A local farm stand had a sunflower event last weekend. I missed out on the event but I did manage to purchase some sunflowers from them when I stopped for local tomatoes.
Sunflowers are hard to photograph, friends! I tried to capture these in the yellow pottery pitcher I have them in but those big blooms are floppy and ultimately I decided to shoot them from this angle instead. Sunflowers on buffalo check = classic.
Have a great weekend!
This is one of those weeks were time has just flown right by. I’ve been very busy at work, similar to the early days of the pandemic, fielding lots of phone calls and trying to create plans that are safe and sustainable. It got me thinking, though, about how much has changed since March. And I don’t mean the big obvious stuff like not traveling or going out to eat. I mean the simple daily stuff that is just . . . different. Since it’s Thursday I came up with 3 things that I have pared down since the pandemic.
Have you changed your habits and routines in unexpected ways since March? I’d love to hear about it. And don’t forget to link your post below if you wrote one for today.
First, with regards to Dale’s progress, the doctor’s visit yesterday went well. The x-rays showed the bones are knitting together and that’s good news. Dale still combats swelling in the leg and foot and the doctor encouraged continued elevating of the leg (that’s something Dale really doesn’t like, he’s not a guy who is content to lay around) and he also told Dale to start weaning himself off the brace and crutches. Lots more physical therapy ordered. Bottom line: progress in the right direction!
Now on to this Wednesday’s knitting and reading. I believe there is unraveling in my future.
That’s the current state of my Orbit (beware, that’s a Rav link if you have issues with their site changes) scarf. I still have one more repeat of the garter section and the eyelet border to go and that ball of yarn is very very small. I’ve been fairly certain I wouldn’t have enough yarn since I was at the half way point but did I stop? Nope. This knitter’s heart is forever optimistic. I’m considering doing the eyelet in a contrasting shade of yarn (it’s Tosh DK) and I think that would work. Mostly, though, I’m disappointed that one skein isn’t enough because I really love this pattern and could picture myself knitting this one over and over. It’s fast, it would make a great gift, it’s simple but entertaining enough to hold my interest . . . but running out of yarn just isn’t acceptable.
On the reading front, I got my Bingo cover all last week and I’ll share more on that soon. I’m currently reading The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michele Richardson. It’s . . . okay. I almost quit it yesterday but then I found myself thinking about it and decided I wanted to see Cussy’s story through to the end.
What are you knitting and reading this week? Don’t forget to head over to Kat’s and share with everyone, too.
Hello friends! Dale and I are off to Boston this morning for an appointment with his orthopedic surgeon. Yesterday marked 13 weeks since his accident and today will be the first time they take x-rays of his leg. Send good juju, won’t you?
In the meantime, I want to remind you that we will be discussing Wild Game on our blogs one week from today. If you haven’t finished, it’s crunch time. And if you have finished, it’s a good time to review what you read and gather your thoughts for our discussion. One of the things I’m going to do is re-listen to Happier podcast episode when Gretchen and Liz discussed the book with author Adrienne Brodeur.
Have a great Tuesday!
Are for poetry. That’s right. Even though I’m not someone who reads poetry frequently, when a book comes recommended by Kym and Margene and Bonny I sit up and take notice and read it.
Many of the poems in Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection are wonderful but this one in particular really stayed with me and I want to share it with you all today.
Listen, Barbara Crooker
I want to tell you something. This morning
Is bright after all the steady rain, and every iris,
peony, rose, opens its mouth, rejoicing. I want to say,
wake up, open your eyes, there’s a snow-covered road
ahead, a field of blankness, a sheet of paper, an empty screen.
Even the smallest insects are singing, vibrating their entire bodies,
tiny violins of longing and desire. We were made for song.
I can’t tell you what prayer is, but I can take the breath
of the meadow into my mouth, and I can release it for the leaves
green need. I want to tell you your life is a blue coal, a slice
of orange in the mouth, cut hay in the nostrils. The cardinals’
red song dances in your blood. Look, every month the moon
blossoms into a peony, then shrinks to a sliver of garlic.
And then it blooms again.
I hope this makes your Monday a little bit better than it would have been without it.
