Our daytime temperatures are in the 50s (F) now. Sort of confusing. Warmth in mid-November isn't especially common. I remember past Novembers here with six inches of snow on the ground and icey sidewalks in town. But yesterday afternoon I found myself sitting on the deck, wearing a light sweater, flip flops, a straw hat, light first snow behind me on mountain peaks, reading Jack Gilbert's poetry. He died a few days ago and I wanted to honor him in some way. Hot sun on my skin, reading about Greek sun, ravens gathering in trees noisily. People talking lately about multitudes of ravens everywhere and wondering why. Not a real life version of The Birds, just an an environment in which they thrive -- at least that's my non-ornithological opinion. So I play with color and words, read, write a little, knit.
It's all the same. Color. Words. No matter from where they emanate. Do we all see it the same way? Do you feel the power? The older woman in me loves the quote from Judi Dench that I read today:
One of the benefits of being a mature, well-educated woman is that you are not afraid of expletives. And you have no fear to put a fool in his place. That's the power of language and experience. You learn a lot from Shakespeare.
where the wild things are
I finish a couple more pairs of Wild Thing Mittz. Many have already been claimed. It seems this is the year for fingerless hand warmers. At the supermarket self-checkout today, my inventory at home ten miles north, a friend claimed the last cashmere pair, sight unseen. And last night watching old movies, I finished these two in wool (left) and alpaca (right):
And decided to display socks at the Yuletide Fair next week in a sweet little vintage-look case. What do you think?
The second half of my meditation/writing workshop happens this weekend starting tomorrow so I'll be unable to tweak any more unfinished knitted items. Then its an article to write and some blocking and tagging of hand knits. Ron will do all the Thanksgiving cooking (unless I decide to bake an apple pie) and we will enjoy the feast together, alone at home while I put finishing touches on inventory for the Fair starting at 9 next morning. But most important today, I mailed a box of books and bears to dear Dante who will celebrate his second birthday on Sunday. I understand the theme is Cookie Monster.
...We stand/looking at the ruin of our garden
in the early dark of November, hearing crows
go over while the first snow shines coldly
everywhere. Grief makes the heart
apparent as much as sudden happiness can.
(last lines of Jack Gilbert's "Harm and Boon in the Meetings")
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