Magic Happens!

One of the things I love about spinning is the sheer magic of it. One starts with this:

A little gentle tugging and pulling, and you go from soft balls of fluff and end up with a long filmy cobweb. That cobweb gets spun into yarn!

 Claudia is beyond knowledgeable, and is both funny and endlessly patient. Never mind that I took this same class with her a year and a half or or so ago; this time it REALLY clicked. After awhile the rhythm felt natural, I had no trouble keeping the wheel spinning clockwise, and my roving didn't break at all in the final 45 minutes of class. She described spinning as being perfect for those who need to be in control; while I can't say as I feel 'in control' with it just yet (and shudder at those words because everyone said a standard transmission would be great for me because I'm a control freak, but in fact, I found it more demanding and in control of me than a two-year old and hated that car!), I did have moments of feeling in sync, as if the wheel, the wool and my will all had the same destination in mind. Heady stuff.

Sunday Spinning

I'm all set for tomorrow's spinning class, the first in the year-long Sheep-to-Sweater series at Countrywool!

Unexpected Gifts

  Each January my job requires that for two weeks I leave for work before dawn, and return long after darkness enfolds the day in her arms. It's a rough schedule, and wears thin mighty quickly. But this morning as I walked to the car, the sharp waning crescent moon hung low in the barely blushing sky. I could just make out the pink-gray, snow-misty mountains, and a handful of fuzzy stars were still sprinkled across the sky. A few wormless early birds were streaking silhouettes, recognizeable only by size and shape.
  The river was pale and cold as I crossed the bridge, punctuated by those frozen puffs of steam that defy gravity, hanging above the smoke stacks as if velcroed in place. But the magic that made me smile as I wearily trudged into the building was the glitter. It was as if stars had fallen into the grass overnight. The hard frost sparkled in the parking lot lights, silver against the frozen white blades of grass. If I hadn't had to be at work so early today, I'd have missed the hidden, quiet beauty of this dawn. Didn't make me happy to be at work, but profoundly grateful for the secret grace of the morning.

Winter Saturday Morning

Thought I'd share my morning with you. First, I needed to pick up a little more yarn for Patrick's fledgling blanket, so headed off to

Needed a niddy noddy for the upcoming sheep-to-sweater class, so picked that up as well, and availed myself of Claudia's help in fixing the mistake it turns out I hadn't made. Thanks, Claudia!!

Then it was off to Acres Coop's Winter Market:

I see Curried-Carrot Parsnip Soup in the immediate future, along with roasted brussels sprouts.

One of my favorite vendors wasn't there, so the last stop was Lick.

Cheese and more cheese! I was restrained and just picked up one wedge of Hudson Red and some fresh mozzarella (for tonight's pasta with roasted garlic and mushrooms dinner).

Still have lots of chores, but my reward when it's done?

Wishing all of you a lovely Saturday, as well!

Cheated

  We live in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. It's January 12th. Know how much snow we've had? 4 1/2". Four of 'em in October. Nearing the end of a long tough week at work, made worse by a rip-roarin' stomach thing that left me feeling gutted by a backhoe, and dreaming of the weekend. We may not see snow but we're going to finally get some fresh, cold, crispy air (sounds like lettuce). I see spicy tea with honey, hot chocolate, blankets, and knitting by the fire. I'm making one of my sons a blanket (which will end up stashed away as a Christmas present, which will make me feel tremendously virtuous and ahead of the game in November!). Tried this thing over and over using circular needles and it just wasn't working for me. Then I got an idea from one of my favorite knitting resources to do it in squares and then 'sew' it all together with yarn. It's a checkerboard stitch, done in solid color squares (well, okay, square-ISH; measurements were off so it's actually going to be rectangles) of varying hues of blue, and will be sewn with cream-colored yarn.

  After the abundance of Christmas, when Linda and my sister had similar thoughts and each gifted me with roving in a dozen shades, I was faced with a dilemma. Between roving (alot) and yarn (a relatively small stash, but still), and assorted supplies for knitting and felting, the cedar chest simply couldn't keep up. It was already covered with four ugly totes, and still wool was tumbling about, begging to be used as Lola toys. A chance drive-by had alerted us to a barrister bookcase available at a very reasonable price and so:

Voila! Colorful, cozy, accessible wool--and I was able to bring my woolly books out of hiding! On top I put a wooden toolbox I'd bought for Linda years ago that hasn't been used because it was too impractical. It's perfect for storing everything from knitting and felting supplies to business cards. I even made myself a list of what's in what drawer, which is fantastically organized as long as I don't forget what drawer I put the list in (psst! it's in the top drawer; remind me if I forget, please).

I smile every time I walk into the livingroom and see all those colors begging to be touched and played with, glowing in the firelight.

Just Kidding....

I was serious, and I did mean it when I ended my blog. But the thing is, I miss it. I miss that sense of journaling, of recording what's happening in my world. So maybe it isn't the next great American novel. Maybe it isn't life-changing and mind-altering. It's still my work and it was a pleasure. So I need to write it for the pleasure of writing it. If I'm blessed with 'followers', I'll be grateful for each and every one. And if I'm not so blessed, well, fewer people are following my notebook scribblings...and I don't question their validity! Well, yeah, I do, but not because I'm the only one who sees 'em. Those discussions are between my Muse and my hypercritical self.
So I'm back to the blogging world. I have stuff to write about! I'm going to be taking a year-long sheep-to-sweater class and am captivated by Claudia of CountryWool describing it as a spiritual process. We're having serious chicken discussions again. I'm back on Weight Watchers and this time using a treadmill to make the goal of a healthy me a reality. It's gonna be a good year, so this Would-Be Mountain Womon is back!

A Fond Farewell

Two years ago I started this blog. There were lots of reasons, one of them being a gentle way to dip my toe back into the creative waters, ease my way into writing again. While it may have accomplished that to some degree, it also became a fall back. When I would try to prod myself into committing any of my thousand thoughts onto paper, I'd simply point out I was writing...the blog. 
But as time passes, it's feeling far too much like an exercise in vanity and self-indulgence. Although I'm profoundly grateful to those who have taken the time to read, comment on and follow my blog, and each of you is a blessing, I really feel like I'm only writing for myself and a handul of people. In blogger world, having only 26 followers after two years, most following out of a sense of reciprocity rather than enjoyment and seldom commenting or interacting, seems to indicate a definite lack on my part. Whether it's lack of focus, lack of anything relevant to say, lack of skill, or all of the above or something else, the words in each blog entry echo in the silence, and that echo is telling me to redirect my writing to something more focused and substantive. I can't use a lonely little blog to fulfill the imperative to write anymore.

And so...to all who have shared this time and space with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I've enjoyed this, and you.

Blessed Be.