control? lol

Due to the warmish (and very dry) weather we've had recently, I'm back to walking in the park almost every day and I never know what I'll run into. Like the child's sock hanging from the branch of a bush resembling an alien spring flower in the otherwise umber foliage. I long for color and in many ways it comes to me. The pairs of angora blend hand warmers that I knitted and sent to two very special daughters. Mine and a friend's. The yarn is Rowan's Angora Haze. Sumptuous! (the one on the right is actually a warm olive, not gray as picked up by the camera).

my excuse
Because I've been away from this blog for so long and so many friends check in regularly, I feel I'd like to tell you some of what's happening in my life at this time. My husband has been diagnosed with a rare cancer called nasopharengeal. It strikes about 1 in 100,000 people in the USA and is more prevalent in China and Africa and people of those ancestries (Ron is Sicilian-American!). He has been told the condition is treatable and is taking steps to prepare for it. Because the cancer is located in a very difficult place to get to, surgery isn't possible and he will have to endure specifically targeted chemo and radiation. He is not a young man and the preparation itself has been difficult. As in all diagnoses of this kind, both of our lives have turned upside down. New obstacles have been thrown in our paths. I have not been able to work on my book(s) and he has certainly not been able to work on steel sculpture in his studio. We have many supporters out there who care, send positive energy, prayers, and offer help. Our family is far away and that makes things a bit more complicated for all of us. But we endure and find ways to help each other. What other choice is there? I'm working on letting go when things get overwhelming. Meltdowns aren't pretty. I came upon this great, simple, quote recently and it's become my mantra:

As for color, I thank a dear friend for coming by with cheerful flowers to brighten up our lives for a brief time.

islands in the sky

After all these years, after all the thousands of photos I've taken of sunsets, there's always something new. These clouds, like islands in the sky.

The moon rising, in and out of pink clouds, over The Sacred Mountain.

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them pressed me
suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed
in that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothing
but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure,
and we are so awed because it serenely disdains
to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.
          Rainer Maria Rilke  (trans. Stephen Mitchell)

a sense of time

My beautiful landscape as seen from the second floor deck off the kitchen. I grab the little camera and step out into a surprisingly mild evening. On my long walk in the park today I heard songbirds somewhere in the trees. It will come. The thing called Spring. Meanwhile the tiger stripes on the snowy mountain mesmerize once again -- how many years have I seen this sight? How many photos have I taken -- and each one slightly different? Will I ever be able to leave this place?

Too many things to do these days. My husband dealing with a serious medical condition, decisions to be made, myriad details to pull together, places we have to go. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. I've stopped pretending everything is fine to him or anyone else and just allow myself to be who I am at the moment. I met up with my friend Joan for lattes yesterday morning. Joan  is a serial knitter a hundred floors above me who is designing and teaching. She surprised me with a gorgeous skein of mink yarn. Mink! 100%! (Trendsetter). It was so thoughtful -- and the yarn is amazing. It's brushed from the undercoat of the minks twice a year -- apparently the minks are treated well ("with respect") because an unhealthy animal's hair won't make a beautiful yarn. So no animals were harmed in the making of this yarn. This particular skein is hand-dyed, making it even more delicious to work with.

As soon as I got home I immediately began knitting a Colonnade shawl/scarf (Stephen West Designs). There is just enough yardage for it (if not I'll finish the lace edging with some cashmere that I have in a similar color combo). What a pleasure it is to work with. I realized that I haven't done much knitting in the last couple of months. A pair of hand warmers for a friend, a pair of socks for another friend. A couple (or more) UFOs will, hopefully, be finished soon. But when I touched this yarn I put everything else aside and remembered, as I worked, that this kind of knitting is therapy for me. A meditation that takes up a piece of my overactive mind and forces me to let go as my hands do their thing and I have to count stitches or purl, or yarn over.... It's what got me through a couple of intense sessions recently. I've only been able to blog about once a week lately, and will continue to do so until some space opens up in my life. Soon, I hope. Meanwhile, I'll just enjoy the view, the yarn, a good book, and allow love to envelope me from many different angles.

mountain high

After a day and a half of wind and lowering skies, the clouds lifted yesterday late afternoon to reveal new snow on the mountains. It's always a stunning sight, no matter how many times I see it. I'd just returned from a lovely afternoon. First at Moby Dickens bookshop for Phyllis Hotch's reading and talk and then a small group of women friends walked to the coffee shop and we talked and laughed non-stop covering every subject from illness, creativity, midnight poems, love, loss, weather. Just the thing I needed as my husband is about to begin treatment for a rare cancer. I came home inspirited and was able to convey some of that to him and mitigate his concerns for a little while. For the next couple of months we will probably be living somewhere else as he receives treatment so there's lots to do to prepare for that -- one reason why I haven't been blogging more than once a week. But we're hopeful and have tremendous support from family and friends near and far.

For now, I look up at the solid glowing mountain and something of its strength and light emanates down toward us to tell me that the future will be bright. In spite of the turmoil and "startling changes" for the world that feng shui experts are predicting for the Chinese Year of the Wooden Horse (which is apparently marked by considerable fire -- fire and wood? uh, oh).

And in honor of the Chinese New Year of the Wooden Horse, Issa's poem:
     Hey, sparrow!
out of the way,
     Horse is coming.