Apologies

For the long absence and the lack of reading of your blogs. 

What can I say? Life got in the way. Other writing commitments - one a particularly long piece of the allowed 3000 words, but when it hit 5000 I had to start pruning like a madwoman. A history of my own feminism, starting way back when I was in my late twenties with two small kids and my head exploding with frustration and finding Gloria Steinem's writings. 

Then I started a large knitting project for a godson- ambitious. I knit a few hours a day on it but hell, it's only about 2/3's completed. Whelp. 

And oh yes, I was sick in the meantime too. I caught noro-virus again. The thing that hospitalized me the last time I caught it. This strain was milder but still awful for about 4 days. All the things. I lost a whack of weight and note in old age there is no "bouncing back". More like crawling up a steep incline with a shortage of breath and fighting the will to die.

I had a birthday thrown in there too. I completed 83 journeys around the sun. In a world where most of my dear ones are dead and some afflicted with the dreaded dementia, this is an achievement. 

And oh yes, I lost a dear friend too in the last wee while. I met him when he stayed at my B&B around the bay. He stayed for about 10 days (yes, he extended his original booking of 4 days). One of those people you click with immediately. Rare but treasured. We stayed in touch and he visited me in the spring and planned to move here. When wham, he was stricken both with Parkinson's and leukemia, both rapid and opted for MAID (medically assisted dying) last week. A huge loss of a genuinely kind and brilliant man. And handsome to boot.

So that's me, over and out. I will get caught up with all of you over the next few days.

My big project. I do love the colours.

The Theory of Crows was a beautiful read about a father and daughter reconnecting.

Daughter was in Paris for a while and brought me fresh Roquefort, the real Mccoy and it's orgasmic. I dole out little pieces to myself every night.

A bag filled with gifts from my darling sister on my birthday.

Remiss

So many rabbit holes I went down lately. And had to forego some pleasure (aka this blog) and explore other avenues of creative expression.

I went back to major "big piece creation" in knitting. I started a throw for my godson and his wife. A belated wedding gift. 

I had to make a tough decision about my friend here with Alzheimers/ Dementia. I don't know about other elders out there, but I find I can't tolerate too much stress in my life anymore. And keeping track of her or making arrangements with her were proving to be increasingly challenging. It's a dreadful disease, and I lived beside it a few times, most notably with one of my closest friends, Lana. Written about here.

With Susan (pseudonym) her dementia is different, often hostile, oblivious and defensive about her condition. I tell her I'll text her rather than phone, as she remembers texts better. "Ouch, not true," she says, "I just delete texts!"  Well......I spoke to another friend about the decision to detach and the frisson of guilt I was feeling when she reminded me that Susan would forget about me very quickly. And that is true. I haven't responded to her calls or her texts in the last few days. 

I note HP is no longer supporting my old expensive (at the time) workhorse of a laser printer, so I had to shop around, which took time. I will never deal with HP again. This time I got a scanner too so I could copy valuable documents for my siblings. We are sharing so much these days on Whatsapp. Pooling our mementoes as we all face the grim reaper.

Daughter and Grandgirl treated me big time for my upcoming birthday. Two theatre events (how I miss theatre) and a weekend away in a gorgeous inn by the lake. 

I feel I have a new lease on life after all the sickness and I am so grateful for this. We just never know how long we have and we need to maximise our remaining seconds on this planet.

The planet is in such a sorry state currently. Endless wars, the climate crisis. And a criminal cabal in the country south of us enriching themselves as the citizens get poorer and hungrier and without healthcare. I don't pay it as much mind as I used to, apart from occasional outrage on Bluesky, but I have moved away from all the political screaming and finger-pointing as it truly doesn't make anyone accountable for the myriad of crimes committed daily against the most vulnerable. Something massive died in many of us when concentration camps were normalized (for nearly a century now.)

So yeah, long-winded. I wind up with a picture of my orchids which bloom constantly and are staggeringly beautiful.

May there be more beauty in all of our days and less worry and stress.

 

 

Sporadia

Sporadic indeed. Thank you to all those who emailed me to see what was happening.

I hasten to assure I am still above the sod and not pushing up the daisies. I haven't popped my clogs in other words.

In old age. everything, yes everything, slows right down. 

And the managing of energy and where we throw it becomes almost a full-time job.

I want to do so much, packing everything in, and have yet to come to terms with my own limitations.

In short:

Tax season has entered my life yet again. I embrace my now minimum business which funds a few of my wee luxuries. This year I need a new computer as the one I have, though functioning, is showing her age by screen dimming and being quite nasty in her behavior on my Zoom calls which moved me to use my phone which is not the best solution, especially when I chair some meetings and can't quite see everybody as the gallery is tiny.

I also am restarting my writing workshops.

And I agreed to sit on the tenants' committee in my building as I feel quite passionately about seniors' wellbeing and am a highly vocal advocate of same. 

So there you have it. Meanwhile, I started a lovely sweater for my Parisienne Grandgirl.

A couple of shots taken on Sunday of our beautiful harbour (and sky) in St. John's taken from the south side.

I'll try and behave myself and update more frequently.

And also get caught up on all you lovely fellow blogmates out there.

Slainte!

Analogy for Life

So like all carefully plotted and planned ventures, my latest knitting project blew up.

My rebellious circular needle gave up the ghost and gathered much of my stitchery to its shattered bosom before it did so.

Above you see the lifesaving results of many needles salvaging the disaster.

And here a McGyver solution on the brazen suicidal needle loop.

A mugshot of the disgraced needle.

And finally, after a few intense hours, a triumphant photo of the restored work.

My local knitting supply shop were so fantastic and as soon as my car pulled up out shot an employee with my blessed silvery brand new needle. Note to self: always have a back up needle for a project..

All the above inspired me to write this:

Time

At times like these

Uncertain, unfinished, unknown

The ancestors sit on my shoulders

And say, over and over again

As if I’m still three

“What are you afraid of, girl?

What exactly?”

And then I take this sliver of time

And roll it around in my hands

And stare at it, at all the colours of it,

Mutating, twisting, transforming,

And say back to them, the wise dead ones,

“Afraid? Me? No!

Look at the colours of now!

Aren’t they beautiful?”

Knitting Art

 Knitting has long been a skill that has been way undervalued and diminished by dismissive comments such as "women's work." I was very much taken aback recently by a friend who asked me to knit her an aran sweater and offered to pay me. I laughed a little, as I am wont to do when presented with such an "offer."

So I did a mental calculation of what hours were involved even if I agreed to do it. With design, drafting and gauging, followed by swatching and then knitting it up, it would be 150 hours + material. I told her this and as she was a friend and not a stranger I didn't add "So how much would you pay me an hour?" She merely looked at me aghast and said ruefully,"I guess no, huh?" and I nodded.

As I begin a project, I am struck always by how mathematical a skill it is with all the calculations involved. Like architecture. I reflect on my foremothers who were ill-educated if at all, and marvel at how they managed to do endless arithmetic on sizing and yarn thickness and measuring the multiple many sized bodies in their households as all winter wear was knitted then from socks to sweaters to mittens to underwear and hats. And sanitary napkins. I believe I was one of the last people on the earth to see these knitted feminine hygiene items on a clothesline when I was quite young.

I am working on a sofa throw - afghan, sofa blanket - for a nephew at the moment, and I thought to do a series of photos showing the process as I go along.

My "drawing board" i.e. dining table, where I develop the pattern. Note I use many abbreviations that only I can understand. D is for diamond, C for cables of different sizes, T is for twist, G is for Garter, etc.

A one stitch mistake can be a disaster so I double and triple check my numbers.

I evaluate my yarn colours, I am extremely fortunate in that I can visualize the whole completed colourful project in my head before I start in on the drawing board. I lay the materials on the couch in formation of how they will integrate. At times like these I miss my craft rooms which were always an integral part of previous dwellings. There I could lay everything out and walk away and close the door and get on with other things.

Then I do a swatch for measurements which involves knitting a small piece to make sure the design works.

Now I'm ready to rock and roll and start the piece with bated breath that it all works out mathematically and gauge-wise. This becomes super important in aran work as with plain borders moving into a design there is a massive increase in stitches across the work to accommodate the cabling and twisting and diamonds.

And now, yes, yay, brava, the pattern has worked out beautifully and I am on my way with the project. Just a little showing here of the honeycomb pattern which is in the middle and is tricky.

I will post a little more as I go along so you get an idea of what happens as it blossoms. And particularly, for me, the creator as it encourages me onward.

So there you have it, readers. If you have read this far, I know you will never think of the simple complex art of knitting quite in the same way again.

Do you do any work that you believe is undervalued?

Little Things

I imagine that when we age the joy of little things take more significance, gives us more pleasure and get noticed far, far more.

Hell, even to get out of bed in the morning, sorting out the limbs, catching a breath, finding the floor with our reluctant crampy feet are little things but the success of standing erect, ready to face another day is a little thing, unnoticed in the past, laughed at by the youngers (Whut?). The smell of freshly ground dark roast beans, ths sunrise as I sip, the birds, the silence, the sea with fishing boats in the distance. None of this I take for granted.

I finished a cushion I designed and created. The back is jet black but shows grey in the photo for some reason. It took me a while, a kind of inertia for the few knitting projects on the go. I was busy with the writing and the workshops. But I realized knitting may be a little thing but it calms and focuses me and gets my mind off health and other challenges. 

The size is about 18"X18", I still struggle with metric and constantly convert, either in my head or with a measuring tape. I gifted this yesterday to a friend, long overdue from her birthday in February.

Another friend gifted me with my very first orchid and I absolutely love it. Her buds continue to burst out and smile at me.

May your day be full of the little things that make you smile, however briefly.

Little Things Can Mean a Lot

I did a yarn stash cleanout yesterday. Yarn? You wanna talk yarn? I had yarn from oh, forty years ago. For someday. When. You never know when I might need this colour, this texture. So I dragged it around with me through various moves. My storage has been crammed with the stuff. 

And it's always one thing that triggers a release of some kind. So the one thing that had me moving in the direction of releasing stuff was the gift of this jumbo screen from my beloveds.

The whole room shifted and changed as my old one had been on a portable wooden trolley thingie which had to be moved close to my eyes to watch (I am just about blind in one eye) and then shoved back against the wall. So the wooden trolley was then moved to a corner which became my knitting corner and the little projects I'm working on were displayed prettily.

And as lightbulbs flew off I thought of all this yarn taking up most of my locker space that I will, oh heartbreakingly for a second there, never ever use.

So I piled a lot of it into 4 bags (there's still more but I will deal with it.)

And I threw a notice on my facebook page that I had this for sale for $5/bag and proceeds would go to charity.

I sold the lot of it immediately. And get this: the buyer texted me she was so happy as she knitted exclusively for The Gathering Place a form of shelter for the homeless and lonely not far from me where they are fed and clothed.

And the stash was picked up this morning and the $20 handed over which immediately flew out of my hands and into the Vancouver Rape Relief And Women's Shelter.

So one small thing is like the wings of a butterfly: tiny ripples touching so many other lives.

Do you have any little things stories?

Thrifty Bits

I used up some yarn bits to make this sofa-neck cushion. It's all cotton so washable.

Odd this, it's not in the last bit "lumpy" the photo is fighting this truth.

The top showing buttons I found in the button jar.

It took an inordinate amount of time because of my moodiness and why-bothering with myself. Pain and lack of sleep effects us all in weird ways.

I was out today and took myself off to my favourite thrift store. A large palace of a place chock a block with a vast range of goodies.

For just under $10 I got the following:

A juice glass for mornings, I didn't have one and juice looks so pathetic in a tumbler. Two sets of bookends. One gorgeous journal with TWO ribbon markers and its own pen in a holder, and a neat standup wooden frame for current card/postcard received with a double rubber band at the bottom to hold in place.

I had good news from nephrologist in that my kidneys have been stable for a while now but he warned me that flu/covid could kill me as my kidneys could not handle either.

There's a party here on December 9th but, and a huge BUT it is, 90% of the residents in my building don't wear masks and I really can't risk it, unless things improve. 

How's Covid where you live? I see the US has a huge increase in the last wee while particularly with pediatric cases (and pediatric deaths). Here the deaths in the past month overshadow the beginnings of the pandemic. But still, people tell each other "it's over" and "it's embarrassing to wear a mask, it's over-reacting to nothing."

Right. 

Making a Puffin with the Gardiner Brothers.

So yeah, this intricate knitting style called intarsia is back in my life again as I desperately wanted to create a puffin for a young man in my life who is absolutely crazy about puffins.

It's engrossing work as every line has to be focused on and counting every stitch is a given but it's enchanting to see the image emerge out of all those bobbins. I have a huge fascination for these wonderful birds myself. They make me laugh out loud every time I see them.

I found these incredible Irish dancers recently. The Gardiner Brothers. They'll dance to anything. Here they are with Abba.

And here they are giving The Nutcracker a bash.

I can't watch these without a huge smile.

Throwing Down A Few Words.

 A storm has been blowing all day, lining the windows with lacy clouds and ridges. 

Picture shown to cool down my Australian readers and others upside down from me in the warmer summer climes.

Snow plows chug around all day, clearing as they go. Noisy but necessary. If there's an ice buildup under the snow or on top of it we become immobilized quickly. The manager wears his blizzardy clothes and sets to the pathways with his power snow blower.

Ah winter. I persisted far too long with the scarf shown, I wanted to surprise my grandboy-in-law, I loved the colour combos and the design. But boy after about 16 hours I realized it was a massive mistake and it needs to be ripped out and gauge checked this time. It could just about stand up on its own and walk out the door.

So even experienced knitters make errors, but the thing is we are stubborn and often persist far too long hoping the piece will fix itself (magical thinking).

A Picture is Worth.......

I'm focused on photos.

Sharing them.

Grandgirl was over last night with all these ingredients for dinner, her go-to recipe. It's tortellini, this time she found a sundried tomato with mozzarella variety. She adds fresh kale (our fave veggie) garlic, a splash of cider vinegar, loads of butter and tops the lot with a good French goat's cheese, crumbled. I can't tell you how good it is. We thought we might had a tossing of walnuts to it next time. I remembered to take a pic tonight of the leftover I had of the leftovers. It's a challenge not to inhale it.

An up to date pic of the sofa blanket/afghan which I've called Stone and Sand and Sea and Sky after the song of that name. The couple it is destined for are mad about the sea.  It has about a foot more to go.

Niece and I had breakfast today which then evolved into lunch as we chatted non-stop for nearly 5 hours where we sorted out the world. She always brings knitting. I do if I have a small piece. But I was struck by how her bag matched her yarn and found the image quite beautiful.

It was marvelous to have fairly normal social interactions outside and in coffee shops. But there has been a new cluster way north of here. Remote workers coming home. So still vigilant and masked.

Update

Sometimes we feel stress in different ways, don't we? Not quite aware we are in stress but the evidence of our own compromised presence in our lives becomes evident.

Example:

I nearly went mad from this knitting pattern I had designed. The first time I ripped it out, I had a chuckle. I had forgotten to take into account increases for the Aran part so I wound up with the beginnings of a bedspread rather than a throw (sofa blanket or afghan).  So rip down and start again. Great. I'm on top of things now. 6"inches in, the thing is decreasing in size. With no known cause. 

Closer examination shows no dropped stitches. I was close to weeping. I've been knitting non-stop just about since I was seven so I thought: give up now, as I tossed it in a basket, dementia has set it. Give up, stop knitting. And there it sat. 

I finally picked it up during the week and ripped it all down again and restarted, counting the stitches on every row and the thing was haunted, it was shrinking yet again. I read my pattern aloud a few times and realized I had consistently forgotten a vital increase to compensate for a double decrease in the pattern. Small beans I know to a non=knitter, but I have been knitting for seventy years. Yeah, seventy years and know my knits, cables, purls and lace.

In chatting with friends and family and sharing this, others offered stories of their own realities. Such as awkward stuttering when engaging in conversations, losing really, really obvious nouns when on the telephone, misplacing every day things and sleeping a lot - or the opposite side of that coin, waking a lot. And inappropriate hysterical laughter. I'm sure there are many more.

This pandemic has taken its toll in all sorts of ways, some of which we are not even aware.

Have you any odd or funny or alarming pandemic behaviour responses?

 

Day 10

 Not much happening here. I didn't get out of my pjs today. And it took every bit of willpower to wash the dishes.

However I was in contact with both family and some friends which passed the day well, and also Daughter who had her studio going, she's gone mad into art which is wonderful.

Our Zoom Fam Jam went well. Because of Covid much exploration has been done into ancestors by a few members so that always has us enthralled as we tie in Irish history dates with the family events happening in those times. 

I knitted away part of the day on a new project. And enjoyed my new mug which has both my spirit animal along with knitting on it. I use it just for tea. Change has seen me embrace tea to keep the munchies monkey off my back.

There was a heavy fog clinging to the hills and lake outside this morning. My crocuses winced.

I wish I could say that mentally I'm doing well but I'm not. A kind of lethargy spiced with a sense of will-this-shyte ever end. I'm talking the pandemic of course. this combined with winter here and the realization I'll soon be celebrating the first annual anniversary of my self-imposed lockdown.

A Sliver of Life

I wrote this snippet this morning as I picked up the knitting after quite a dry spell and noted immediately how my mood lifted. Note to self: creativity restores your humanity. And our lives are just moments, if we think about life. This was just a moment in my day.

Herewith the sliver:

Knit Me A Scene
-------------------------------
Needles clicking
Clock ticking
Silent birds
In circling herds
Cloud the pond
In the beyond.

Blog Jam

It's almost embarrassing.

I have so many masks, so much sanitizer that I could open a small shop and sell consistently for about a week. None of these, apart from one mask which I knitted, have been bought by me. This bounty has been been supplied or mailed by Daughter, Niece and Grandgirl. So I'm good for a couple of years of lockdown. But I get it. It's symbolic in these weird times, isn't it? These guys want me to live and show me this by their munificence.

Covid has started up here again after over 50 days of no new cases. All travel related. One engineer who works on turnaround in Texas, in self isolation, infected his wife and toddler daughter. Another flew home from Asia. Of course these flights are now being contact traced. It is extraordinarily easy to infect others when quarantine isn't enforced, isn't it?

I gifted Niece with her afghan/sofa blanket. I took some pictures with my "real" camera which I haven't downloaded yet - it's complicated as all the USB ports are just about inaccessible at the back of a big heavy screen - huge design fail and irritating as hell.

I hung it on a clothes rack, but you can catch the drift of the design. She was thrilled with it.

You can kinda see the house and certainly the trees of life and the hearts representing her children and the usual Irish symbols of marriage vines and diamonds and honeycombs for abundance.

This bottom one shows the land and see and lighthouse. It's a very large sofa blanket for a large family and impossible to photograph properly, I tried everything.

She is thrilled with it. I'll post photos from the real camera if they are any good at capturing it all.

Joy

I take politics far too seriously. I think I've learned my lesson. My detachment from all social media is complete. I will only fight now, post-covid, for senior fairness and bringing the many of us living in Canada to the official poverty line. I know. Small potatoes but essential for survival here where many elders make $5,000 per annum below it.

So now. I can't get over myself. I am experiencing gallons of joy for the last four days and I hope I'm not jinxing this. I am reading a marvelous book called H is for Hawk by Helen Mac Donald

The rating isn't that great on Goodreads but I get why it wouldn't be to everyone's taste. It is a memoir by a woman whose father has just died and she gets into the business of training a groshawk, one of the most challenging of all falconry enterprises. I am learning so much from it, another underbelly of life unexplored. There are so many.

I have 21,000 words written on the new novel and it is taking me to extraordinary places. I am living and breathing it every day. I am also busy on the blanket I designed and have about 1/3 complete.

You will note the completed lighthouse, the partially finished house and of course the familiar diamonds of vines and cables of Irish knitting. On the left you will see a cream and black cord (it will wind up a marble-like frame for the work) which I knit away at as it is mindless when I attend Zoom meetings. The main body requires concentration due to its complexity.

You're the first in the whole world to see it as I'm not posting it elsewhere.

It brings me enormous joy. Plus I keep a notepad by me and jot notes for the book as they occur to me.

I think it's the first time in my life I feel undistracted as I write with no other responsibilities apart from feeding myself and basic maintenance.

Hence joy.

Dear Chantal

You're 18 years old and so very talented, intelligent and amazing in your accomplishments in your life so far in spite of so many unimaginable challenges. A full scholarship to a prestigious university. How absolutely incredible and validating for your commitment to your future and the hard work of your past.

I knitted you this pair of socks in such an unusual way for a few reasons.

The history of socks is quite interesting. They were originally made from animal skins tied around the foot and that was way back in the 7th century. Then they graduated to animal fur and finally to sheep's fleece. Historically, Very few ancient socks survive as the fibre breaks down quite rapidly. There is one original red sock that did and interestingly, it had a special pouch divided off for the big toe.

The architecture of socks is interesting. You will see how I knitted the cuff, heel and toes in different colours to highlight this for you. Straight needles, double pointed granted, 5 of them, resulting in a curved and bent piece of fabric that accommodates your feet and holds their shape if treated well.

Knowing you, I think the quirkiness of the socks will appeal as they are a truly one of a kind pair and if stolen (one never knows!) can be spotted immediately. I tried to incorporate all the colours of the changing oceans around us here with a bit of grey thrown in for The Rock.

I would wash them gently (sorry about that) as they are merino wool and dry on low heat or hang as I do. You will find you get several wears out of them before washing as they breathe remarkably well and are toasty in the winter and cool in the summer.

Wear in good health my friend. And I hope you enjoy them as I did in making them for you. The extra yarn is in case of repairs if needed.

I'll see you in December!

Love

Rain

The rain comes down today. In spatters, in force, in sprinkles. It can't make up its mind. Many birds circle the lake in front of the building, riding on air currents, saving energy, waiting for the feeders who arrive daily. From all walks of life. To sit on the benches and throw grain and bread and nuts to their favourites. It must be hard to soar when wet, I think. And what do birds do on rainy days when people stay home with their food bags?

There's a chill in the air. That wintrish glaze on everything. Joanna, my cleaning person, is supposed to be here today. I got ready for her. I always have to do a clean up for my cleaners. Left to my own devices I can create a slum out of the tidiest rooms in about 10 minutes flat. Not a skill I am proud of. But I think (she's 80 after all) she must have forgotten. And that's fine with me. At least some cleaning was done. I was going to tell her help herself to my enormous yarn collection which I have to do something about. I am a compulsive collector: movies, books, yarn, silver napkin rings, et al. But between the jigs and the reels I've let everything loose into the universe. Well, almost everything.

Meanwhile I have another editing job in which is a thrill. And I accepted a position on a board which should be interesting.

And I have a talk to give tomorrow night which involves index cards I haven't prepared yet. I like to do them at the last minute so everything is fresh in my mind and I try not to um and ah and remember to breathe and to glance briefly at the cards to make sure I'm on message and sequential. Easier said than done.

Other than that I had a very interesting lunch yesterday with two friends I hadn't seen in a about a year or so as they still live out in the country, hanging in there for another few years - for they are a few years younger than I. At one of our favourite places, a true honest pub with pub grub, including all day breakfast with lashings of home made home fries. The conversation was interesting and satisfying as we hovered around all sorts of topics including this challenge of not being able to walk and chew gum anymore.

I'm still in sock mode. Knitting them that is. And I watched the entire Crown Series 3 in a two night binge. It's like Downton Abbey, lots of froth and frocks. And stellar performances.

And I'm not feeling as if I'm on death's door anymore. I really don't know what that was all about. But it was frightening.

My Happy Place

Interesting day.

I was at a business meeting earlier where it was discussed that a property, which is being severely mismanaged by a bunch of yahoos (my private words) needs to be taken over and run properly. And I outrageously said: "You know what? This should be taken over by a bunch of women and run successfully!" And Lard Thunderin', didn't everyone (including males) vote all in favour. I tell you in all my born days this was a first. I should mention the above yahoos are all male and elderly and adverse to any type of innovation or heaven forbid technology. I am not an ageist by a long shot, but sometimes new female blood is needed. And these females are young and energetic.

I had packed my knitting. Mainly because I'm on this mad sock-knitting kick so decided after the meeting I would head off to my happy place, my beach, as the day was glorious.

So here it is in all its glory:

And here's my knitting bag and another sock on the go:

And yes, Gigi, I'm wearing my socks:

Sunshine on my feet as winter nudges her way onto our bones.

Behold the Sock

So simple, so straightforward.

You've got to be kidding.

Have you ever tried knitting one (make that two, you can't go around with one sock now can you?)

It's been years since I've knit a pair as I'm so aware of the work involved.

Engineering and mathematical work.

You heard that right.

Calculating the yarn involved, the size needles (allowing for individual tension) the size of foot, the matching the yarn to the individual socks.

And you haven't got out your five needles yet. Yes, 5. To make that sock round with no seams and ahem, no holes.

So with trepidation I began and you know? Firing up those tottering brain cells has been, well, challenging. Sock knitting is all mathematics and engineering. Shaping the yarn, making and creating and decreasing stitches. I tried listening to podcasts, but nah, can't do. All this fierce concentration is laid at the feet (got that, ha!) of my socks. And there's no room for listening to anything.

But watching it all take shape on the needles is a complete and utter meditation.

I can almost hear my internal computer recharging itself and new pathways forming. Seriously.

Here they are: one completed, one getting there. I love the colour-ways. Like dawn coming up over the hill opposite my window.

And yes, I will produce another photo of them on my feet. I am unstoppable now. I am surveying my yarn stashes and imagining where it will eventually walk.

May the sock force be with me.


PS those darker specks you see on the yellow, etc. are part of the yarn colour-ways. Tiny flecks of the brown on the other colours. It looks beautiful in reality.