Fresh

I've been making sure I have flowers on my desk. Just a few tulips, usually. I buy them with the groceries, and pretend they are food, which I guess they are — food for my eyes and spirit. I smile whenever I look at them. Tulips don't have much of a scent, but there's a cool freshness that surrounds them like an aura.

Flowers on my desk are such a small way to lift my spirits. Are there little things you do for your Self, too?

Almost

Soon, the buds are telling me, soon. This morning I noticed that the maple branches are beginning to turn red at the tips, and I had to wait for a flock of turkeys to cross Noyac Road. Before long, yellow daffodils will burst open, brown will be replaced by green, and the turkeys will be leading their poults.

Soon.

I hope you have a lovely weekend — eat lots of chocolate, and hug your families!

Overtaken

You know how it is — you're surfing Ravelry, maybe cleaning things up a bit. You come across a pattern you added to your queue a couple of years ago. You click on it, then go take a look at what else the designer has listed. Just casually, you know. Then there it is: the next thing you want to knit.

The pattern is Zephyr Cove by Romi Hill, part of the "Home is Where the Heart Is" collection of small shawls. I wanted to use the same colors she used in the sample — green and blue — so I went into my stash and came up with several possibilities. None of the combinations seemed to be what I wanted, until this: one of my favorite yarns, Brooklyn Tweed LOFT. The green is "Artifact" and the blue is "Old World."

I've been overtaken by a new project, one with a delightful little leaf at the beginning. I think I know how this day is going to go.

Being at home

I've been spending almost all of my time at home, for weeks now. First, there was the move that the bookstore was making, and there wasn't going to be a place for me to work until things were settled in the new space, so I brought my office home. That fit the timing for the surgery I was going to have, which meant that I'd need to be home to recuperate.

The surgery (repair to scar tissue left from previous surgeries) went well, but the work did not. I was working on our website as usual, but while I was, the bookstore was making some hard decisions. The website was eliminated, and so was my job.

Losing my job is a subject for another time. What I'm thinking about today is how much I love my home, my tiny space, my little calm place. It was remade by my sister Sarah when she came to be with me for the surgery, and on the final day, just a few hours before she had to leave, we took pictures of the amazing transformation. My mother's dresser, her little overnight case on top; my knitting spot on the couch, the new television. There's much more that you can't see in one photograph.

And there in the middle: the beautiful, beautiful quilt Sarah made for me, which she put the finishing touches on while I was sleeping.

There's no place like home, is there?

Being a Jane

Rachel and her Jane (2010)

I had an encounter yesterday that didn’t evaporate during the night, and that is still sitting in my gut. A woman I know fairly well—my age, with grown children, who thinks of herself as a feminist, a forward-thinking and compassionate woman, and a nurturer—made some remarks that astonished me, and left me reeling a bit. I have a few things to say about it.

First, some background: I’m not a mother. I didn’t give birth to or adopt children. Rosemary, as dear as she is to me, is a cat and not a substitute child. 

However, I am a kind of parent. I am a Jane. There are children in my life, all grown now, who have counted on me, come to me, needed me in mundane and extraordinary circumstances. I changed diapers, read bedtime stories, had adventures, dried tears, watched “Milo and Otis” too many times, rocked babies, cooked meals, righted wrongs, gave advice, helped with homework, enforced rules, endured more school plays than any parent I know, gave first aid, made mistakes, played Go Fish, and cheered from the bleachers at little league games. I didn’t want to be a mother to all those children, because what I was and am is as satisfying and just as necessary. I am Jane, their Jane, the one and only.

Those children—the ones going off to college or raising children of their own or venturing out into the great big world—know the difference between their parents and their Jane. The parents—their actual mothers and fathers—have for the most part fostered my relationships with their children. There are benefits to them, too. And being a Jane, like being a mother, is a real job.

So back to the conversation: I was explaining to the woman I know fairly well that I'm going to spend part of Labor Day weekend taking Rachel to college in Maine. I’m one of her parents, I said, and I have the same responsibility to her as you do to your children. Her voice grew so chilly that I’m surprised the phone receiver didn’t ice over. It’s not at all the same as it is for me and my children. Not at all. It’s not as important. 

Where did that come from? I know that she is proud of the children that she and her husband raised, and that she loves them deeply, and that they have grown up well because of that. Somehow I threatened her, and so she tried to obliterate the truth of what I was saying. I began to get angry, really angry. But in a split second I decided to hold tight to what I know—that there is more than one kind of parent—so I waited. She flailed. I don’t know the history of your relationship with Judy’s children, she said.

No, Woman I Know Fairly Well, you don’t, and it’s too bad.

Obviously, her children never had a Jane of their own, poor things. There must have been no room for one, no room for someone else to love them, befriend them, or take care of them. They missed out on the fortune of having an extra parent, the awesomeness of having a Jane.

What does this have to do with knitting? I don't know, but I'm going to knit while I ponder.

Representing

I can't show you all the knitting and the washing and the blocking that went on here yesterday, so I'll give you this: Clara's biscuit recipe (modified a little) with fresh peaches and sweetened yogurt (because I was too lazy to go out for cream, and besides, it's a little healthier).

The big knitting projects will be revealed before long.

Love came down at Christmas

My sweet mother had a difficult relationship with Christmas. She loved the idea of it, and she loved all our family's traditions — she created many of them, after all. But Christmas also tended to disappoint her sometimes, especially when it wasn't picture-perfect. In a family of nine, things were rarely picture-perfect; we didn't notice, but she did.

When we were growing up our parents created a magical time for us every year, and Gig's creativity and ingenuity were woven through the season — themed Christmas trees, pfeffernüsse cookies, actually-delicious fruit cake, beautiful arrangements of greens and decorations that filled the house, a Christmas morning that was staged as carefully as a Broadway theater set — and often, there were gifts she made herself.

My mother loved to sew. She sewed for most of her life; her mother was a seamstress as well. She made most of my sisters' and my clothes when we were growing up — in the early 1960's she made my sister Sarah and me two beautiful Easter outfits that included reversible linen coats — and she kept at it long after I was grown. When the grandchildren began arriving, starting in 1970, she kept sewing, and she concentrated on Christmas.

Each year seemed to have a theme — I wish I could remember them all. The nightgowns and footie pajamas, stick horses, teddy bears, pillows in the shape of letters for each child, shiny stuffed fish. There might have been dinosaurs, and there must have been others that I just can't remember.

In March, when I came home from Gig's memorial service and that short but amazing visit with my entire family, something began to take shape in my knitter/auntie/crazy-woman brain. What if I were to knit something — some little something — for those nieces and nephews, and their children, the way Gig had sewed for them? Just because I love them. I would be casual about it, and I would knit throughout the year. Things I might want to knit anyway, with yarn I probably already had. My Family Project began.

So I knit things all year long. When I finished, there were seven scarves, five pairs of mitts, and fifteen hats. For my family, and their families and beloveds — for Melody, Sylvester, A'Court, Cynthia, Susan, Ava, Lindsey, Chris, Oliver, Emily, Kylie, Jacob, Amy, Sophie, Sam, Dylan, Will, Rachel, Rebecca, Ben, Angela, another Dylan, Varan, Valerie, Kaiden, Robin, and Matt.

The photo is a link to the Family Project  Flickr page.

On this Christmas morning I am imagining my family, all opening their little packages, smiling as they remember how much Gig loved us, and I hope they know how much I love them. And wherever you are, whoever you're with — and picture-perfect Christmas or not — I hope this day is filled with love that wraps you up in a warm hug.

"Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Star and angels gave the sign."

Christina Rossetti

Pink

This year, my Christmas Cactus bloomed at the end of October. This Pink knitting happened at about the same time. Here are two additions to my Family Project, in Good Karma Farm Yarn merino and alpaca. It's a pleasure to knit, and the color is just girly enough!

Found

Her name is Rosemary, and a few days ago she found the hole in my heart and stitched it up.

We're just getting to know each other, we two, but I know this: a cat who places her paw in your hand, ever so gently, and lets it rest there — that cat is your cat, and you are her person.

Rosemary came to me — along with her sweet name — from ARF, one of our local rescue organizations. Annabelle was an ARFan, too.

I do knit, and I do have pictures, but I will save them for next time. I've been completely consumed by Rosemary, of course, but also by a monumental project at work. I rarely write about my job (I try not to), but I'm in charge of our new website, and I've been busy putting it together. It launched yesterday and I'm pretty pleased with it.  Go take a look when you have a minute.

This Sunday I'll be at SBUMC Cancer Center to celebrate National Cancer Survivor's Day, and I'll be at a special breakfast for those of us who are participating in clinical trials. I'm so happy to be here, three years after my diagnosis of uterine cancer, and so honored to be helping find better treatment for my sisters who will be diagnosed in the future. All the research money in the world (and all the pink stuff we're encouraged to buy) won't get rid of cancer without patients and doctors participating in clinical trials. Just sayin'.

Where I'll be

This is my birthday furniture, and it's my new favorite place to be. When the oak pollen has finished making my life difficult, I'll sit here with my knitting and a big glass of iced tea. There will be flowers, and maybe a little table.

The chair was a gift from my friend Judy, the ottoman was from my sister Ellen, and the pillow was stitched by my sister Sarah. There are also plants from the Remarkable R's. Their brilliant gift coordination helped turn my little deck at the top of the stairs into a wonderful place to relax and enjoy the summer!

Just like today

Errands, Long Beach, housekeeping, knitting.

Just a typical day off, nothing special. Ho-hum.

I'd like all my days off to be days like today, please!

Random things that are rattling around in my head:

• Rhinebeck is just over three weeks away! Road trip with the girls!
• I have started doing some Christmas knitting and shopping, which is not at all like me.
• Yesterday's Ten on Tuesday was a wake-up call. What is sour milk doing taking up space in my fridge? And more important, why did I tell the world about it?
• There's a little house that I pass on my way to Sag Harbor that I have dreamed about living in since I moved here in 1993. It's tucked under the trees, right on Noyac Road. Why doesn't anyone live there? What is its story? Today I went as far as deciding that a few trees would need to come down so there would be more light inside. Edited to add: This is the house on Google Street View. Isn't it darling?
• Days off should last longer than 24 hours, especially if they are days like today.

Ten on Tuesday: Mood Lifters

This week's Ten on Tuesday is all about lightening your mood...

 1. Buy yourself a nice bouquet of flowers.

2. Get a little love from the cat. Even if she won't let you pick her up and give her a squeeze, she loves you.

3. Have some comfort food. One of my favorites is a nice bowl of Cream of Wheat, because my grandmother used to make it for us.

4. Enjoy a sunset by the water.

5. Watch a favorite movie. I like Meet Me in St. Louis, even when it's not Christmas time.

6. Listen to some good music that makes you smile. For me, that's The Weepies.

7. Rest. Don't climb into bed and never leave, just close your eyes for a little while. When I was sick I learned how to rest, and it's served me well. Our bodies and spirits need it, especially when we're overwhelmed or blue.

8. Look up.

9. Have a knitting-in-your-pajamas day.

10. Celebrate yourself. Don't ever forget to do that. ♥

Ten on Tuesday: Bacon?

Ten Reasons to Love Bacon

1. It's salty.
2. It's crispy (at least that's the way I like it).
3. Bacon goes with eggs, and I love eggs.
4. It smells soooo good when it's cooking.
5. BLT's aren't possible without it.
6. Neither is Cobb salad.
7. They serve it at the Eveready Diner in Hyde Park, on the way to Rhinebeck.
8. If I'm going to eat meat, I may as well enjoy some bacon.
9. Since I don't eat bacon very often, when I do, it's a special occasion.
10. Where would this Ten on Tuesday be without bacon?

Bouquet

I found more than fresh vegetables at the farm stand today.

My Wednesday was beautiful, fragrant, and restorative. I hope yours was, too!

Fruits of Summer

These are the prettiest apricots I've seen this year. And they're just delicious -- sweet, a little tart, and perfect in every way. They come from Red Jacket Orchards in Geneva, NY; not exactly local, but in the same state, at least.

So, I didn't begin another Baktus. Not this week, at least. This is Stephen West's Herbivore. The yarn is String Theory Selku, which is a 50/50 Merino and Silk blend. The color is called Earthquake. I have a couple of skeins that I got at last year's Knitters Review Retreat, and I don't think this scarf will take more than one. I know, I'll save the other one for a Baktus!

Ten on Tuesday: Where I Live

Ten things I like about where I live:


 1. My little home.

2. The beach at the ocean.

3. The beach on the bay.

4. Small-town-ness.

5. Friends nearby.

6. Local berries.

7. Big sky.

8. Beautiful light.

9. Inspiration.

10. All the seasons.