things i delight in

More times than not (it seems), this blog ebbs and flows with snippets, bits, and pieces of me. Don't think for a moment, dear friends, that this negates your duty-sworn promise to keep in touch through writing letters (the old fashion way), phoning, email, or a lunch date.

I enjoy the challenge of writing and photography this blog gives me. Having said that, here are ten things I delight in. They are in no particular order of preference, and by no means are they the only things I delight in (as a reminder, re-read the first sentence of this entry).

• the gliding sensation and effect of graphite as it gives itself to paper; the constant gauge of a mechanical pencil

• the lingering aroma of pine and dirt while walking through a forest

• brushing up against herb plants to release their earthy fragrance

• the influence and silent communication of my husband's gentle touch

• getting lost in the magic of a book's words

• the sweetness, acidity, and warmth of that first freshly brewed cup of coffee in the morning

• the rush of cold water from a creek rippling over bare feet after a long hike

• the scent of horses, the hint of hay on their breath, the trace of leather lingering in the air

• ebbs and flows :: a stillness in the air with the first callings of birds preparing for the day just as the sun begins its promising ascent; surrendering to the subdued colors and peacefulness of the evening as dusk and darkness approaches

• foods :: fresh; rich, intense flavors mixed with subtle, multiple layerings
  

west-ward ho!

Stitch 'n Ride :: our own dedicated train from Sacramento to Santa Clara. The atmosphere was charged with fiber mojo (as well as caffeine) and, oh, the pageantry of delightful finished items on display was akin to a peacock convention.

"Not all those who wander are lost." ~~JRR Tolkien~~

Stitches West :: teeming with knitters, crafters, spinners, and...well, fiber. Oh, yes, I did indeed, wander. I explored the many dimensions of wool, cotton, alpaca, and buffalo (to name only a few).

In fact, I managed to get my passport stamped at all the required stations as proof of my thoroughness.




There were celebrities to be seen. Alas, cameras were a "no no" but I succeeded in getting a signature from Vicki Howell, host to DIY's Knitty Gritty. I know...I don't normally go in for that sort of thing, but I was caught up in the moment...must have been the wool in the air.

A few choice skeins of fiber were purchased (some arriving later through the mail) as well as a few patterns. For me, this trip was more of an exploration of the senses than of procurement. Sadly, a few vendors were sold out on Thursday and Friday, leaving an empty shell from which the spokespeople offered apologies.




"Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter." ~~Izaak Walton~~

Rain didn't dampen the stimulated spirits of over 400 knitters as we waited for the train, although I must say it was a quieter, more subdued group once the train began its gentle rocking on the tracks towards home. Maybe it was the sharing of newly acquired stash, or exhaustion, or the wine. Good times with good friends. Ahhh, what a day.

preparation

Cooking: delightful skewers of chicken, fresh pineapple, red bell peppers, and zucchini. Dinner before a long day of fiber overdose at Stitches West.

Packing: my bag with knitting, snacks, water, a book (one always has a book to read at all times), and lunch, as well as an extra train ticket which was sent to me. I paid for one, was charged for one, and received two. Yes, I will be turning it in to the "proper authorities."

Checking: yarn yardage and weight needed for some patterns.

waking up

This gives one a visual, much better than I could ever describe, on how I am gradually woken up each morning, with the exception of the bat...insert any of my "favorite" last-ditch efforts: plinking of the blinds, thumping of the bathroom cabinet door, engaging gravity by knocking over (usually onto the floor) something from the dresser, hanging on the door latch--all done over and over and over.

citrus squeeze

While there are many folks knee-deep (or deeper) in snow right now, I am reminded by the occasional dropped, over-ripe fruit on the ground and new, white blossoms on the branches to finish up the harvest of Meyer lemons. This year the two trees have produced only about four grocery-sized bags of marvelous nourishment. I attribute the low crop numbers to the construction around them this last year, since we ripped out the inefficient water system and the poor things have had to rely on my memory to receive moisture during the hot summer months. The fruit is smaller than normal--they are the size of lemons that one would find in stores (wimpy), but my normal is the size of a small orange (23 cm/9 inches) or larger. An average year, my harvest equals six to eight bags of lemons.

These three packages of golden goodness will be delivered to grateful recipients tomorrow. I see lemonade, lemon meringue pie, lemon sorbet, and lemon-thyme chicken on the horizon.

Need more ideas for Meyer lemons? Check out this.

heart to heart

Wishing you a pleasant day filled with peace and passion. Listening to this pleases me and reminds me how fortunate I am to have such a marvelous husband.

isle of purple heather

Once again, the time has come for the (now) third annual Brigid in Cyberspace Poetry Reading. I find this a much more fulfilling endeavor than waiting for a poor groundhog to be pulled out of his nest each year.

Outside it's blustery, cold, and wet. While I love the moisture we're receiving, I long for the quiet, warm, and colorful days of summer. William Butler Yeats takes me there, if only in spirit.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

~~William Butler Yeats~~