Now Norma Knits

M is, of course, for Maple

My Vermonter card would probably be rescinded if I didn't choose "maple" for M.  I was going to say "native Vermonter card," but, of course, that is debatable. The rule is, I believe, that one's ancestors must have lived here for three generations before one is considered a native Vermonter. Although I meet that prong of the test, at least on one side of my family, the true natives might dispute that claim.

Get yer interesting Vermont maple syrup facts here.

In the past several years, due to climate changes and acid-rain damage to our maple trees, there has been a dramatic decrease in the quantity and quality of syrup produced. I could start ranting now, but I'm too busy to go there. So *insert imagined rant here.*

Yes, it's come to this:  I have become too busy to rant and now rely on my readers to fill in the blanks.  Thankful?  Relieved? or Disappointed?

And On This I Am An Expert....

In my deposition yesterday:

DEPONENT:  "I was like, 'What the fuck?'  Pardon my French."

QUESTIONING ATTORNEY:  "But it's not French."**

(laughter all around)

DEPONENT:  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

OTHER ATTORNEY:  "No, it's all right."

DEPONENT: "No, I apologize, but I..." 

OTHER ATTORNEY:  "You should just tell us what happened.  Don't worry. We've heard the word."

ME:  "Might have even used it a time or two."

**Turns out he's right about that.

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And just so it's not all just about the foul language around here, I took some early-evening garden shots. Why is it my nighttime shots come out better than my daytime ones? Ah, yes, that is the question.  (You know you click on the pictures to make them bigger, right?) Calendula officinalis, 'Red Splash.'  I have never grown this before, and I am so very happy to make its acquaintance. My seed packet calls it a "hardy reseeding annual," and I hope it does reseed itself vigorously.

An Asiatic lily whose name I may never have known.  This was another one of those things I plunked into the ground last fall just before the snow fell.

And the Summer of the Allium continues with:

Allium 'Hair'

Should It Really Be This Hard?

Has anyone done the Aran Island Mittens from Folk Mittens?  This is my second attempt, and it just seems like such a struggle. 

The pattern calls for worsted-weight Bainin yarn, and that's exactly what I've got.  (Organic Bainin wool from The Irish Ewe, and beautiful yarn it is, too. It is a sturdy yarn, yet quite soft, and a gorgeous creamy white with a sheen. Just stunning authentic Irish yarn that makes me very happy. Thank you, Dagny!)

The pattern dictates 12 stitches to 2 inches in reverse stockinette stitch as the gauge on US 3 needles.  I find it painful to knit at that gauge, and the resulting fabric is very stiff, dense, and inelastic.

Maybe it's supposed to be this way, for weatherproof, wear-like-iron mittens?  Maybe it softens with washing and use?  But it seems like it will kill my hands to knit it like this. 

Does anyone have any experience with this?  Or if not, do you have a great Aran mitten pattern to recommend?  I really do love the way the pattern looks at first blush -- I even like the bobbles.  I am drawn to the Tree of Life pattern in the palm. The photographed mitten does not look as stiff as mine, although how could one really tell from a photograph? 

I've searched the internet quite a bit, and all I come up with is a plain cabled mitten (with just one cable down the hand, and I own that pattern -- it's from Green Mt. Mohair), and a felted aran mitten.  I'm not interested in the felted one. It's very hard for me to believe that there aren't some good ones out there, but I just haven't been able to find them. 

I've given some thought to trying the Cormo sock yarn I bought at Maryland Sheep & Wool, to see how that works out.  I do want warm and sturdy mittens, though, and I want to do this lovely Bainin yarn justice. I'm in a quandary and at a standstill over this.  I wanted these to be my Bitchin' Mittens. They will not be original creative pieces of art (as is the aim of the Bitchin' Mittens knitalong) on my part, but to me, they are bitchin', and my goal is to make a pair of mittens that are a stretch for me to knit, yet not TOO much of a stretch, and that I will actually want to wear. I don't harbor any illusions that they will be done by the September 1st deadline, either.

If all else fails, my backup plan is no less ambitious:
But I hope it doesn't come to that, because honestly, this just scares the bejesus out of me. (It is creamy white and tan -- it just looks very yellow with the flash.)

Colorful Little Scarves

Have you SEEN the numbers of Dulaan items received to date??? Knitters not only kick serious fund-raising butt, as we have been reminded recently by our two dear friends Claudia and Cara, they also kick some serious charity-knitting butt. Can we get things done, or what? Are we amazing, or what?!  Go, knitters!

I prewrote the following post over the weekend, knowing this was going to be a very busy week, but when I read Ryan's post yesterday about the Dulaan numbers, I just had to shout out about it. How convenient that it is such a nice segue into this little post.

Here's my first Dulaan item for 2007; a child's scarf. I just love these lengthwise-striped scarves. I've noticed that many people choose to do hats for Dulaan (go you hat knitters!). I've decided to concentrate this year on scarves, neckwarmers, and mittens. Because although it is imperative to have a covered head in those cold Mongolian temperatures, things besides heads also get cold.

Yarn:  Wool/Mohair scraps in bright colors

US 11/8mm needles, 102 stitches cast on.  Finished dimensions: 4" wide by 46" long, excluding fringe.  With fringe, 56".

Movie while knitting:  North Country (Two thumbs up from me and David, although if you're looking for authenticity in the courtroom -- well, just don't.  Rules of evidence?  What's that?!)

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I liked that one so much, I whipped up another - this time in spicy-gingery colors. This was a great way to make the most of the final 2/3rds of a ball of Rowan Biggy Print that I had left.
All the same specs, just different yarns and a different DVD:

Eddie Izzard, Definite Article. We love everything Eddie, but I like Dress to Kill better than this one.

We Give Up! or We Tried, But We Still Did Not Find That Special Something

The sock and I took another trek onto the hill looking for That Special Something that people keep telling us about. By this point, since I feel like I've covered the whole hill at least twice over, I have started to think that the first person who told me about The Special Something was maybe having me on a bit. But you remember the last time I went up there, with Abigail and Vincent, and I mentioned that we ran into someone Abigail knew? Well, later that evening, that person IM'ed Ab and said, "So, did you see (blankety-blank)*?"  And she said, "What do you mean?"  He then proceeded to talk about That Special Something.  She said, "No! We were looking for it but didn't find it." 

He said what everyone else has said: "It's off the beaten path." 

Well, freaking hell.  I went about as far off the beaten path as I thought I could, but this little bump is really a bit bigger than I think it is, I guess. However, apparently everyone but us can find it. What's up with that, huh? Given the descriptions by people, I don't think it's something I could just miss or fail to see if I were walking past it.

Saturday afternoon, I ended up spending three hours trying to find more "off the beaten paths," and I guess I haven't covered everything yet. I'm not really giving up. I'm telling you, though, this had better be worth it, because after a morning of heavy lifting in the garden and heavy trekking on a hillside, on and off trail, I came back thoroughly worn out.

Meanwhile, I saw lots of old stone walls, hidden in the forest. Quintessential New England.
It boggles my mind to think that this area was once all cleared (hence, the old stone fences). Vermont, before it became dairy country, was sheep country. Sheep farming requires clearing of the land. Vermont is now about 80% forested. At the turn of the last century, it was 80% cleared. I simply can't imagine it.

~~~~I remember when I was walking around the fells of the Lake District in England, I said to my friends, "Isn't it amazing to think that this was once all forest?"  They looked at me as if I were green (ha), shrugged their shoulders and said, "I never thought of it."  I'm not sure it ever was, but in my imagination it must have been. You know, enchanted forests and all that.~~~~

After a while, the sock and I gave up for the day. The sock needed a little rest first.

As you can see, the first one is finished. There really is not any wonkiness in the ankle and heel -- it's just the way it's lying on the rock. 

I cast on the second one Sunday. I love the short-row heel (my first!). And Trekking yarn?  I love it so much, I want to make a sweater out of it. At least a baby sweater.  It would make a SWEET baby sweater.

*I don't want to ruin the surprise, in case I ever do find it.

Oh, P.S.  The sock is a 3X1 ribbed sock, the Trekking Color is 100.

SSS*

*Sandy's Saturday Sky

So Miss Sandy has a bee in her bonnet.  She says Saturdays are too dull around blogland and she wants to see more Saturday sky pics.  Okay. Whatever Sandy wants! 

Mine's blue, San.  Neener-neener.

What's that horrible smell?!  Oh, wait.  It's me. 

I spent the morning tending to the veg garden. And I emptied and/or relayered three composters. That is hard work, I don't mind tellin' you.  And one of the bins was apparently anaerobic, because P.U.! It stunk. And now, so do I.  But given that fact, it was a very good idea to tend to them today, stir them up, let in some air.  And the temperature is a lovely 73F and tolerable humidity. I couldn't ask for a better day. So 90% of the removed several bushels of compost was used as mulch and food for the veggies. The other bit was used as a good starter for the bin that is already getting filled with garden clippings and vegetable cuttings and eggshells and coffee grounds from the kitchen. 

And now, since I'm all smelly anyway, I'm going to go for a bike ride. A little exercise never hurt anyone.  Even someone who's been doing heavy shoveling all morning. Right? 

How many other bloggers would show you the inside of their empty compost bin? 

Don't you feel special?  *scratch and sniff* (P.U.)

And look, the pumpkins germinated: 

One more sky photo for Sandy:  For people on Pin Oak watch, that's it. 

L is for Leaves

A small sampling of leaves from my garden.

Leaves provide food, habitat, climate control, protection, soil conditioner, insulation, medicine, and diverse beauty. What am I forgetting.......?  I'm sure I'm forgetting something. 

A favorite memory regarding leaves is this:  I went to a meeting of state leaders of court reporting associations in Washington, D.C. one October in the early '90s. Each state sent two representatives, and I was the vice-president of our association then. I met and made instant friends with a couple of young women from Montana. We went out for early-morning walks together while everyone else was smoking a second cigarette, drinking coffee, and nursing a hangover, I rather suspect. We were walking along at a fast pace and chatting away like mad when all of a sudden my friend (still a friend to this day) from Montana said, "What are we walking in?" 

I was taken aback. "What?!"

"What are these?"

"Oak leaves."  (they were up-above-our-ankles deep and we were shusshing through them)

"We don't have oak trees in Montana."  That is when I learned that there aren't very many, if any, deciduous trees in Montana. Freaked me right out. 

I repeat again today:  Isn't nature wonderful in its diversity?

Anyway, I am the Lorax and I love the leaves.

Smell The Roses

Rosa rugosa

On the first day of summer, I picked rose petals and made rose petal jam.

But sadly:

The jam didn't turn out. I don't know what happened. I threw away the first batch, thinking that I had cooked the pectin too long. Then I made another batch, being extremely careful to time the cooking just right, and it still came out the same way -- too thick and very gloppy. Not a nice consistency on the tongue or to spread on toast. It tastes great, but it's not right. It's very cloudy-looking; it's supposed to be deep-colored and jewel-like - light should pass through it. I could swear I followed the same recipe I followed last year, when it turned out perfect, and could swear I did everything the same. I'm so sad. All those precious and rare rose petals wasted.

P.S.  The recipe I used is here. 

Late Season

Vicki posted a photo of her baby tomato yesterday, which made me rush out to see if I had any.  Nope.  Some blossoms, but no little 'maters. 

But I did find these  , which made me do a little happy dance. They appeared literally overnight, and there are a few. Yes, at least enough for a meal, if they mature, plus more blossoms!  But several of the vines got damaged in the thunderstorm we had the day before yesterday, so it remains to be seen if the pods will mature. Dang, it's just always something.

There is a good reason for blogging in cycles and for being a tad repetitive. I was searching through my archives for something and came across this photo, posted June 16th last year. (Photo taken June 15th in the evening.)

Here is the same plant, photo taken yesterday, June 20th.  So it's not just my imagination that the garden is lagging way behind this year. Mind you, I did divide the plant this spring, so it's not a totally scientific observation.  I don't know what effect the act of dividing had on its speed of growth and blooming.  It's strange, actually. There are things in bloom that shouldn't be open until July, and some things that should have flowered a while ago that haven't. Freakish things are happening in the universe. (This is not an original concept.)

But isn't Mother Nature wonderful?  I love how that cucumber plant has thrown out a tendril to grab onto the trellis. The beauty and the mystery of it almost make me cry. How does it know how to do that? 

LATER:  After I wrote this post for timed publishing later, we had a horrific thunderstorm, with hail.  I do not dare to go out and see the damage; I don't think I can take it. Oh, Mother Nature, you are a cruel, if beautiful, beast.

As I write this, I'm just waiting for 24 hours to be up:  The magic number after applying one of those hormone patches for the headache to disappear. Again, Mother Nature (and pharmaceutical companies)?  Beastly beautiful. Or beautifully beastly is maybe a better way of putting it. I'm going to go to yoga class tonight if it kills me. If you don't hear from me again, you'll know I wasn't kidding.

STILL LATER:  (I am sure you love the true diary/journal style of blogging. Kill me later; it's okay.)  It is actually lovely, AND quite maddening, the 24-hour-firm-and-fast-how-does-the-drug(hormone)-work-like-that nature of that freaking hormone remedy to the headaches. I've talked about this before a little bit -- that nothing else works, that I am allergic to aspirin and ibuprofen, and that the "prevention" approach with the patches didn't work, so it's "feel the headache coming on, put on the patch, wait and suffer 24 hours TO THE FREAKING DOT, and out hatches a healthy, happy me again." What is UP with that?  But, literally to the minute, 24 hours later, the sinuses dramatically cleared and opened (and why the connection with hormones and sinuses, huh? And why do the doctors refuse to acknowledge this connection, huh?), the horrific pain in the head, neck and shoulders went away, the brain fog cleared, the "I'm going to take a nap any minute now and forget about going to yoga" feelings stopped.  As I'm writing this installment, I am already wearing my yoga wear and am just waiting for it to be time to go.  I finished one transcript, but will have to finish the second one after class.  (yeah, like that might happen)

EVEN LATER:  That was one kickass Bikram class. A guy almost had his ass kicked by me, the guy who was peering down my top every time I bent forward toward the mirror. Jerk. I was already having a misanthropic type of a day and that did not help matters. But whatever. If he wants to look at my extremely sweaty, nearly-47-year-old boobs, more power to him. Creep. I gave him a seering-hot-poker-in-the-eyes look that made him avert his eyes, and then I forgot about him. That's the first time (and let's hope it's the last) anything like that has ever happened in my yoga class. He's a regular.  I just haven't had the pleasure of standing near him before. Geesh.

Transcript time.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

That's my mantra in everyday living. Well, I try, anyway, with varying degrees of success. I apologize ahead of time for the lameness of linking to one of my old posts. And the irony of finding that I referred to that post as a copout post is almost too delicious. But here we go:

Yesterday brand-new-blogger Roxie commented on my pink peonies post of the other day that she had peonies envy, which gave me a good chuckle and reminded me of that old steno-goof post of long ago. I searched and found it here.  Steno goofs (and Eddie Izzard) are always good for a laugh, I find.

For some strange reason, I have the urge to felt something. No, really. The other day I was appreciating my market bag and was thinking it's time to felt something again, since I always have fun felting and love the resulting items. That picture of Sil really did it, not that I have any intention of posing with my prefelted item like that. Nuh-uh.

And yes, you know I don't do memes.  Unless I want to. And so I'll do this one, since it's easy and doesn't require ME to do anything.  Leave a word that describes me. (could be "lazy," even) You know the drill. You've seen it all over the place, right?  Pencils ready. Go!