Merry Holidays to One and All!
It has been a quiet Christmas here at SunnyBrook. Christmas Eve was spent with dear friends, and Christmas Day was at home in pajamas until evening, then a visit to my dad's to see him and my brother from Canada. The grandchildren called on the phone to tell me what Santa had brought them...they were very excited! They'll be here for presents on Sunday. 

Jeanie's New Socks

There is fresh snow this morning and it has been very cold and dark, some days. I still love winter, nonetheless! It was so frigid one morning last week that the air sparkled with ice crystals. The sun shone brightly that morning and it looked as though I was being showered with diamond dust.


There has, of course, been knitting, although nothing terribly exciting. A pair of socks for my cousin:

An advent mystery knit-along. The pattern was for a scarf, but I made a few 'small' modifications, and mine will be stopped short, lined, and turned into a project bag, I think:

Sock Madness Forever Advent Scarf KAL

I love the bees! They were one of my modifications.

My Christmas Shimmer Walk Tree

My store is resplendent for Christmas:

Rudolph, the red-nosed PT Cruiser

Even my car is dressed for the season, as am I:

Becky, in scarf and FrigNhat

I received a lovely gift from one of my online knitting friends:

Stroopwafels!

It is a tin, decorated like Dutch Delftware, and three delicious packages of Stroopwafels, all the way from the Netherlands! These are cookies made from two thin, crispy waffles and filled with caramel. You place one over the top of your hot cup of coffee or tea, and the caramel warms and softens...Yummy!
There is much talk of these treats in one of my online knitting groups, and I have been wanting to taste them. :o)

There is a blog that I love to read, written by a woman in the far northern reaches of Europe. Lene writes with grace, beauty, and deep love for nature and the ways of the world. She is endlessly creative. I never leave her blog without feeling warmed, calmed, centered. Visit Dances With Wool, and find a little peace for yourself.

There has been another friend lost. George Hudson, known from our motorcycle forum as "1lonereb" died unexpectedly in his sleep a week or so before Christmas. He was one of 'my' chatters, a dear, funny, eloquent man, passionately in love with his wife, their little granddaughter, and motorcycling. His wife phoned me to share the sad news. He was far too young and will be deeply missed.

Merry Christmas, a little late, and a happy, healthy, and prosperous 2014 to you all.

Because they're too beautiful to share a post with anything else:

Judy's Beanpole Socks

My Dutch-heel conversion

Inside out and right side out

I knit these for my co-worker, Judy, who has made the transition from the old store to the new one so very easy for me!  

Judy loves the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, and so these socks are in her favorite colors of Irish Kelly green and navy blue. They were a real challenge to knit. The pattern is the same one I used for an earlier pair of socks, but much more difficult this time because the contrast is stronger with these two colors and so every mistake shows right up.  I have carefully photographed them to avoid showing the worst errors!

In the original pattern, designed by "Hypercycloid" for one of my Ravelry groups, the band of patterning that runs down the center front and back of the socks was interrupted for the heel shaping.  I did a little bit of re-designing, replacing the original pattern's heel turn with a Dutch heel so that the band could continue uninterrupted.

I also changed the way the toes were worked.  The pinstripes and center band were supposed to extend all the way to the ends of the toes, but my brain was just worn out from all the patterning, and I couldn't make it work as written. Instead, I just used alternating rings of color to finish them.

I delivered the socks to Judy Friday evening, in time for her to wear to the Notre Dame game on Saturday...I hope they kept her feet warm in the frigid weather we had that day!

Today was my fifty-seventh birthday. I spent it quietly at home. I had a visit from the kids and grandkids, did some knitting, watched football and napped. It's good to be another year older. :)

Small Happinesses...
Some days contain small moments of happiness. Here are a few of mine:

Four grandkids in constant motion

Six beautiful kittens presented by Pearl. Three are already gone to new homes. I still have three little gray cuties, if you're interested...

One glorious sunset:

Two pairs of socks finished, and one more begun:

Socks for Captain Bob, my own design

Dutch Affair Socks, pattern by Dutch designer Erry Pieters-Korteweg, yarn by Rhichard Devries in "Torrid Affair"

Socks for co-worker Judy, in her favorite Fighting Irish colors of navy and Kelly green

And then, there are these oddities that come to visit in damp weather:

 They are huge, maybe as tall as eight or nine inches, and I'm pretty sure they're toxic....

I have nothing profound to say today. It's cool and drizzly outside, and I will not spend my day off mowing for the last time this year, as I'd planned. Snow is forecast for Wednesday. I think that I shall knit.

Christmas is coming, and I have projects to plan.

William at Chattamoochie

Another passing
We have lost a very fine man. Mr. William McGee, of Tuscumbia, Alabama, husband, father, grandfather, friend, soldier and patriot, successful businessman, motorcyclist, citizen of the world at large, was taken from us two weeks ago by cancer. I knew William from the motorcycle forum and chat room that I frequent. He came into chat at first as the friend and riding companion of one of the regular chatters, and stayed to become very dear to those of us who were lucky enough to know him.

JP, me, William... "patpatpat"

Mr. William, or just Wm as we came to call him, was a true original. He was a prankster who loved to pull tricks on all of us, and who loved it even more when we managed to pull one on him though it was rare, indeed, to get one past him. 
He loved riding motorcycles, especially the Honda Valkyrie. He kept two of these beautiful bikes to ride, and considered any day that he was able to get out and travel a few miles on one of the Valks to be a perfect day.

At the Harrison, Arkansas, gathering

William's Valkyries

 He loved his friends, and was intensely loyal to those he cared for.  He adored Ms. Nina, his high-school sweetheart, wife, mother of his children.  We are all most fortunate to have known him, and to have been loved by him.  We will miss him deeply.  

Mr. William waiting for the Bull Shoals Ferry

JP, William, Wormy (top) on the ferry

Very full bellies after lunch at JoJo's Restaurant in Arkansas
Gail, William, Becky, Snoop, Rita, Frig, Larry, Joyce, Michael, Rickey and Denise, Banana Boy Jerry and Kathey, Dick Pointer, Steve and Sheila, Russ in back row
Rich, Boyd, JP in front row

JP and William

So long, William. I'll see you later, sir.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Not much in the line of finished knitting to show.  Just these:

But they are quite lovely!
Be well. Be strong. Be happy.

Thoughts on visiting another country (sort of), missing my mom, and on growing older...and of course, there is knitting!


We went for a ride on BUS-B (the Butt-Ugly Silver Bike) today, around two hundred miles with no real destination in mind. We ended up in Holland...Holland, Michigan, that is, a lovely town a couple of hours away from home. Holland is in an area that has been heavily settled by immigrants from the Netherlands, and which includes the towns of Zeeland and Hudsonville (home of wonderful ice cream!), and the city of Grand Rapids (home of the Meijer store chain, the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum and Library, and the Frederik Meijer Sculpture Garden, and of my old friend, Phil...Hi, Phil!). It is a lovely set of towns there, the Dutch influence strongly evidenced in the tulip farms, windmill-, Delft pottery- and klompen-themed tourist attractions, tidy hip-roofed houses, neatly groomed lawns, and businesses whose names are filled with the letter 'y' and double vowels, beginning with 'van' or 'van der' and ending in 'ema', and 'stra'.

The route covered a particularly beautiful section of Michigan. Rolling farmland, orchards and vineyards lined the roads. I saw many apple trees of all varieties, growing unattended near abandoned remnants of old farmsteads and fruit stands, the branches heavily loaded this year with fruit. Last year's fruit crops in Michigan were decimated by extremely high temperatures and very limited rainfall. It was wonderful to see how nature has come back so strongly. I wondered if any of the trees I saw today in the middle of nowhere might be 'lost' or 'forgotten' strains. They were all most certainly hardy varieties, able to survive with no pruning or pesticides for many years, judging by the heights they'd attained.

I bought five pounds of freshly-picked blueberries at a farm market. This was their last day of picking for the year, so I am very glad we went out on this day. I bought ten pounds at an Amish stand north of the town where I work earlier this summer, but put most of those in the freezer for pies and cobblers this winter.. I love fresh blueberries, and will probably eat most of the ones I bought today like candy! There were many fruit stands open along the route. Most still have plenty of tomatoes, cucumber, sweet corn to offer, and some had freshly-dug potatoes for sale, as well.


We hosted, as we do each summer, an extended version of my husband's family reunion in early August, and had a wonderful time, as always. We did have one fairly unruly and disobedient young man present, and he decided to hide one of a pair of walkie-talkies, rather than share it with the other children. Today, I spent most of the morning excavating a storage area on the second floor of the house in an effort to find said radio and let me tell you, when you often work six-day weeks, spending half of one precious day off on such a pursuit does not put one in the best of moods. The lost is, however, now found, and while searching I stumbled across some forgotten things that were stored up there.

Quilt blocks: Double Irish Chain and Robbing Peter to Pay Paul patterns

My mother was a quilter. She loved cutting up yards and yards of perfectly good fabric, sewing it back together, and assembling it into beautiful blankets or pillows, which she would then hand-quilt and give to those she loved.

When she died, I was given her fabric stash, patterns, quilt stencils, tools, and unfinished projects, and today I found a box containing several works-in-progress and leftover parts and pieces from finished quilts. In the box were extra blocks from a quilt she made as a Christmas gift to my husband and I nearly twenty years ago. It was amazing to see how bright the blues and creams of the fabric were when they were new, as the actual quilt has been much-used and shows its age. I also found unused blocks from the quilt she made my son as his graduation gift. That was the last project she completed, as she died unexpectedly, early in the morning after his high-school commencement. I have the very last project that she began, a pillow top worked in the Polynesian style, her favorite, with a pink design appliqued on a cream-colored background. Her needle is still tucked into the fabric, just as she left it when she went to bed that evening.

My mother has been gone more than fifteen years now. The pain of her absence has faded with the years, and it is only on certain occasions that I realize just how much I miss her, and how much we lost when she passed on. She left us with a strong legacy of love and generosity, great humor and patience (most of the time!), but a fairly impressive vocabulary of foul language for the times when that patience failed her, an intense desire to hug and be hugged, to help others, to work hard and never say “I can't...”, to cherish family and friends, and to enjoy each day. Her childhood was difficult, her last years filled with pain and illness, but her love and laughter always shone through.

I look at my hands, the fingers beginning to ache and twist with arthritis, and my knees, grinding and painful with the same, and realize that she had two artificial knees by the time she was my age! I remember her asking my sister and I to come help her wash windows, as it hurt her hands to do that, and realize now that yes, it surely does hurt one's arthritic hands to wash windows! I limp through the house and understand that it's only a matter of years, and not very many years, before I will be walking with a cane or will have to have my joints replaced with titanium and stainless steel, and I wish I could talk to Mom about that. It frustrates me and makes me angry to walk so slowly and hesitantly, to have to take stairs two-footed instead of dashing up and down them, and to be stopped mid-stride when a knee seizes and binds (my mother's foul vocabulary doesn't make it hurt any less, but it gives me something to do while I wait for the pain to stop!) at this really not-so-very-advanced age that I have attained.

I wish that she could meet my grandchildren. She was gone many years before they were born, and I know she would have loved them.

I wish that she could see the store I manage. She would have loved it, too, and would have been very proud of the work that I do there.

I wish she could see this house that we are building.

I wish that she could have ridden on one of the motorcycles I've ridden over the past twelve years...she loved my little MG Midget that I drove before my son was born. I didn't ride motorcycles while she was alive.

I wish she could have met the friends I've made in the last fifteen years. She would have loved them, and they would have adored her.
I do miss her. We were so very, very lucky to have her in our lives.

Mom, probably around 1982

Robby came for a visit. He loves to just hang out by the little stream in my back yard, much more so than my other grandchildren. Andrea and Layla worry about snakes and bugs, and Ethan is just much too active and 'busy' to be attracted to that sort of quiet time. I made a little net from a thin, cotton bag, an old wire coat hanger, and a handful of tiny brass safety-pins, and Grandpa made a handle for it from a paint roller handle extension. Robby spent nearly six hours wading in the stream, catching minnows and water bugs, and generally having a splendid time!

Wading in the stream...and growing so tall I can hardly believe it

Waiting for the big ones

Pudgy came to help

All of the best stuff is under the bridge...

Lunch break while Grandpa takes a turn

I recently was given the opportunity to review a knitting book that will be published this fall. The title is Follow the Yarn, the Knitting Wit and Wisdom of Ann Sokolowski, by Reba Linker. It is an exploration of a friendship that grew between two women as one taught the other to knit. It is a chapbook by which to learn knitting skills from basic to advanced, but more than that, it is the story of how one person can inspire, teach, and empower others, while sitting at a table and making loops in string. The reader will find tips and tricks, stitch samplers, beginning and finishing methods and techniques, as well as a chronicle of relationships forged with fiber and sticks. One can use the phrase “knitting together” in various ways, and Ms. Sokolowski and Ms. Linker certainly knit together in the very best meaning of the phrase.

I am honored to have been allowed to read an advance copy of Follow the Yarn, and wish great success to Ms. Linker in its publication.Follow the Yarn will be published in paperback this fall, and will be available at Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com
In the meantime, readers can get a pdf copy of Follow the Yarn by donating as little as $5 to our Indiegogo campaign at http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/follow-the-yarn/x/3505993 (campaign ends July 9), or they can get a FREE CHAPTER of Follow the Yarn by signing up at: http://eepurl.com/A6w8v (emails will be kept strictly confidential - they will NEVER be given to a third party)
Last but not least, learn more at http://www.RebaLinker.com



Of course there has been knitting. I have finished this pair of socks:

Walking Through the Maze Gardens, probably already posted, but it won't hurt anyone's eyes to see them again!

And this pair:

Fall Creek Rib, a prize I gave at the Tennessee Lunch Run last April

and this pair:

"The Captain's Steps", designed and knit for the Captain's Wife

Both of the last two are of my own design. I have begun this pair:

Beanpole Socks, a mystery knit-along, pattern by Hypercycloid at Ravelry, yarn is Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks That Rock in Falcon's Eye, and a soft yellow from Louet Gems Opal

and this pair:

Another pair of "The Captain's Steps" socks, this time for the Captain, himself

and this pair:

Katwijker Frok by Erry Pieters-Korteweg, my favorite Dutch sock-pattern designer, in "Torrid Affair" hand-painted yarn from Rhichard Devries

and have several projects waiting to be begun. Idle hands are, after all, the Devil's playthings. . . : )



Be well. Be strong. Be happy.

A Taste of Blackberries...

is the title of a beautiful, heart-rending story for kids. The perimeter of the yard at our house is filled with wild black raspberry bushes. The brambles are vicious and they often leave me scratched and bloody when I mow, but the berries are so sweet and juicy and flavorful that I always watch with great anticipation for the first ripe fruit of the summer. My oldest grandson is a very good berry-picker, and he always enjoys helping me harvest and eat them.

Last summer's extreme heat and drought meant that there were few berries, and those that survived were small and seedy.  This year, however, we have had plentiful rain at just the right times, and the bushes are heavy with fruit.

Yesterday evening after work, I went out and picked berries. It started to rain as I worked, but the overhanging trees kept me nearly dry.  I left many raspberries behind for the birds and deer, but harvested enough to make a splendid batch of jam!

There was rain again today, heavy rain with lightning and thunder.  At its highest, the little stream was even with the top of the bridge, but it had subsided a bit by the time I got home.

The waterfall at the far end of the yard sang as the stream spilled over the stones.

Come sit with me on this summer porch

and watch the rain...