Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


A snowy road

Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.



My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.



He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.



My favorite bridge



The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.



Amish buggy in the snow

I've begun another project. Two warm winter hats, knit at the same time on two circular knitting needles, using the same technique I use for socks.  I haven't had a lot of experience with color work, and so this project is a bit of a challenge for me!  I hope to have finished them by the time I leave for Germany, which will be in just a couple of weeks.   

Ogiku hats begun



Ogiku hats on the needles



Snowy me

Have I mentioned that I love winter?

When my cousin, Beth, saw this post on Facebook, she told the following story: " One of my favorite poems......when I taught third grade....I always presented a unit on Robert Frost. Whe Eric and I visited Vermont, we went up early for a Vermont Symphony Concert. It was being set up at Robert Frost's home. I was taking pictures of the house. When one of the men who was setting up noticed, he asked why I was taking pictures. I told him about my third graders. He asked if I would like to go inside....generally not allowed.....I said yes...very surprised. When I asked him why, he said, "If Mr. Frost knew you were teaching his poetry to third graders he would be thrilled." I still have those pictures. What an honor it was!
And, Becky, please add that after intially presenting the unit, one of my students....would walk in each morning and ask, "Can we please read one of Mr. Frost's poems today." Still brings a smile."


There are several books that I loved and always read in the winter to 'my' children when I ran our elementary-school library. I hope that you will share them with the children in your lives!

The Mitten, adapted and illustrated by Jan Brett

One of the teachers with whom I worked made and donated to the library a HUGE fleece mitten, big enough for several children to climb into, with a matching normal-sized mitten.  I would use it when I read the story.  I left it behind when I left the library to take another job. I hope it is still there and still being used!

Katy and the Big Snow, written and illustrated by Virginia Lee Burton

Especially good to read aloud on a very snowy day!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, written by Robert Frost and illustrated by Susan Jeffers

Ms. Jeffers used black-and-white illustrations with just the perfect touches of color, exactly the way a very snowy winter looks.

I love these socks :)

I already posted them, but here are some better pictures.

Opal Unicolor yarn in forest green and cocoa brown. I don't think I've ever been happier with a finished project.

 I'll be visiting the factory where the yarn was produced in just a few weeks!

pretty socks,  beautiful new hardwood floor!

my green socks

Michelle's brown socks

 Small Moments of Happiness

Often during my day I see small events and vignettes that make me smile for no tangible reason. They pass so quickly that I rarely have time to save them with a camera.  Instead,  I save them up in my mind, take them out in idle moments, and thumb through them like photographs.  
A pair of beagle pups, joyful, with ears flying, noses to the ground, and tails in the air, do what beagles do best.

Bicycles and buggies line up neatly beside the little one-room Amish schoolhouse I pass on my way to work.

Two young Amish girls ride in a pony cart in a snowstorm, a scarlet blanket wrapped snugly around their legs and vivid against the gray/black/white world, snowflakes gathering on their shoulders and laps.

Three white-tail does in a cornfield raise their heads and watch as I pass.
A man jogs alongside the road with two white dogs on leashes.
A vee of geese fly south against the winter sky.
The sun sinks behind the hills surrounding a local lake, and the last rays set the opposing shore afire.

Old chairs and bits and bobs of odd household items lined up on the grass in front of a great red barn to be sold to passersby.

The shepherd dog tied in a farmyard who runs back and forth at the end of his rope in an ecstasy of territorial protection every time I drive past.

Bright red cardinals in the trees behind my house.

Small moments of happiness.

It is a good season for knitting.  I've been doing a lot of it.  Here is another pair of socks, finished last week.  The yarn is Fortissima and the diagonal rib pattern is from a knitting stitch dictionary I own.  I used my favorite Eye-of-Partridge heel flap stitch, and a Dutch heel.



On my needles: an experiment in toe-up sock-knitting.

A Mystery Sock pattern from one of my Ravelry groups

A test of a fingerless-mitten pattern for another designer.

I'm  becoming very excited about my upcoming trip to Germany!

It's less than a month away now.

I still can hardly believe that it's really going to happen...I'm betting on a three-day blizzard, beginning on February 7th, and preventing my plane from leaving Detroit.

Another adventure at work...

I performed my own scientific test in the store the other day.

Two ceramic salad plates, one persimmon in color and the other vanilla.

My question was apparently to find which color of glaze makes a stronger plate.

Here is the result:

When dropped at the same time from a height of approximately seven-point-five feet upon the head of a five-point-five-foot person,

persimmon-glazed plates are harder than the person's head AND the floor.

Vanilla-glazed plates are harder than the person's head but NOT the floor.

The person's head, however, will be bruised equally by both colors.

This experiment will not be repeated.

I hope.

Happy New Year
Last year, one of my dearest friends asked me what my goals for 2011 were.  I answered, flippantly, "To survive it."  I had no idea what was in store for the year, and how hard it would be to attain even that silly goal.  This was a tough year, and I am very happy to see it in my rearview mirror.  I lost a couple of friends, made some new friends, had some hard times and some happy times.  I've done a lot of knitting, a lot of grieving, a lot of laughing, and a lot of thinking.  I would not want to repeat the year, but I'm glad I lived it. 
I have a lot to look forward to in 2012.  I have a trip to Germany coming up very soon, a lot of hugs coming from the grandkids, a great many days of sunshine and laughter on their way. 
I have a closetful of yarn and a headful of know-how, and will knit many more things in the months to come.

You all have a wonderful year. My dear friends and family, you are indispensable to me. Thank you for another chance to enjoy your contribution to my life, and for letting me be a part of yours.

Happy new year!

December Miscellany

 December is nearly over.  I took Christmas off this year. I couldn't find it in my heart to decorate.  I didn't put up a Christmas tree at home, nor did I bake a single cookie.  There was no chocolate-walnut fudge cooked or consumed in my house.

It felt pretty good!

Back to the mess next year, though.  I missed the Christmas tree.

There were some beautiful sights, even without all the trappings and tinsel.



Cardinals at the birdfeeder



A snowy path



All the time that I would have spent carrying boxes in from the barn, assembling and decorating the Christmas trees, setting out, wiring, and lighting my ceramic houses, baking, decorating, and cleaning up was put to very good use.

 A pair of socks in an old Opal test colorway, and a neckwarmer/headband in DK-weight wool.

Another pair of socks in hand-dyed wool for my niece, Dawn

I found a pattern for knee-high kilt hose knit in worsted-weight wool in the Fall, 2011, issue of 'Knitting Traditions'.  I love the look of the stockings, but I don't wear knee-high socks, and I didn't have any superwash worsted-weight on hand.

I adapted the pattern, called Borreraigh Kilt Hose, and this was the first result:

The yarn is Opal Uni-color in forest green.

I wasn't happy with the way one of the panels worked out, so I got out my pencil and re-wrote the pattern, and it turned out like this:

Also Opal Uni-color in a dark chocolate brown

This pair will be traveling to Germany with me in February as a gift for my friend, Michelle.

I wish you could see them in person...I think they turned out really well.  I'm calling the pattern Inspired because it was inspired by a truly lovely design.

My adaptations include changing the number of stitches, using a different cast-on, re-drafting and changing the spacing of the cuff diamonds, then working the cuff inside-out because I like the wrong side better, using a different style of heel flap and heel turn.

If you try to knit this pattern as published, be aware that there is an error in the stitch count!  It didn't matter for my socks, but I contacted the editor in charge of errata at 'Knitting Traditions' and the correction will probably show up in the next issue and/or on their Web site.

A Silly Story...

so, I was at the store a few weeks ago, moving some things around to make room for new stock.  I reached over the counter and grabbed a stack of merchandise to put out, walked to the display-in-progress and set up the items.  As I stood back to see how it looked, I thought, "Dang, I am having the WORST hot flash EVER!"

It was an odd one, though, focused under my right upper arm and down my right side, and it was HOT!  It didn't go away, either, and I stretched across with my left hand to feel my sweater...

and then, I remembered this.

The sign reads, "Caution! Wax may be hot!"

Yes, that is a tart-warmer, and that IS melted wax in it, and yes, yes, I DID reach across my own hand-written sign, thereby dipping my sweater sleeve into hot, melted wax.

My mom was right, I AM 'special'.

It was my favorite sweater, too. I managed to get all of the wax out of it, but I killed the sweater in the process.

(sigh)

Soon, a New Year. I am ready. 

The Library by Sarah Stewart
Illustrated by David Small

Those who know me know well my love of books and libraries.

I have always lived in a home that was filled with books. 

Books were always my first request at gift-giving times, and a stack of books was often to be found wrapped and tagged with my name beneath the Christmas tree.

The memory that may be my very earliest takes place in the tiny library in the town were I grew up.  I remember being at Story Hour, maybe three years old, sitting in a little wooden chair at a little wooden table in front of a sunny window with other little boys and girls, and coloring and cutting out a picture of an igloo.

Miss Lee was our librarian, and I suppose on that particular day she had read to us a story about children who lived in such a structure, and the 'art' project was meant to support the book.

Miss Lee...

oh my.

A tiny, ageless woman, who wore white blouses with short sleeves and Peter Pan collars, and full, pleated skirts.

She knew our families and our favorite types of books.  She knew what we had already read, and what we would be most happy reading next.

She knew our faces and names and library numbers.  It was never necessary for her to present library cards to us, for she had our very important borrower's numbers safeguarded in her memory.

Mine was 694

To this day, whenever I see that combination of numbers, I am transported back in time to happy days lost in the pages of a book.

Miss Lee had the MOST magical tool that she used to give us the greatest power in the world: the power held between the covers of books!

Her special tool was a little metal cap-thing that perched on the eraser end of her pencil.  It held tiny pink-rubber blocks with reverse-cut numbers and letters.

The little blocks were kept in a box in Miss Lee's large wooden desk.  Every day the library was open, her first task was to change them. She had a pair of tweezers with which to pluck the rubber pieces from the box and carefully insert them into the metal holder.  For each book I presented to her, she would press that end of her pencil against her well-inked stamp pad and then upon a slip of paper glued into the back of the chosen book, and voila!

Mar 6 60

My borrowed books were due back on the date stamped there.

She would reverse her pencil and use the point to write my own special number, 694, on the borrower's card and file it away to await the return of the precious book.

Miss Lee then handed the stack of books across her desk and into my eager hands, smiled, and sent me on my way.

I loved the library! I love libraries still.

I have spent countless hours in my life with my nose buried in a book. 

Even better, I have spent approximately seventeen years of my adult life doing much the same work as Miss Lee: putting books into the hands of children.

Through a series of poor career choices, I no longer work in libraries.  I miss that work every single day.  It was, with no debate, the most rewarding job of my life.

I still love books, though, and I read to my grandchildren whenever possible.  I wish I had many, many more children to whom I could read!

Yesterday was my day off.  I had a small extra job to do, but it took less time than I'd allotted for it, so I cast about for something to fill a couple of hours.

I drove to my oldest grandson's school and asked if I could do some volunteer work there.

Maybe I could help the library aide?

The school secretary handed me a form to fill out for a criminal record check (yes, even volunteers have to undergo these things to work in a school now), phoned the Superintendant of Schools office, and said I could, indeed, work in the library!

JOY!

It may seem strange, but it was among the happiest two hours I can remember!

I shelved books.

It sounds silly, doesn't it?

I carried stacks of books from the shelves behind the aide's desk and placed them in their homes on the shelves, to await the next interested child.

It was like a reunion with old friends.

I saw titles that I knew so well from my nine years in the elementary school library.

I remembered finding them for the children, placing them in their eager hands, reading them aloud during class library visits.

What fun!

I even found a few stray children to listen as I read a paragraph or two aloud.

When one asked, "How do you know where the books go on the shelves?"
I explained that the number on the spine of every book is its address, like the address of the child's home.

That number tells us where the book 'lives' and how we can find it.

It was a marvellous afternoon.

I will go back and do it again as soon as I can!

First Snowstorm

Yesterday was the first Big Snow for this winter. It began in the afternoon, and by evening several inches had fallen, making roads slick and difficult to travel.

My usual twenty-five minute drive home from work took over an hour.



Early evening, Amish horse and buggy

The wet, heavy snow brought down branches and broke electric lines, causing power failures throughout the area.  Service was restored to my house at around 2:00 am.

I awoke this morning to sunshine and the special silence of a world blanketed in snow.

Even the wire fences were jacketed, and every fence post had its snowy hat

A stretch of open water along my drive to work



Brilliant sunshine on icy branches

The daylight hours are growing very short, and I need my headlights for the drive home from work now.  In less than a month, though, the days will begin growing longer once again.

Spring will come, as it always does.

Until then, we have snow and the beauty of winter.

Life is good!

A single yellow flower

Because yellow is my favorite color, and it is a dark and dreary day here.

Yellow cheers me, and reminds me of good friends.

:)

and two pair of finished socks for my grandsons.

The little ones are Ethan's, in some leftover Regia (I think) from my sister's stash. 

The larger pair is Robby's, in DK weight, I think Emu, from my stash, in Green Bay Packers colors.  He wanted house socks in orange (his favorite color), but I didn't have any DK orange in my stash, and I am knitting entirely from stash at the moment.

Nothing much new going on. Thanksgiving was very nice and I am now a year older, having turned fifty-five on Thanksgiving Day.

I qualify now for the Senior Discount at the movie theater.

(sigh)

Giving Thanks
It is Thanksgiving Day in the USA today.  The turkey is roasting, pies are baked, the cream is whipped, the gelatin dessert is cooling in the refrigerator.  In a little while the second flurry of preparation will begin.  I will have eleven here for dinner today, and the table will be full! I'm looking forward to all the good company, good food, and hugs from my grandchildren. 

This is a time to remember and give thanks for the blessings of the previous year, although I do try very hard to do that every day.  This year I am thinking much of my sister, who left us in 2010, the two dear friends I lost in the spring of this year, my mother and my husband's parents, gone so many years now.  I remember the family and friends who are far away, and the ones who are near.  I remember the sunny days of my childhood, and many, many happy times over the past fifty-five years.  It's a good thing to stop and make a special effort to do this, as we so often lose track of those we love, in our busy lives and day-to-day worries.

I am thankful for all of the wonderful people who have graced my life and for all the special and also the ordinary places I've seen.  I'm thankful for good health, strong hands, hugs and kisses, sunshine and snowfall, all the creatures of this earth (well, maybe not so grateful for spiders, but I suppose they have their place, too), for the flowers and the trees and the grasses, for lakes and rivers and especially for the little stream that cuts through my back yard.  I am so very thankful to be alive and well and able to prepare a feast for some of the people that I love.
Have a happy Thanksgiving!

Small Joys...



Someone once told me that we are never farther than three miles from open water here in Michigan.  This little lake is the site of many happy days in my life.  My uncle and his brother-in-law built a tiny stone cottage on its banks many years ago and that is the place where my family reunion has been held every summer, for as long as I can remember.



Marl Lake Sunset



Last evening, there was a particularly lovely sunset and I stopped on my way home to snap a couple of quick shots with my phone camera.  I need to remember to carry a regular camera in the car!



A delightfully tacky Christmas shirt







 Christmas colors:

...and socks colorful enough to give the shirt a run for its money.



Santa is something of a landmark in the town where I work.  He has been at the window of my little shop for many years.  This year I took him home and replaced his faded trousers with a new pair.  Last year he fell out of the window during a windstorm, and it looked for all the world as if Santa had actually fallen from the sky and died on the roof of Apple Creek Alley...we got him down as quickly as possible, so as not to traumatize any small children!

Twenty-four hours

Thursday morning.

Most of the autumn color has gone now, but this small pear tree, planted two falls ago, retains its bright leaves.

 The marsh is preparing for winter.  The grass is still green, although it has stopped growing.

In the afternoon, it began, the first snowfall of this winter.

The sky darkened and the snow fell;

great, splashing flakes that quickly covered the ground.

The ride home was white and wet and I was filled with wonder at the beauty of this fresh winter.

I must re-learn now to move a bit more slowly, to drive more carefully, to mind my steps and take my time.

There was a full moon in the night.

It cast its light on the snow-covered earth and woke me.

I burrowed beneath the covers and went peacefully back to sleep.

And, in the morning, this:

...and this:

 I love the snow.

It is a balm, a comfort, a quilt of crystal-white to cover a sleeping world as it rests and dreams, perhaps, of the coming spring.

It would be very easy to forget that winter can also be an enemy,

a predator,

a force with which to be reckoned.

Living where I do, I know that we must learn to work with winter, to prepare, to watch, to be aware of sudden changes in temperatures and conditions and even then, sometimes, humans lose their battle with the elements.

Even so, I love winter, and I cannot imagine living where it does not come in this way.

A Wintry, Blustery Day 

It has been gray, cloudy, and windy, but still relatively mild for the third of November.  The skies have been pewter-colored all day, and it is lightly raining right now, with a temperature of around 48 degrees F.

I had the day off and around eighty miles of errands to run. I had not visited our local covered bridge in many years, so I stopped along the way to do a little sight-seeing.  The river is wide here, and it must have been a cold and windy trip indeed, crossing the St. Joseph River before the bridge was erected. 

 The Langley Covered Bridge has been carefully preserved over the years.  It still sees quite a bit of use, as the country road crossing it leads directly into Centreville, Michigan, the county seat.  In the five minutes or so that I spent there taking pictures, at least a half-dozen passenger cars and trucks rumbled across.



Hats in progress



Done, and done. Two "Jacques Cousteau" hats for my friends, Steve and Bob, and the Wild and Wooly Socks pattern test for Kathy Nehrenz.  As you can see, the chrysanthemums have faded considerably in the past week.

This is a wonderful pair of billboards that I pass on my drive home from work every day. 

I was a great fan of Jim Henson and his Muppets. 

I've always listed these three things as my Impossible Dreams:

1. Work for Jim Henson at his Muppet Workshop

2. Go up in the U.S. Space Shuttle

3. Sing backup for James Taylor

Well.

1. Jim Henson died

2. NASA never called and there will be no more shuttle flights now

3. James Taylor has been singing with the same group of backup vocalists for at least twenty years now.

(sigh)

And the other one...well, you know who you are.

The red billboard reads,

"This year, thousands of men will die from stubbornness"

Get a physical.

Stay healthy.

We care.