Give or take

Baktus with eyelet edge in Sundara Sock "Cactus Flower"

I've been knitting. Finish one thing, start something new. Small things — a scarf, a hat, a pair of mitts. I'm working on what I've come to call The Family Project. That's all I can tell you!

Honey Cowl in Spirit Trail Fiberworks Paivatar, unnamed colorway

Foxgloves in Filatura di Crosa Zara

 There's more.

Simple Ribbed Hat in Bijou Spun Himalayan Trail

Maine Morning Mitts in Sundara DK Merino the 2nd, "Lichen Over Slate"

Saroyan in Sundara Fingering Merino Cashmere "Ocean's Edge"

Foxgloves in Briar Rose Cashmere, unnamed colorway

This represents much of my knitting from April through September, give or take a sock or two, and at least one scarf and hat. And there are other things on the needles or in my head, too! I'm not insane, just inspired.

Hitchhiker Scarf in Sundara DK Silky Cashmere, "Spring Fresh"

 I started this Hitchhiker scarf yesterday. Must keep moving.

With all this knitting going on, the set of Darn Pretty Interchangeable needles I got at the beginning of the year has turned out to be the best investment I've made in my knitting since, oh, my umbrella swift and ball winder back in 1978. They are absolutely worth the wait, and they really do have the best join I've worked with.

Rosemary Likes Knitting, Too

Oh, and I do still have my day job!

Fifty-six Hours

That's how long I was without power at home during and after Hurricane Irene. Not too bad, considering that there are many people here on Long Island, and right here on the East End, who don't even know when theirs might be restored.

But fifty-six hours was more than enough. At least I could go to work, where we had power the whole time. At home, I was just uncomfortable and stressed and done. This house gets its water from a well, and when there's no power, there's no water. After I used what I'd stored, I had to haul it from work in a big container. Knowing that my refrigerator full of food was spoiling made it even more difficult. The peaceful haven I count on my little home to be was no longer peaceful, or a haven.

I had a small epiphany this week. Yes, I'm fortunate to live a life where I can count on electricity, running water, and other comforts. But at the same time, I need to acknowledge that I work very hard to provide those things for myself. It's up to me. So when I can't take a shower or flush the toilet, when most of my fresh food becomes inedible, and when I can't see to do much of anything, it's distressing. And I can stop apologizing for that, without diminishing the suffering and hardship that people all over the East Coast — and all over the world — are experiencing right now.

While there was a little bit of daylight on Sunday — in between the moments when I thought I might see Miss Gulch pass my window on her bicycle — I finished the giant swatch I started earlier in the week. It's more of a stitch sampler than a swatch. I worked out the math and the logistics for a shawl with an interesting bit of lace, and played with some lovely lace edges. When my Red Heirloom Tomato yarn arrives from Sundara, I'll begin figuring out how to make it all work on a larger scale. We shall see what becomes of all this swatching and figuring.

I began a pair of socks on Monday, when Kris told me to start something. He even told me what yarn to use (4-ply Organic Poll Dorset from Renaissance Dyeing) and what pattern to knit (Anne Hanson's Caterpillar Socks). I needed someone to tell me what to do by that point, so I'm glad he stepped in and gave me a shake.

Now onward, to Labor Day weekend and the reverse migration of the Summer People — those who haven't given up and gone home already, that is!

What might become

Just testing. Trying a few things with some leftover Sunna. Seeing if I can put some stitches together into a little shawl. So far, so good.

This is what I have spent the day on, and I've had a wonderful day exploring stitches, making little charts, and casting on (and ripping out). It's a beautiful day here on the end of Long Island, but it's also August, and there are August People everywhere. I'd rather stay home and enjoy the breeze on my porch.

We'll see what becomes of this swatch, but I think it's on its way to becoming what has been percolating for a couple of weeks. There was a day when I was on my way to Sag Harbor, and before I could do anything else I had to stop into the bookstore, grab a piece of paper and a pen, and draw what I had dreamed up in the car.

That's normal, isn't it?

Untended

This picture says it all. Two months ago, the wisteria was just beginning to climb up my porch railing. Now, it claims my chair.

It's been the same sort of summer as usual: busy. I work long hours, shuffle back and forth between the bookstore and home, and marvel at how time is flying (or complain about how time seems to have stopped). Our website is a full-time job, and exciting. My head is filled with html and SEO, URL path settings and publishing options. My time is spent on updates and order processing, inventory upload files and shipping quotes. Above all, I keep in touch with books. Books and bookselling are still what I do.

There's been knitting. Free-range knitting. Dabbling. I finished my Saroyan weeks ago (Sundara Fingering Merino Cashmere). I'm working on a couple of pairs of socks, a little shawl experiment, and a few other things. It keeps me sane.

I've also been reading. This should not be remarkable, but it is. My reading mojo has been non-existent for a very, very long time. Tolstoy and the Purple Chair is a beautiful memoir by Nina Sankovitch. It's about her year of reading — a book a day, for 365 days — after the death of her sister. In an article in the New York Times, she said she was seeking answers about "how to live with sorrow and how to find my place in the world." I think I knew that books can provide those answers, but I didn't go to them. Nina Sankovitch's wonderful book has begun to lead me back. I'm reading one of the books on her list now: How to Paint a Dead Man by Sarah Hall.

Maybe reading is keeping me sane, too.

 ❧ Rosemary... Rosemary is a furry firecracker. She is fond of stuffed mousies, especially when they need to be attacked at the foot of the bed in the middle of the night. She doesn't keep me sane, but she makes life interesting.