Look what sprouted in the garden this morning....
after all the rain we had yesterday...
It was coming down in buckets, but that didn't keep anyone from having any fun!
O.K. I will, I will, I will, work on putting the corset pullover together today. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.....
Does this count for earth mother's Dye Job Along? It's not yarn, it's green daisies and red beargrass, and it's not really dye, it's food coloring.
I loved the pattern I'm using for my Sockapal-2-za sock so much that I just had to try it in a different yarn. I tried IK Winter 2004's Retro Rib socks with this yarn, but ripped it because the pattern didn't show up very well. This is turning out much better, and it's a lot easier to photograph than the dark red Mountain Colors sock. This is Trekking #283.
After taking the pictures at the top, I brought the flowers inside
and placed them on the windowsill behind our couch. Later in the evening, the boys were doing headstands on the couch, and I was just reaching to move the vases out of the way when R bumped one with his feet and over they went. Green and red dyed water went all over the couch and the floor. Luckily, the couch is green leather and wiped clean. A while later, I picked up this sock to work on it and realized that it was wet and covered in splotches of green. The spots were pretty obvious, but when it dryed they all but disappeared! No yarn dyed here today, intentional or not.
Added minutes later: Oops, I guess you CAN see the green splotches on the foot. I wonder if it will come out when I wash them.
We drove two and a half hours on bumpy dirt roads on Friday night to get to the campground (Too bumpy and curvy to knit much, but the wildflowers were beautiful and we saw a baby fox). As soon as the truck was unloaded and the tent set up, C set off with a few other guys to camp with them at another campground because they were getting up at 4 a.m to hike into another lake to go fishing.
Just me and the boys: (Here's the wimpy woodswoman part.) First, I couldn't get the propane cookstove to work. Second, I started a fire, but it kept going out. So we had salami and cheese sandwiches and barely toasted s'mores. As soon as the boys were asleep, I got the fire going and sat and knit for awhile with a headlamp.
Next morning: Not enough sleep. No propane. None of the promised pancakes. No coffee. (Here's the cushy part.) We loaded up in the truck and drove back down the bumpy road 8 miles to Polebridge for propane for the stove, cinnamon rolls and fresh brewed coffee on the front porch of the mercantile. It started to drizzle so we went for a drive on the even rougher Inside North Fork road in the park. I saw a bear run across the road in front of the truck and then we went through a five mile stretch where you weren't supposed to get out of your car so as not to interfere with wolves denning in the area. We stopped, had a picnic in the back of the truck, and turned around to meet up with C and head back to the campsite. Neither the boys nor I caught anything, but C caught his biggest fish yet, a 24" cutthroat trout, and many more besides, enough for 3 nights' dinners!
Later: C checked the propane tank. He hooked it up and it worked just fine.
The irony: we cook on a propane stove everyday at home that has to be lit every time we use it, and I light a fire to heat the house almost 300 days of the year.
The fisher-fellows:
Left: picture that does not do justice to sock, lake, or mountains. Right: Picture perfect.
This is the first Sockapalooza sock, complete. I'll wait to get a better shot until the other one is finished. I didn't want to bind off yet until I weigh what's left of the other ball to make sure there is enough for the other sock (Oops. I should have split the skein before I started the first one.), and it's time to learn the more stretchy, tubular bind off. Up until now, I've just gone up one or two needle sizes for the last row and the cast-off row.
That's Bowman Lake, Saturday evening, after C and the boys were sound asleep back at the campsite. I sat cross-legged in the grass at the edge of the lake all alone (aside from the just-finished sock) for so long, that my entire right leg fell asleep. I finally realized that, if a bear were to saunter up out of the darkness right about then, I wouldn't even be able to run and there would be nobody around to help. That's when I stood up, almost fell over a few times, and gimped my way back up to the tent. More camping adventures tomorrow.
So, where did you and your sock go today/yesterday/last weekend?
Something to look at while we're away. El Pato = YumYum.
NO. Just kidding. It's not a tube top. It's a (eek, crocheted!) hat for my brother's birthday in August. This hat has a bit of a story behind it, but I'll save that for when it's finished. Now, I have to figure out the shaping at the top. I'll be winging it so it might take a couple tries before it will look like what I have in mind...or...maybe I'll be lucky and get it the first time. That's one good thing about frogging crochet, you don't have to save all those live stitches like in knitting.
We're off for a couple nights camping in Glacier National Park. It seems to take a least 2 days to get ready to go camping and another 2 days afterwards to unpack and clean everything for the next time. Let's see now, if we went every weekend, that would leave us Wednesday free before starting all over again. So, there just isn't much knitting going on, but there will be driving time to and from, plus some at the campground, too, and around the fire in the evening, so hopefully there will be some progress. Let's hope the weather holds.
Oh. I've turned the heel on the first Sockapal-2-za sock and am about 3 inches up the ankle. It's going a little slower now that it's all pattern, all the way around. Both of my sock pals have requested calf-length socks. What, exactly, does this mean? Below where the calf starts? Mid-calf? Below the knee? How many inches?
"Way out Thar in the West, They Grow Them Poppies as big as Trees!"
Anybody tired of all these poppies yet? I can't seem to get enough of them. In the mornings, we sit by the window and wait to see if we can see them drop their outer "shell." They'll be gone soon enough.
Some friends of ours don't celebrate Easter, but they do have a similar Spring Party soon after spotting the very first wild violet blooming.
Why not throw a party when a flower is blooming? Why not a Poppy Party? We could have popcorn and PopTarts....ooh...and those confetti poppers...and... any other ideas? Maybe this is going too far? Maybe. Maybe not.
This time around, the Sockapal2za is challenging me to try some new things. First, I'm teaching myself the magic-loop. I'm not so sure that it's any faster...yet. The verdict is still out. My fingers haven't really gotten used to fiddling with the long circular. Second, I'm designing something with a textured pattern. I've only done one fairisle pattern before and the rest have all been just plain ribbing. The pattern is called "Open Twisted Rib". The color on the left is too dark, and the one on the right is too light, but show the pattern. That's my hand in there making it look a bit deformed. It's coming along!
Not long after the light finally left the sky, I remembered that it was a full moon tonight. While waiting for the clouds to clear a little bit, I couldn't help but snap a shot of the daisies in the dark, too. I have no clue how to take pictures in the dark. Like I said, I'm just playing around with the camera. Before children, I used to spend a lot of time outside on full moon nights.
The longest day of the year only seemed longer because we had a pretty rough morning around here. One of those days where you just want to run away or crawl back into bed. The boys weren't getting along with eachother, and I was having a tough time getting along with them. I know the pictures I post can be pretty idyllic, but don't get me wrong, we're real people around here who have some days that are better than other days, some days that are great, and others that are not so good at all.
And in the midst of all this, the lawnmower, which I just picked up from the repair shop yesterday, broke down on me again. You know those times when you can't get something to work, and somebody else tries it and it starts right up for them? Yes, it was one of those times. Then we were out of gas. Oh, and the grass was about a foot tall because it's been raining for 3 weeks, so it took forever, on the second 80+ degree day of the year. In the back "yard" I decided to mow a crazy, curvy path through the tall grass to play in for a day or so before I'll mow it all down, and felt much better after that.
When C finished work, we went for a swim at a nearby lake. There's nothing like a beautiful, sunny evening at the beach to brighten your attitude, too.
Back home, we had dinner, played in the grass path, and went to bed. E asked me to sing "Don't take my sunshine away." I don't know the real name of the song, or even if I know the correct lyrics, but my Mom used to sing it to me too:
You are my sunshine. You are my sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."
Appropriate for the Solstice, I thought.
Two hours later, E was still awake, tossing and turning and calling for me to come and lay down with him. "I NEED YOU, MAMA!" Since it was still so light out and such a beautiful night, I asked him to go for a little walk with me to pick some daisies. It was a nice time together. When we returned, I went and laid down with him in his bed. 25 minutes later, when he was still awake listening to the birds sing, I came downstairs and let him cry himself to sleep.
Here's to shorter days to come, hopefully better days, and earlier bedtimes.
Oh, by the way the pictures are of the wild roses growing where I can see them from a distance from the kitchen window. The yarn is my Sockapal2za yarn, Mountain Colors Bearfoot, in the color Rosehip. When I send the socks out in September, these bushes will have rosehips on them, instead of blossoms. Nice coincidence.
Happy Solstice.
