Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

My Hand

See how the past is not finished
here in the present
it is awake the whole time
never waiting
it is my hand now but not what I held
it is not my hand but what I held
it is what I remember
but it never seems quite the same
no one else remembers it
a house long gone into air
the flutter of tires over a brick road
cool light in a vanished bedroom
the flash of the oriole
between one life and another
the river a child watched

W. S. Merwin
The Shadow of Sirius

Thank you, Reya!

Back to knitting

Well. This sure has been interesting! Several things worth thinking about have emerged from my Blog of Note experience.

1. There really are levels and adjoining circles on the internet, and I suspect that most of us travel in pretty small circles, relatively speaking. I've been so used to a readership of mostly knitters that my new, wider circle is still a surprise.
   
2. Well-wishes and encouragement from total strangers, sometimes even delivered in a language I don't speak, are very nice. Very nice indeed.
   
3. I've never discouraged Anonymous comments, until now. I had to turn them off after I was bombarded with spam. Some people have too much time on their hands.
   
4. My advice to anyone who is named a Blog of Note? Take cover till it's mostly over, then read all the comments and enjoy the rest of the ride.

Now to the knitting. Here is my Whimsy Lace Scarf --



I haven't spent much time with it lately, but I plan to remedy that. It takes about 15 minutes to do a repeat, and I've memorized the procedure, so it's not that hard to make progress. The top portion, in garter stitch, forms the neck or collar. The ruffles cascade around the shoulders.


This is the leg of a sock. It's the tried-and-true no-brain-required Blueberry Waffle pattern, in Sundara's Deadly Nightshade (I think this is a Seasons Collection color). Pardon the cat hair. I'm almost halfway finished with the second sock, and I hope I can make some progress on it, too. One of the more annoying side effects of chemotherapy is neuropathy in my fingers. Lucky for me, mine isn't too bad (and it should go away), but it does slow me down!

My real problem with what I'm knitting is that I want to start a new pair of socks. I'm itching to cast on. I have delightful yarn that's waiting for me, but these two are just as delightful, and they're already on their way to being done. Can I resist, at least until I finish the socks? Probably not.

Our weather has finally improved a little -- the weekend has been sunny and not too cold, so my grey mood is gone. It was too windy to visit the bay yesterday. It would have been nice to get a closer look at all the ice chunks that have pushed up against the shoreline. They take such interesting shapes. I hope that February lets me get out into the world a little more!

I'll be back tomorrow with my poem for this year's (Silent) Poetry Reading. This is one of my all-time favorite blog events.

By the way, today is Pajama Day. I'm in!

Just who am I, anyway?

What a surprise, finding myself a Blogger Blog of Note today! I'm honored, but slightly uncomfortable. Yes, this is a public space, and yes, many anonymous readers stop by ... but somehow, anyway, right now, I feel a little exposed.

You see, I think of myself as a knitblogger. I'm part of a large and wonderful community of people who share my passion, and I'm blessed to have made many friends, both real and virtual, in this relatively small corner of the big old internet. But here, today, the doors have been flung wide open!

My blog and my life seem to be defined by what is going on right now -- cancer treatment and navigating the strange terrain of it, and getting on with it -- but when I seek to define myself cancer isn't at the top of the list.

So: I'm a knitter. I'm a spinner. I've made many pairs of socks, and whatever else that has inspired me. I love yarn. I design knitting patterns once in a while. I'm a bookseller, too. I live with that cat, in a little apartment near the Atlantic Ocean. I go to the water as often as I can, to refill and be and look out at the horizon. I'm a middle child. Sure, I have cancer. I also have a good life that's on the way to getting better.

There. I feel better now. Welcome everyone!

Little question

You'd think I could have nipped this little habit in the bud, but of course I failed. She knows who's in charge.

There is little question that I have been away from this space for too long. I want to do something about that. I miss it. Now that my world is about to open up again -- yes, I am finished with chemotherapy! -- I hope to find myself knitting more, and living life, and writing about it again.

I'm still processing what it means to have successfully navigated these past five and a half months. It will be a while before I do, and for now the good old slow and steady approach still serves. I feel cautious about everything -- but happy, definitely happy. I did it!

If only winter were not so relentless! I want sunshine! I want bright blue skies! Instead, it's been snowing this morning, and rain is on the way. There's been ice and snow on the ground forever, and the gray of the sky and the ground and everything in between doesn't help. I'm tired enough that I slog through each day anyway, and having to add a trudge over leftover snow in colorless light and landscape is just too much, don't you think?

I'm knitting away on little things, but nothing is worth showing yet. I started a Whimsy Lace Scarf just like Rosi's (because hers is an inspiration) with Hand Maiden Mini Maiden (just like Rosi) in "Paris." It's a wonderful pattern with lots of short rows, so it's fun to knit. I love the yarn, too. There are socks, of course. And I feel some mitts coming on.

There'll be time for all of it, but ...

... just now, I think Annabelle has the right idea!