I'm up at the Tigeen. Replete with deadlines. Replete. What a great word. Let me think about that for a minute or two.
I say to Leo a few hours ago as he shoots up and down the back
As I pondered the shortfall of wood for the wee stove I thought: I have a lot of old wool there, I should knit a carrier for wood. Wool and wood. With a long wood handle. Open ended. Something to design and make up here when my muse, Scriobhnarin, flees. As she has done.
Knitting pushes the writing around, fills my head with fresh thoughts and approaches. I need to read, edit, add notes, descriptions, fill in the voids of symphonic phraseology(!). Attempt lyricism. Knitting plays the counterpoint to this.
And Sister gave me a brand new knitting bag when I was back home.
As if I don't have enough already.