so far so good

Browsing through older photos on memory cards looking for something that now I can't remember what or why, I came across this guy who I remember refused to move off the book, giving me sidelong warning looks.  I was visiting a friend and late at night we knitted together. Snowshoe (Shoe for short, had six toes on each foot) liked to knock around knitting needles and bite into them ~ I still have a pair of bamboos, size 13, with his teeth marks on them!

I'd forgotten about the button craze I went through. Same friend, different time, we were elbow deep in bins of vintage buttons in a dusty sewing shop in the heart of a city. Neither of us sews but a spell came over us and we were girls playing. I used a few of mine on felted bags, she decorates her knitted hats, and we make hardly a dent in our button collections. Padre Martinez in 1840 Taos, left 44 pairs of knitted socks in his will, it seems I'll have to list buttons in mine.


and the full moon gets closer...
I awaken two nights in a row. The house is light in spite of the overcast night sky. I go into the next room to see if a lamp has been left on. No lights are on. My sinuses are acting up, I can't sleep, I take a valerian capsule with hot rose tea, go back to sleep. Go out for a haircut this morning and then, looking less shaggy, take the mac to the coffee shop, find my favorite private corner table empty. Perfect! I get some work done among other seemingly serious workers at their laptops. Warm sun is shining through dusty windows and there's vernal magic in the air.

A wild incipience in the air
as if everything stilled
is deeply active, the night cascading
through the tall pines
until it's in the house.
     Stephen Dunn (first lines, "So Far")