautiful So Cal blue sky complete with palm tree, although windier than usual.

And, now, same palm tree:

Everything has an eerie glow because of this.

My intention today is to not contribute to the fear and to stay centered. My strategy is to knit and weave, moving from room to room, depending on which window offers the most uplifting view. My options on windows are starting to shrink. Please hold, with me, all of those affected by the fires, including the animals and plants, in prayer.
Blessed be.

A Very Precious Gift

2008-11-14T14:10:00.000-08:00

I received a very special gift last Sunday. These are prayer beads, gifted to me by the practitioner interns at my church. It has been my pleasure and honor to be with them on their journey to becoming Practitioners. As part of that, I facilitated a day of meditation and visioning. To thank me for that, and to honor the journey that we have been on today, right before we gathered to pray on the prayer requests received that day, they gifted me these beads.

Thank you, Jyl, for sharing your talent and stepping forward into your ministry. Thank you, practitioners, for the time we have spent together. I'm looking forward to this next part of our journey together. And so it is.

Making Space

2008-11-12T06:57:00.000-08:00

Doug and I are moving. We're not sure when and not completely sure where, but what we do know is that we are moving. This is not a sudden urge. We've been thinking and talking about it for oh, I'd say, about 10 years or so. Then, over the last 3 or so, we started looking. We think we've found the place and now it's time to start clearing out and making space for this to happen.

Hence, the new look of my blog. As I've posted before, I love clutter, lots of stuff, baskets filled with things I've forgotten about and mysterious objects stored away. But that's hard to move. Plus, I have complete faith that even as I clear away the past, that is, 30 plus years of living in this house, more good stuff is waiting for me at that new place. My blog was feeling cluttered to me, and it seemed an easy place to start.

Now, on to the rest of the house. It's an interesting, not to mention daunting, task. Meanwhile, SarahCat says, "Moving? Snow? I don't like rides. I don't like cold."

Thank you

2008-11-11T08:54:00.000-08:00

My dad, with all of the other labels that he wore, was also a veteran of WWII. Some of my best memories are sitting with him, usually after dinner, a Chesterfield King dangling from his mouth, smoke rising and the ash growing longer and longer, his left hand wrapped around a can of Coors. I listened as he told stories about when he was in France and Germany. They were exciting stories, stories about getting convoys of trucks out of deep mud in pouring rain, with no lights, just your wits to guide you past the German lines. He talked about dancing in the streets of Paris, losing the jeep he was supposed to be driving a general around in, only to find it, days later, with the window smashed and the seats gone. The general remained lost for several more days. All sorts of stories, some much more harrowing than these, but none of them about the horror that the war was. The horror that, when he got home, sent him on a journey across the country from Illinois to California, because the memories he carried within himself couldn't live with the hero status of returning soldiers.

He was wounded twice; I have his Purple Heart. He gambled his way through the war; I have his dice. But mostly what I have is the memory of him, all of him, in all of his shortcomings and wonder. And I'm grateful that he made it through that war so that I could be here and have those memories. Thank you, Daddy, and thank you, God.

Secrets . . .

2008-11-10T12:30:00.000-08:00

We were wandering along the trails in the Arboretum at Flagstaff, Az and came upon this sign. I wish more of the secrets along my path were this clearly marked. At least, I think I do.

U-turns and Double Decreases

2008-11-08T12:58:00.000-08:00

Doug is fond of saying that when we embark on one of our road trips, at least 50% of our mileage is made up of U-turns. This is not a complaint. It's an affirmation of the many unexpected things that we will see along the way and deem worthy of a second look. I feel the same way about the so-called mistakes in my knitting.

Sometimes, a second look only proves that it truly is a mistake - something that needs to be corrected. Often, though, this seeming mistake provides a U-turn to something I hadn't really thought about. This is exactly what has happened with the socks I'm knitting that are inspired by the Julia shawl I knit (finished and just waiting to be blocked, yeah!) from Alison's book, Wrapped in Comfort.

You may remember this sample that I did, waaaaaaay back before we went on vacation. Well, having just finished knitting the shawl and this sample, I felt as if that stitch pattern had become a part of me. So, off I went on vacation, sock yarn and #2 DPNs in my bag, to knit my socks. And, I did. Only one problem: While I remembered the stitch pattern, I didn't remember which double decrease the pattern used. Now, I have to tell you that I thought that I did. I thought that I was doing everything just like the sample. Hmph. The knitting gods must have been enjoying themselves. How silly those humans are! Because, after several rows, I looked at my sock, and it just didn't seem the same. And, yet, it still didn't occur to me to stop, take a good look, and reconsider what I was doing. Not until I got home and compared the sock to the sample, did I realize that I was doing a different double decrease. Look at the difference! But, you know, I kind of like it. And, I have a new appreciation of the aesthetics of decreases. But, I still think the knitting gods tune into the station I'm on when they need a good laugh.

Let's see what they have in mind for me this afternoon when I block the Julia shawl.

All Creatures, Great and Small

2008-11-05T09:50:00.000-08:00

The election results are in, and, I, for one, am relieved that it's over. Enough of the ads, the commercials, the signs cluttering the chain link fences around my neighborhood. Enough. Time to move on. I got who I wanted for president, didn't get what I wanted on prop 8. I know that that's the way it goes - win some, lose some. But it can be hard. For some reason, I keep having the images of the road in front of us as Doug and I traveled through the high deserts and mountains of northern Arizona and New Mexico for those three weeks. In the seeming emptiness of that yet-ever changing landscape, creatures kept appearing and, disappearing.

I've already written about the cow at the end of the post about my stash enhancement. But there were others. Just outside Taos, on the mesa before Tres Piedras, there were big, black tarantulas. Yup, tarantulas. It was a dance, (the Tarantella?) between these hairy ones with the long legs and Doug. Doug swerved slightly in order to not run over them. Like the cow, they were unconcerned with our concerns about them. Some came from the left side of the road, a stately pace taking them over the warm pavement, across the yellow line, to the right. Others came from the right - same journey, opposite direction. They were only there in mid morning. By later in the day, when I had finally had the thought that I should photograph them, they were gone. Do the same ones cross the road every morning? Do they spend one day on one side, the next on the other side? I don't have the faintest.

Then there was the road runner. He stood at the right side of the road, watching us approach, just outside Tuba City. At the last minute, he/she ran out in front of the Jeep. Doug braked. Road Runner sprinted along directly in front of the car, a grand, futile gesture of leadership and retrieval of self-respect, before recognizing that, nope, this one's too big and too fast. He executed a tight U-turn to the dirt shoulder of the road, right back to where he had started.

And, I can't forget the coyotes. There they were in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, not a usual Coyote time to be out and about. I've seen coyotes before, lots of them. But mostly I have heard them in the darkness and seen their shadow moving past me, their eyes a glint in the light, whether firelight or electric, when we lived in the desert. These two coyotes were just trotting along the road, only one was looking to cross, and he/she waited until we had passed.

Of course, there were also sheep, usually peacefully eating their way through a meadow. But on one of those arrow straight roads across the mesa, the roads that just go on and on, there was a big ole ram and his harem of three ewes. Doug had to brake quick and hard for these. And, then, as the Jeep stopped just a few feet from them, Ram thought better of it and headed back into the bushes, where the ewes were still hiding, no doubt muttering about the machismo of that ram and how he always had to be the one in charge. Probably didn't tell him that, though. But I bet he still knew.

I'm not sure why all of these images are in my head this morning, although as I've typed, I've heard the political analogies: right, left, retreat, playing games, being seen in unfamiliar places, more likely to be in the dark, deception. I'll leave it up to you. But what I do know this morning is, I am grateful for all of the creatures who are in my life and share themselves with me: two footed, four footed and even eight footed.

Sanctuaries in Faith

2008-10-25T08:51:00.000-07:00

One of the places we visited on our three week long excursion was the Santuario at Chimayo. This isn't the first time I have visited the Santuario, but it is a place that moves me deeply and I am drawn to return there. The first time I visited, I cried. Not that nice gentle, picturesque tears glinting on my cheeks sort of crying, but a deep sobbing that seemed to come from the earth itself. I just couldn't stop no matter what I did, and so I finally surrendered to it and was at last able to realize that it was the deep Faith present in this place that brought my tears.

The Santuario is a place of pilgrimage and healing. It is believed that the ground itself is healing and there is a place in the side chapel where you can get down on your knees, bend low and scoop a bit of the dirt to carry with you. Leading to this place on the one side is the chapel, but directly in front of it is a narrow room filled with prayer requests pinned on the walls, the curtains, anywhere they can be pinned. The requests are surrounded by cast off crutches, photos of loved ones, homemade shrines - it is a place where making is praying.

I'm thinking of this place because today I get to participate in a healing. One of my ministers has asked me to assist her in a double wedding. That in and of itself is wonderful, but that these marriages can occur is somewhat of a miracle, because these couples are gay. The absolute joy of these four people who today are allowed to declare their love for one another in a lifelong commitment, through sickness and health, for better or for worse - their joy is enough to carry me for days and remind me, once again, how truly miraculous Life is. I get to remember today that Spirit's Love is true sanctuary and that in that Love, each of these couples will create their shared sanctuary.

Thank you, God, for this opportunity and privilege. For inviting me to participate in this Love filled time, and for reminding me, once again, of how great Life is.

Standing Cows and Being Home

2008-10-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

Actually, I've been home for a little over a week now. I have no idea why, but it takes me a pretty long time to readjust when I get home from a trip. There's a strange feeling of needing to now integrate that person who I was before I left, and what I was working on, with the person who did and saw and experienced all of that stuff out on the road, into this person who is now home. It's like standing in a time warp. I have no idea if any of that makes any sense to any of you, but the point is, I'm home.

So much to share and tell. So over the next few days, I'll share some pictures of treasures and end with a Road Story.

This is my basic treasure trove of knitting goodies, most of it from the Taos Wool Festival. It's laid out on top of the front and back of Ms PurpleSweater and topped by the socks based on the Julia Shawl Pattern. More on projects in a later post. Right now, let's concentrate on the goodies.

The two Elizabeth Zimmerman books in the front were bought by my husband, Doug, at a garage sale. There's more books, some knitting, some not. That man is a genius at treasure hunting at garage sales.

There is gorgeous lace weight handpainted yarn by Jan Seltman that I bought at Village Wools in Albuquerque, NM, on the far left. It's actually a much deeper color. I'm thinking a shawl with this.
Next to that is three skeins of handpainted yarns by Plain & Fancy Sheep and Wool Co from Henderson, TX. Maybe a modular vest? Then the pink in front is a 2 ply Cotswald/Silk. Drats! It doesn't have a label, but I do have her card somewhere. I'll post the info when I find it. And, in the back on the right, 2 bundles of handpainted kid mohair roving from Kai Mohair.I have no idea what I'm going to do with this: I just had to have it. And nestled in the middle is a skein of absolutely exquisite Suri/merino from Grand Slam Llama and Alpaca Fiber. The very friendly person at this booth assured me that I could wear a scarf or vest from this in Southern California. Obviously, she has never experienced Southern California - it's in the upper 80s today. Where she lives, in CO, they are having snow.

Lastly - a Road Story.

We left Taos and headed north towards Chama. The Aspens were turning and contrasted against the greens of the pines, well, it was mesmerizing. Every now and then there would be a clearing, with a ranch house and black and white or brown and white spotted cattle grazing. Very idyllic. So different from where I live.

As we came down into a small valley, there was a gathering of cows on either side of the road. Strange thing was, on the left, all of the cows were white and on the right, all of the cows were black. Well, we said, segregated cows. No, we decided, after further discussion. It's just that the cows on the left, the white ones, hadn't got their dark spots yet and the cows on the right, the black ones, well, their black spots had just taken over. Yes, I know, both Doug and I have a very odd sense of humor. But, hey, it's part of the reason the marriage has lasted. Anyway, we continued this conversation on the Way of Spotted Cows, when, up ahead, we see, surprise, surprise, a cow. A black cow. Not in an idyllic pastureland, but straight across our lane. Perfect right angle to the road. Doug stops, of course. The cow, occupying the entire width of the lane, slowly turns her head to look at us. Yes. There they are. More tourists. Head moves back to original position. No other movement. Just standing there. Doug edges the Jeep towards her. Nothing. Changing tactics, he backs the Jeep up a bit and begins to pass her on the left. She turns her head, staring through the window at me. Every other part immobile. Inching past her, her very large nostrils now revealing much more about cows than I really care to know, she continues to stare as we pass her and move back into the lane. We watch her in the rear view mirror, and just a few moments later, see the whole thing repeated with a little red car.

Doug said that he considered honking at her, but wasn't sure how she would take it. Better to let standing cows stand.

A Quick Update

2008-10-05T16:36:00.000-07:00

We're in Taos right now. Been to the Taos Wool Festival. Oh. My. I was actually pretty good. Did not buy absolutely everything that I drooled over. Did add two new drop spindles to my collection, some hand painted kid mohair roving, alpaca 2 ply and a 2 ply Cotswold/Silk blend. I promise pictures when I get home. Unless I can figure out how to transfer photos from my camera to my phone. Then I could email them to Flickr and upload them that way. But, probably not. I'm much too busy spinning, knitting, and most importantly, absolutely sinking into this scenery.

A note on Ms. PurpleSweater. She misses all of you and is a bit put out that she doesn't get her picture on the Internet almost daily. However, she is finding this to be a growth experience. She now has the front and 2/3 of the back of her done.

Uhhhhh, blog temporarily interrupted

2008-09-27T08:55:00.000-07:00

I had plans. I had great plans. I had plans to share my three week adventure, complete with knitting, with all of you. Seems my computer had other plans. It has gone on its own vacation. So, for now, posts will be limited to when I can get online at a hotel or other spot. Hmmm, wonder if maybe God had other plans - like, take a vacation, Linda, don't worry about blogging? But it's so much fun to blog - oh, well. Rest assured I'm well and safe, just the computer having a slight hiccup. Maybe it's the altitude?

To the Grand Canyon

2008-09-25T20:17:00.000-07:00

We are staying in the great little town of Williams, Az. It seems that Williams' claim to fame is that it is the gateway to the Grand Canyon. So, we decided to go to the Grand Canyon. We went via the Grand Canyon Railway, a 2 hour plus ride at the "blistering speed," according to our guide, of 45 mph or less. The trip took us through open flatland and conifer forests, and along the way we saw a few deer, three elk and quite a few wildflowers for this late in the season. Ms PurpleSweater seemed to enjoy the ride, looking out the window. She was especially pleased when a fellow traveler asked about her, saying how pretty she was.

The train takes you right to the rim of the Canyon. There is a paved easy trail with spectacular views that give a great sense of the sheer immensity of the thing. It seemed a bit hazy, so the colors were muted, but it's still impressive. An overheard conversation: "Well, I guess when God got done making all the other stuff, He decided to play." Wow. Some playground.

The Canyon made Ms PurpleSweater dizzy, although she did think that she and the Canyon were a nice compliment, colorwise.

The train departs the Canyon at 4 in the afternoon, meaning we got back to Williams a little after six, had some dinner and returned to our hotel, the Grand Canyon Hotel. It's supposedly the oldest hotel in Arizona, built in 1891. If you're a fan of the HBO series,
Deadwood, well, all I can say is that I wouldn't be surprised to see Al peering over the banister.

On Vacation with Ms PurpleSweater

2008-09-24T17:50:00.000-07:00

Doug and I are on vacation! We're headed towards the Taos Wool Festival in Taos, New Mexico, but that's not for another ten days, so we have plenty of time to, as my dad used to say, just mosey. Of course, it's not just Doug and I. I have brought along projects.

Number one is the purple sweater I posted about earlier, with a picture of her relaxing in the lawn chair in the new garden. Well, when it came time to leave and I was gathering up the obligatory traveling sock project, Ms PurpleSweater spoke up. "Why," she pouted, "is it that socks get to travel so much? Sweaters are much more important. You can always go barefooted, but just try going barebreasted in polite society." I saw her point immediately, and while I have also brought along a sock project to get started, (shhhh, don't tell her yet), MS Purple Sweater is getting first look at our vacation spots.

First stop was Harrah's Resort and Casino in Laughlin, Nevada, on the Colorado River. Ms PurpleSweater was not impressed. Peaking quickly over the railing of the deck, she wondered just why it was that her knitter had brought her, a wool sweater, to a place filled with sand, water and - worst of all - a temperature of 104! That's right - it's almost October, other parts of the country are beginning to think about frost on the pumpkin and here we are in a place that's 104 degrees F. However, turning quickly, she began to see possibilities in this place after all.

Air conditioning, glamour, action! Casino! I'm sorry to say that I can't show you pictures of Ms PurpleSweater once she got through those doors. The casino doesn't allow photography.

The Dancing Stick

2008-09-20T16:11:00.000-07:00

I walked out into my garden this morning, new camera in one hand and cup of coffee in the other, and discovered this:

What could it be? Halloween is still several weeks away. Maybe the goblins are visiting early? Nope. Closer inspection showed a thin transparent thread that, if followed up its extensive length, led to this elegant web. Grandmother Spider, welcome again.

Orb weaver spiders, like all weavers, must establish a warp, threads to be woven on, before they can weave their web. One way that they do this is by confidently jumping into space, releasing a thread as they float down. When they encounter something solid, they attach this thread, return to the web and repeat the action until the required number of warps are ready. Only then do they begin the spiral weave out from the center of their webs.

Evidently, this Orb Weaver, touched down on the newly scattered wood chips that we have used in the garden. Attaching her web to one, she returned to her web. But the wood chip was light enough that it came away from the ground, still weighting her web, but not attached to Terra Firma. This spider is not the first weaver to use this technique in weaving. Looms called, appropriately enough, warp weighted looms, were used in Ancient Greece and Rome. Ovid's description of the weaving duel between Athena and Arachne describes a warp weighted loom, and drawings on vases of Penelope weaving and reweaving while she waits for Odysseus, confirm their use. This is a drawing I did from a photograph of a vase in one of Elizabeth Barber's wonderful textile history books.

So much happening in my garden!

And for those of you who have let me know that you do not share my fascination with spiders, here's another visitor in the garden. But, sssssshhh. He's not just sleeping; he's also hiding. Don't let TobyCat know that you can see him - he's a very skittish cat.

"Oh, my, my," said the spider to the . . . beetle?

2008-09-13T17:27:00.000-07:00

My garden is filled with Orb Weaver Spiders, their spiral webs, and one less iridescent beetle.

Grandmother Spider, I am honored by your presence. And so it is.

It Ate the Pot or Do you remember Audrey?

2008-09-12T14:34:00.000-07:00

Okay. Time to start on this corner of the Meditation Garden. I remember when this was just a tiny thing, in a nice terra cotta pot. Wonder what happened to that pot?

Oops.

I remember . . .

2008-09-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

Like each of you, I remember where I was seven years ago today. And I remember how I got through it. I knit lace. I had forgotten that until just this morning while knitting on my Julia shawl. I knit lace. Not a project, just a little sample. I had never even attempted to knit lace, but knew I wanted to. I remember finding a chart, easily from the books on my bookshelves, because I had been collecting knitted lace books for years. And I knitted a little sample. It took me days, knitting, ripping, reknitting. Trying to understand those little Os, solid squares, slanted lines and other squiggles. I just kept knitting on that little sample. And somehow I, and that little sample, got through the next few days.

I have no idea where that sample is now. I wish I did. I'd like to have it now to remind me. I remember putting it aside, because I was in school, the second year of what would become a six year journey, and I knew I couldn't get sidetracked. But I remember promising that little piece of knitted lace that I'd be back. And, now, here I am, seven years later, knitting lace. I'm glad I kept that promise.

Moving right along . . .

2008-09-10T18:43:00.000-07:00

The Meditation Garden is beginning to look like my garden again. All of the orchids and bromeliads have been repotted and arranged in their special space under the Orange tree. The gnomes and other critters are beginning to join them. And, I'm pleased that there is room to add in more plants, although sad for those that didn't survive my post graduate work. But, I love collecting plants as much as I love collecting yarn and books, so will be fun to add more.

Next, the cacti and succulents are being arranged and repotted. Doug is painting two of the plant stands while I repot. This little guy just couldn't wait, I guess, for his new home. He's celebrating already. Do you believe these flowers? They are a little more than an inch across. And looks like there are plenty of buds getting ready, too. I don't know their names; I'm just not that kind of a gardener. Oh, I have names for most of them, just not what you'd find in the Sunset Western Gardening Book. I think, though, that these are originally from South Africa.

And, finally, SarahCat surveys her domain. Must be ever vigilant. Keep those gnomes in line.

Swallowtails and Rue

2008-09-08T15:32:00.000-07:00

I am really enjoying working in my garden. I'm glad to have that connection with the earth and her critters again. While possums, rats (ugh!), birds and stray cats are fairly obvious inhabitants, I find many more when I garden.

In redoing the Meditation Garden, we moved the Rue plant and I was sorry to see that it promptly turned brown and looked dead. Hmmm, I thought, maybe if I just cut it back, it'll be able to recoup its energy and come back. So, snippers in hand, I set out to cut it back. But first, I found this beautiful iridescent blue-green little guy in the photo above. I really have no idea what its name is, but it seemed rather rude to interrupt its dinner or frighten it, so I decided to come back when it had finished. Odd, you may say, that I
am willing to let a bug eat my plants? Well, it can be disconcerting, but I know that the ebb and flow of Life is a rule of nature, and I have discovered that over the years, that flow has also allowed unexpected sustenance to me. So, off I went to other garden chores.

Then, when I came back, I was rewarded. One of my favorite things about the Rue plant, is that every year it is decimated (but rebounds) by the caterpillars of the Yellow Swallowtail butterfly. Those caterpillars are some of the strangest things I've ever seen, and I really was convinced that given the condition of the Rue plant, they wouldn't use it as their autumn feast. But, there it was, a tiny Swallowtail caterpillar. Yup, that's it in the picture, about an inch long and looking for all the world like bird poop, and munching away on some of the few remaining green leaves. The caterpillars get up to about 3 or 4 inches and later in the afternoon, I spotted one inching its way up the wall of the house. That evening, I found this strange outer-space-looking-creature. This is a chrysalis, about two inches long, or at least one of the first stages of the chrysalis. I've also found some other chrysalises that seem to be further along. I found a great website here that tells a lot more about them. Meanwhile, there are still a few Swallowtails flitting around in the backyard. Ever try to get a photo of a butterfly in flight? So far, no luck, but I'll keep trying.

And I'll also keep gardening and watching for the wonders in my backyard.

Thank you, God, for the unimagined close at hand.

When slubbiness is a helpful thing

2008-09-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

I didn't work much on the Meditation Garden today. Got sidetracked by my Julia shawl. I was going along just great, knitting while talking on the phone this morning thanks to the wonder of Bluetooth, when, without warning, SarahCat jumped into my lap. Luckily, I was talking to my husband, so the language that followed was a little better accepted than maybe if it had been someone else. Also, he understood the seriousness of the situation and was totally willing to wait while I untangled me, cat and shawl. I couldn't even dare to look at it right then. I just carefully put the knitting aside and finished the conversation.

Then, this afternoon, I surveyed the damage. Not too bad, actually. Not if you're Alison, that is, who designed the shawl and understands what all those little loops of yarn actually do when they yo or sl1-K2tog-psso. For me, it was a bit more of a mystery. So, I said a little prayer and began.

First, the problem. I spread it out and, while the slubbiness of the yarn and the inelasticity of the cotton added to the problem of really seeing what was going on, by using the two vertical knit bars as a guide, realized that I had dropped two stitches out of the three st dec. So, I isolated those stitches using stitch holders. Then I said another prayer. Days like this make me glad that I have a working relationship with a Higher Power. Saying "thank you" in advance, I began to reknit those rows, trying to follow what I could see from the bordering correct areas (again, the slubbiness was not helpful) as well as just imagining as best I could do what should be going on. And, voila! I'm calling it a success. I don't think it's perfect, although it could be the uneven texture of the yarn. The areas on either side have a thick slub of yarn at that point. But, also, now is when that slubbiness helps - there just isn't the sharp definition that there would be if I was using an even yarn. So, hopefully, it all blends in and, as they say, no one on a galloping horse will be able to tell.

Who knows? Someday I might be a lace knitter. And along those lines, I wondered what this pattern looks like in an even, harder twist yarn. I'm also wondered if I could knit a pair of lace socks. So, I knit up a sample of how the Julia Shawl might look as socks. The yarn is a wonderful handpainted wool that I got on our Asilomar trip. The sample hasn't been blocked, just stretched around this cardboard cone for the photo. I'm liking it. Lace socks, here I come. That is, as soon as I find the ball of yarn. It's temporarily disappeared, so I can't even tell you it's maker. Probably all for the best - think I'd better finish the garden, the shawl and maybe even my sweater before I start something else. Or, maybe not. I'll see if that yarn turns up.

Slow but steady . . .

2008-08-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

Progress is being made on the Meditation and Dream Garden. The blocks are painted, arranged and the plants are being repotted and repositioned in the garden. There's actually more plants in place than in this photo, since I repotted most of the orchids this afternoon. Had a wave of guilt that I had neglected them so, but hopefully the spiffy new pots and fresh potting mixture will help them to forgive me.

I've also created a nice place for knitting and reading. You can see the painted block wall this side of the chaise, freshly planted with Desert Honeysuckle. As it fills in, it will hide some of my and Doug's work areas, to the left and unseen in the photo. Hummingbirds and butterflies like this plant, another reason why I chose it. The remaining holes in the top of the wall will be planted with bulbs for spring bloom and winter annuals, probably pansies. (yes, this is So Calif and we garden year round.)

And lest you think that painting, potting and rearranging has pushed aside knitting, nope, never. I have started this sweater for myself with some of the yarn that I bought on our Asilomar trip. I'll post details later, but don't you just love the angles of the garter ridges? I promised myself that this year I would focus on modular knitting and lace and I'm proud to say that I'm actually doing that. I'm still working on my blue Julia shawl, that has now become my take-with-me knitting. Never, ever did I think I could become adept enough at a lace pattern, however simple, that it would be my take along knitting.

And last, but certainly not least, some members of the family seem a little less willing to paint and pot, but plenty willing to enjoy the space.

Returning a favor

2008-08-20T18:49:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago, I entered the DreamTending program at Pacifica Graduate Institute near Santa Barbara, CA. Little did I know that that would lead me to graduate and post graduate work in Mythological Studies and Depth Psychology, but lead it did. During those six years of back-to-school-in-my-fifties time, my Meditation and Dream Garden, created from my work in DreamTending, sustained, guided and enriched me. It gave to me unconditionally and I soaked it up. In return, I generally neglected it in terms of basic things like re potting the orchids. So, this past week, Doug and I have been working on redesigning and reinvigorating the Garden.

It's a small space, so we started by moving all of the potted plants out of the area, leaving only those that had escaped, cracked open or otherwise ignored the bounds of a pot and rooted into the ground. Then, during several late nights watching the Olympics and knitting, I redesigned the area, giving special consideration to the orchids that live under the Orange tree, distracting the view of Doug's work area and my potting bench and creating a place to honor the Divine Feminine, whom I affectionately refer to as M'Lady.

Today we finished the bones of the whole thing. The cinder blocks form the basic structure. They're ready to be painted, planted and provide spaces for the potted plants and multitudes of Victorian style and contemporary rusty creatures, signs and oddments that seem to collect at our house. I even imagine some of the surfaces and pots to be covered in mosaics, but don't tell Doug. He gets nervous when I mention projects involving tiles and grout. Something about his dad and a home project involving a bathroom wall covered in hardened grout. My mom, on the other hand, worked in mosaics as part of her artwork. Part of my weekly chores was helping her grout them.

In among all of the chaos of rearrangement, Beauty continues. I think M'Lady is happy.

Expetition to Asilomar

2008-08-12T18:03:00.000-07:00

I just got home from a luscious more-than-a-week with my good friend, Joanie. The "excuse" for our expetition (that's what Pooh and Piglet would call it) was a church conference at Asilomar. We've decided we no longer need excuses - we intend to just go off on expetitions now.

Asilomar is a conference site on the coast in central California. That it is run by the state government, and run very well, gives me hope. The setting is amazing, and all week I was continually grateful and amazed at the beauty, diversity and imagination in nature.

What a perfect place to sit and knit with a friend. Thank you, God, for friends, oceans, flowers, bugs, birds, trees, oh, just, Life!

God's Imagination

2008-08-04T22:28:00.000-07:00

Anyone who thinks that God does not have a sense of humor or an incredible imagination, has not seen Elephant Seals. We stopped along Highway 1, just past San Simeon to see these. No, they are not dead or washed up from the ocean. They are Elephant Seals basking in the sun. Weighing in at around 2 1/2 tons (!), they understandably don't move around a lot. Every now and then, they raise a stubby flipper and delicately scratch themselves or toss a little sand around. Furthest I saw one move was about four feet.

However, once they are in the water, it is another story. These two were still going at one another when we left, having watched them for probably 20 minutes. It was hard to tell if they were playing or attacking. In addition to diving, biting, and rolling around, they make very loud sounds, sort of like a train pulling in. Believe me, once you've heard it, you'll remember it.

Why Elephant Seal? The helpful sign said it's because of their proboscis, that long "flap" of skin. I just thought it was because of their size.

Thank you, God, for amazing creations.

A Bag of Creativity

2008-08-01T07:06:00.000-07:00

Having recently lost, and now regained, my rhythm of creativity, I am even more aware of how precious it is to me. That's lesson number one that I already knew, but now know deeper. Lesson number two, that I also already knew but now know more deeply, is that while creativity can be depended on, it also must be nurtured.

I grew up in a house filled with creativity. My mom was an artist. She knitted, wove, beaded, and sewed. I shared at Prayer Shawl Ministry the other night that for my mom, using a pattern of any sort was, well, I can't even explain what a sin that was. Yes, sin. If not a sin, at least a serious character defect. Something you needed to work on overcoming. She was one of the first people, way back in the '60s, to use fiber as an artform. She taught, created and exhibited her fiberart across the United States. My childhood memories include waking up late at night and quietly slipping down the hall to watch my mom working in her studio. My dad was no slouch at creativity either. He was a house painter, way back in the days when a house was brushed, not sprayed, and paint was mixed by a human painter, not a computer. He worked for a small company in Los Angeles and was known to be able to match any color. I remember his stories of working at various homes in Beverly Hills and Belair. He'd tell about movie stars and other wealthy people, a world far removed from our stucco tract home surrounded by orange groves in then rural Orange County. He'd match the colors of designer fashions and work with interior designers to create just the right color for a wall. For me, I remember that I could have my bedroom any color that I wanted. And after my dad painted it, my mom would make the curtains, bedspreads - all of it in any color and design that I could imagine and then explain, whether verbally or by drawing. Creativity was important in our home.

So today, as I head off for a little more than a week of an "expetition," as Pooh and Piglet called it, I have packed my Bag of Creativity. It includes my laptop for writing, my knitting, of course, and a sketchbook/journal. I've included something new - some oil pastels and a little watercolor set. I hope to do some sketches using color, in addition to my usual line drawings and writing. I'm looking forward to a week of traveling and creativity.

Thank you, God, for Creativity and the tools that make it possible.

Creative Bursts With a Slight Bump

2008-07-29T18:33:00.000-07:00

I'm in one of those times when everything just flows. (Well, except for the 5.4 earthquake here in So Cal today. That was a little too bumpy to be called a flow.) I set up my time this last week so that I had no scheduled events, and with my husband out of town, it was clear sailing. I'm pleased to say that not only did I get a lot done, but I'm back in the rhythm of making.

On the knitting front, I am almost finished with a prayer shawl/blanket for a 6 year old girl at our church. Ran out of yarn for finishing the edging, but a friend emailed me today that she had found me a skein, so I'm set. It will be finished soon.

The Julia shawl from Ali s on Hyde's book, Wrapped in Comfort, is once again back on track. I had several inches done and realized there was a huge mistake in one of the repeats. It was one of those times when I ignore that prompting, or just common sense, that says something is wrong here, Linda. Nope. I just kept on going until I had to admit, this is not lookin' good. Anyway, I decided it was going to be nearly impossible for me to take it back to where I thought the mistake began, so I just slid it off the needles and ribbit! Now I've started again and I am really pleased with the results. The yarn is working up beautifully, I think, although it can be a little tricky. The skinny stitches want to climb over the fat ones and the fat ones want to either hide the skinny ones or split into two stitches. I understand the pattern well now (it's only six sts) and it's pretty much just zippin' along. I love working on it and I think it's the perfect pattern for showing off a slubby/uneven yarn.

And - I finished this little bag just yesterday. It's woven on a beadloom and I have plans for it. Suffice it to say, for now, that it involves these wonderful shiny objects that a friend and I found today after the earthquake and celebrating her birthday at a favorite Japanese restaurant. Stay tuned. This is a great project.

Creative Spurts

2008-07-26T08:35:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was muttering, well, maybe complaining is a better word. Anyway, I was talking about clutter and creative bursts of energy. I've learned a lot about me and my creative process over the last few weeks, filling out and confirming my original observation that I tend to work in bursts that are nurtured by what others might call clutter. No sooner said than done, and nature, my number one check point for how things are done in the world, provided me with support for my theories.

This is the flower bed in the outdoor area of my studio. Usually, it is a wonderful little gathering of Elsie the cow, her friend the surfing rabbit next to her, a dancing Kokopelli, a Road Runner, a windmill, another Kokopelli - oh, just all sorts of wonderful creatures who have come my way. Gifts and acquisitions, they are all representative of bits and pieces of me, as well as wonderful in their own right. But, you say, there are no little creatures? You're right. No sooner had I written about creative bursts than this area burst forth with Four-o'clocks. That's the bush that looks as if it is about to pull Elsie in and her rabbit friend appears to be rearing in alarm at. Everything else has simply disappeared. Traces remain. Look closely and you can see the head and the humpback of a Kokopelli still playing his flute and dancing, although now mostly in the dark. There's also the hint of the windmill, one arm reaching up above the flowers as if to determine if there still is any sun left. Did I mention that I never planted Four o'clocks here, or anywhere else for that matter?

To me, this is magic. I love it that flowers and life appears unbidden. What's even better is that I know it is a part of a cycle. Once this creative burst is over, it will die back, go underground as seeds, waiting for it's next chance to grow and bloom. All of my familiars will reappear and we'll each continue in our own cycles. Who knows? Maybe even Kokopelli needs to retreat now and then.