The Duck Pond

I’ve passed this farmland throughout my life…

Ducks…Geese…a lovely view…

This small building on the shore of the pond…so picturesque on a late autumn day…

Sock knitting gone bad

The first time I ever tried knitting socks, I finished the first one and never got fired up about knitting the matching sock. I always make a mistake in my knitting that I turn into a positive, and I think I will remember what I did to personalize the pattern. I usually write it down…on a post-it, or on the pattern, but never written in a way that I will understand when I need the directions again.

I now knit socks as a pair, at the same time, on two sets of double pointed needles. I still make mistakes, but I keep on going back and forth between the two stockings. I have a bad habit of leaving my knitting project on the back of the couch where I spend my knitting time.

Yes, the double pointed knitting needle in my sweet poodles’ hair came out of an active row of knitting on one of the socks. I now face my worst knitting fear…I quiver with apprehension whenever looking to replace a knitting needle in a dropped stitch, much less a whole row of dropped stitches.

In the past I have been known to rip out an entire project to start over rather than try to decipher how to undo the damage. I don’t have that kind of time or patience anymore, and I now am only held back by trying to find a suitably small crochet hook to replace the stitches onto the knitting needle. I still have a hard time keeping the knits and purls going in the correct direction…

Bayberry Candles

I recently found Bayberries on Mom and Dad’s property, and I immediately went into “Little House on the Prairie” mode and began thinking about how to make my own real Bayberry candles.

I have ordered real Bayberry candles from Abundant Earth in the past, but they no longer carry them. I do know that if a company claims to make real Bayberry candles all year long, they are not made with berries off the bush in season.

A bit of research yielded enough information to convince me not to get too excited about the few berries at Mom’s. The berries are beautiful…I should have taken a photograph, but I was lazy. The old blue with a blush on the surface immediately called out to me.

The berries have a wax-like substance that is melted off to make candles.

“…one and a half quarts of Bayberries to make an 8 inch taper candle”

I have enough to do this season, but I will put the idea on the back burner to consider in the future.

Pain day down

 It’s one of those days when the pain meds don’t help and my mind is unable to escape it.

I’m watching Top Chef Masters and knitting these socks in bed today.

Mini stroke

Dad had a mini stroke last week. Mom told me about it today. I am supposed to be their caregiver. The one who asks the doctors the questions and keeps track of the meds and their needs, and I am the last to know of my parents’ distress. I feel helpless at times to be of any service to my parents. They want their independence but they can’t get by alone. They need care but neither wants their end of days to be in a hospital. I understand their fears. I support their desire to remain in their home of 50 years. I can’t imagine the terror they underwent when Dad couldn’t move, couldn’t lift his arms, his head thrown back in spasm. Mom held him from falling from his chair to the floor. She wanted to call an ambulance. Dad said no, just to give him a minute. It was five minutes before this episode passed and Dad was back to normal.  The first thing he said was, “Don’t tell Lisa.”

My parents were celebrating their anniversary when I was conceived…a baker’s dozen years after my sister, their youngest of three children. My parents were 40 years old when I was born. My sister says I was an accident. Mom says I was a pleasant surprise. I’m sure the unplanned pregnancy of a 40 year old woman back in the early 1960’s was a lot more complicated than I will ever know.

By the time I was 10 years old, my father read the obituary page of the local newspaper out loud to my mother while she cooked dinner and he and I sat at the kitchen table. He concentrated on the listings of men in their 50’s. By the time I was 12 years old, I lived with the daily fear of my parents dying while I was still young…of being an orphan. All my friends had young parents. Most people thought my mom was my grandmother. Her premature grey hair didn’t help either of us. Continue Reading…

Alpaca at the door.

Winter is around the corner, and now is the time to plan for the cold weather by knitting a luxurious Alpaca sweater or shawl.

Spinning on a summer day

I taught myself to spin with a home made drop spindle. It takes patience and plenty of interest in the subject to keep going and improve your drawing and spinning capabilities.

When starting on my antique spinning wheel I was unable to treadle and draw the Alpaca top fast enough. This is akin to patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time.

I’ve come a long way in spinning singles and plying, but there is always something new to learn.