gift of change

What looks like a painting is a real shelf with real teapots and cups on an ochre wall in a cafe called Dragonfly. Long leisurely brunch with a friend as golden sunshine poured through the late afternoon windows on a cold crisp day. Quite different from yesterday's strong winds and horizontally falling snow (no sign of it today). I've experienced many autumn/winter seasons in Taos, but this year feels different and no one dares speculate (with certainty, as they usually do) about the coming winter. There is an eerie feeling afoot of a different kind of weather. Which reminded me of the absurdist novel (which I loved) by Sean Murphy, The Time of New Weather (Delta, 2005). I opened it to the first paragraph introducing us to things out of joint:

It was the time of new weather. Buddy's earliest memories were of gravity storms, of time storms, of plagues of snails and salamanders. Since boyhood, [he] had seen it literally rain cats and dogs, seen wind blow up from the ground and straight down from the sky, seen snow fall in July and tulips bloom in December And he had often watched lightening strike twice in the same place.

body parts

On a calmer note, I finished a few more items. The socks (there are two) are another "lost in the decade" project. 

Fortunately I had more of the yarn and remembered the pattern. They're nice and woolly and a bit thicker than the socks I usually make. They'll be great in January by the fire (unless it's balmy and tulips are blooming). Tonight I hope to knock off a couple more so-nearly completed projects that, hopefully, someone(s) will love and want to own. I refuse to start anything new until this guilt producing lineup of (potential sales) ufo's become fo's.

"This is the wave of the future. We're going to be the first

nation built entirely on consumerist principles. This is 

beyond Democracy, beyond Socialism, beyond even...um, 

Monarchism. We call it...Total Capitalarianism!"

                                                         Sean Murphy