changes

Morning skies are quite dramatic as night rains clear out. I don't know if we can still call this the monsoon season in September, but it has rained every night for about a week (more or less). Rumbling thunder, atomic lightening, steady wet sounds. It's lovely and cool again and, this late in the season, the dry fields are greening up. Acres of ox-eye daisies and wild sunflowers line roadways and fields. It's the yellow month. As wildflowers glow with color and we look forward to aspens and cottonwoods turning to a patchwork quilt on the mountaintops, we know yellow will give way to purple asters and thistles and swiftly disappear another summer - one that was difficult. Hot, smokey, dry. We notice the changed look of the mountains as they seem to grow darker, surrounded by clouds of moisture like smoke rings. And we know from past experience that the peaks will have snow within four weeks.

what fools we mortals be
I feel so conflicted. I love the cooler air, hate the winter (I'm not a skier although I live 8 miles from a famous ski valley) and feel that I'm not ready to hunker down when pleasant cool air turns to chilling freezing air (no matter how much nice yarn and tea is in the house). I'm still waiting for glorious spring and summer! Such are the tricks nature plays on us at 7500 feet and such is the folly of human thought. I love where I live, but it takes its toll physically (and mentally? check back in March). I have friends who hike all year, cycle, run, ski. They don't feel the same dread of winter. But I know my physical limitations and I'm not about to do more than brisk walking in the park. Which I will try to continue into the cold months. And I have those cute wool hats that I made last spring, and handwarmers, cashmere scarves, socks. Speaking of:

After work at my desk yesterday and meeting up with crafty poet friend Leslie to plan our participation in the Yuletide (!) fair at end of November, I started this sock. The Opal yarn I'd had since early in the year has been calling to me for the last few weeks. The intense, unique colors and unknown pattern it might create were enticing. But I wanted to finish a few other things first and it was too hot for vivid color. I finally couldn't resist and was actually looking for another simple-minded sock to pick up in between the busyness that is increasing daily. Plain socks save my sanity. But how plain is this! Not. It's ordinary only in the sense of the actual knitting- no charts or intricate stitches required. I love Opal's unexpected color combos and this one is super cheerful (#2712). I managed to finish quite a bit of it last night almost-watching the Diamondbacks baseball game with Ron (quiet - but loyal - fan).

the score
The DB's are in first place in the southwestern division after several years deep in the doldrums so there's a bit of a tingle in the air when they play. And there was lots of talk about the upcoming ten year anniversary of their series win during that fateful year of 2001. One of the broadcasters was Joe Garagiola who is still going strong well into his 80s. I'm not a big fan, but in their conversations between plays Joe often says something that makes me laugh. He clearly does not like being old and when someone mentioned that the manager of the team often uses the phrase "dig me" as an incentive to show the guys on video what they've done right, Joe said that at his age he doesn't like those words at all. I can relate.