A cartoon in the
New Yorker, glanced at quickly in an airport shop, shows a pie divided into thirds. The dialogue balloon says something like this. "Blogs: 1/3 sewing, knitting & other crap, 1/3 travelogue, 1/3 blah, blah". I may not have gotten the words or order exactly right, but I do remember that first third and although it
was humorous, I recognized myself as a perpetrator of one of those wedges (sans crap). I'm home again and slipping into the life I left ten days ago. So many images in my notebook, the camera, my head. I will share a few edible pieces at a time.
yarn
In Sausalito we took a short walk to a fabulous yarn shop with a view of the Bay. It was buzzing with activity and filled with high quality yarns, bags, notions and surprises.
I'd vowed to exercise restraint since, as you know, I recently had a stash sale and am trying to live up to that
impossible minimalist standard of living. The temptation angel overcame me and I bought an expensive 550 yd skein of Blue Heron Yarns "Bluegrass" rayon metallic. Sumptuous! Gorgeous! Guiltless.
food
Eating flowers in an Italian pizzeria/cafe on Fillmore Street I was reminded of when my mother cooked squash flowers and we ate them sprinkled with salt. Crunchy and sweet. Strange and magical to a child. I didn't tell my friends about it lest they think we were a weird family. I still think eating flowers is magical, but don't care about weird anymore.
Here's an organic California artichoke that just happens to be the size of a cantaloupe and fills an entire plate! Tender savory leaves and heart dipped into melted butter. Yum!
Most of all, friendships and seaside images will stay with me the longest. Walking back from the ocean one morning, I took off my Colonnade scarf and tossed it onto a dune where it blended in like a soft chameleon with lace wings. It was made with Madelinetosh Tosh Light yarn and was absolutely the perfect garment for cool overcast mornings and evenings near the water. Now I want to make another in a different color. A place color. In
Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert wrote that every city has one word that describes it. If I recall correctly, Rome was
Sex, New York,
Ambition. Can a color be applied to cities too? I think so. San Francisco? Florence? Paris? Santa Fe? (oh yeah, turquoise).
Everything weathers softly there. Would I? Or would my persona simply turn gray and slowly fade?
the cool autumn wind
subdued by a knitted shawl
and an old weathered kayak
the color of sand
No comments:
Post a Comment