wind in the blossoms

We awakened on Friday morning to three inches of snow. We are at 7500 feet in the mountains, so it's not unusual at this time of year, but it felt awfully depressing - too much for too long. By Saturday morning most of it had melted and I set out to meet my two friends at a cafe in town where we drank tea, coffee, knitted, gossiped, planned a get-away-retreat in Colorado for a couple of days in late May. I showed off my simple lace shawl - only 19 inches completed so far (the pattern calls for two 36" pieces!). Lots of knitting ahead on this project. The yarn is Isager alpaca/wool 2-ply in a rich olive green.



Also showed off the Opal "Antonia" sock in lovely shades of brown, peach, lime. I love Opal sock yarns and feel fortunate that the yarn shop Tutto (on Galisteo Street in Santa Fe) carries their full line. Santa Fe is not around the corner (84 miles away) but after almost two decades in the southwest, long drives no longer concern me as they did in my old New York/Connecticut life when a 90 minute drive required planning.

Today I finished reading Julia Glass's Three Junes. What an absorbing novel it is. It won the National Book Award a couple of years ago and I somehow never got around to reading it until I found it in the library's used book shop for 50 cents last week. There were long, beautifully written chapters centered around the slow death of a dear friend and it especially resonated within me since I have recently lost a close friend. I accompanied her to chemo treatments, long lunches, waiting rooms, sat by her bedside for parts of most days and knitted socks through it all. Elizabeth Zimmerman's quote knit on with hope and confidence through all crises manifested its truth during that time. I don't think I would have been as patient, silent, or spent as many hours with her if I didn't have that feeling of yarn passing through my fingers - creating something out of time and space - with slim wooden needles, cheerful colors. My friend said more than once in her last weeks that it was comforting - to have me just sitting nearby, not asking anything of her, available if she needed me - or not - knitting, always knitting. Two months before her death, she asked me to teach her how. Her grandmother was a great knitter, she said, but added "no one ever taught me". I did teach her (with a lot of help from Melanie Falick's "Kid's Knitting"). The sample piece she painstakingly worked in pale teal yarn represented hope. Unfortunately she was not able to complete a project. But, if the Tibetan Buddhists are correct, that what we've learned in this life we take into the next one, she might, in another existence, be a knitting fanatic like me! In all, I finished 8 pairs of socks!

The wind is picking up now at dusk. The dog (Spike) is barking to come in (he hates wind) and I'm going to knit a few pattern repeats on the lace shawl while watching Now, Voyager.

Lorraine