basic magic

Finished the KnitPicks Felici rainbow socks late last night while trying to block out of my hearing the D'backs baseball game Ron watched even though the team's at the bottom of the league and they generally lose.

I'd planned to include a photo of a recent real sky rainbow but that cliche is so prevalent that I thought I'd spare you - even though they are slightly magical and I take useless photographs time after time. When we first moved to these mountains, close friends moved here too. We called each other that whole first summer filled with almost daily double Disney rainbows whose entire arch we could see. This was new to lifelong New Englanders and Manhattanites. There was a lot of talk about the pot of gold and how lucky we were to have found this place. My friend said, "we bought the rainbow package!" She is gone now but (and here comes the inevitable cliche) I think of her every time I see a rainbow in the summer sky.

So. Back to basics. It was easy to match the yarn's stripes exactly. Usually I prefer unmatched pairs but somehow these called for symmetry. I used the plain and simple 60 stitch pattern I wrote up in my 2003 chapbook Mastering the Art of Sock Knitting (still available in an updated version) and 2.5mm dpns. Nothing else was necessary - the colorful soft yarn made the statement. Now into the soxbox they will go until some future chilly autumn day (it's coming - nights are cooler) when I'll decide to keep, sell, or give them away.

Twilight rain high up
crosses paths with setting sun
and new handmade socks

music to the day

My neighbor's sweet white horse was back again briefly last week - to the delight of my urban guests. What is it about horses in landscapes? And me taking pictures of them from my deck a couple of acres away? They do create a tranquil scene as they go about their business which is mostly about eating and what goes along with eating. I'm still surprised every time I see a horse suddenly roll around in the dust on its back or lie down on its side like death and fall asleep. Or (and this one always gets me) pick up a stick in its mouth and use it to scratch its rump!

new project alert!
I think I found a pattern for the new Road to China yarn. It's the Cotty sock pattern by IrishgirlieKnits. I read about it on the Yarn Harlot blog and downloaded it from Ravelry. I just have to figure out if this yarn is dk or fingering weight since the pattern covers both.

On this medium blue sky day the wind blowing in once again feels like an ocean wind. The last couple of nights' steady rain has kept everything deep green this late into summer. I sit at my desk with lace curtains blowing in and out above me (sounds romantic but the curtains came from Walmart many years ago - and  altho I dislike the aforementioned store and what they stand for I can't seem to get rid of the curtains). Breezy days like this feel like they'll last forever. But then that's always the way I feel about mountain weather. Good or bad, it seems like it's always been and always will be. And I suppose, objectively, that's true.

zoned out

The petals are falling from the bouquet of sunflowers on the table. I know I should remove and toss them, but I can't seem to do it yet. Since Saturday I've been removing vestiges of the family's visit. Doing laundry non-stop - sheets, pillowcases, blankets. For a whole year these items each had a storage place in this small house, but I can't seem to find space for these last few. They must have been somewhere. But where? So until I solve the mystery, these pillows and blankets will sit on the table downstairs (the table was somewhere else too).

I found out what a onesie is but didn't find a pattern I liked. Instead I found a "halfsie" - warm baby leggings made with sock yarn. Perfect for a winter baby due in November. What I've done so far seems so small, but I seem to recall that newborn babies tend to be on the small side. I found the free pattern online and if it works out (one never knows until the last stitch is made) I might try one in a thicker yarn and bigger needles for when the baby outgrows this one - I also seem to remember that they grow awfully fast. So far I have only one leg almost finished. I still don't believe it will fit a real baby but I'm willing to go the distance because it's so cute. I'm using Opal sock yarn (I have a stash) in their Masked Ball series.

And today I started The Zone. No more chocolate-covered strawberries (I threw away what was left), too much wine (only 4 ozs of red tonight with dinner), cake (green, ugh!), bread (sigh). I'd really like to trim down again because a slim body makes everything else attractive - including (I hope) my new mint green toenail polish. The perception of an old fat lady with green toenails is quite different from a slim women of a certain age sporting green toenails - don't you agree?

cool rainclouds gather
stacks of blankets and pillows
humming laundry sounds
my house so empty today
        where has everyone gone?

in a world of color

The family has gone home to the east and west. It's quiet here now and all the evidence that's left of their visit are the sheets and pillowcases that are being laundered. And the leftover tiramisu I just ate. And the six chocolate covered strawberries that was breakfast. What's left of the alligator cake will have to be sacrificed to the garbage gods or else it's death by green sugar. Starting on Monday I'm going fat flush! But today's only Saturday. We drove yesterday to Albuquerque via Santa Fe. Arriving at 4:45 I just had time to walk to Tutto before they closed, while they headed for ice cream cones at the Plaza Bakery. It didn't take long to find "Road to China silken jewels" dk yarn. It's made up of baby alpaca, cashmere, camel, silk and is the softest. The color is citrine and I bought two skeins for now until I can figure out what I want to make with it.

At the Pueblo the other day we visited a shop that sells dyed corn necklaces. They were lovely and colorful.

When I finished a sock at Loka Cafe this morning I was reminded of the necklaces. The sock is made with KnitPicks Felici sock yarn and although I planned it for a baby hat it somehow became something else. That's the mystery of yarn. It has a mind of its own and if you force your will upon it and don't listen, it may not satisfy - and after all those stitches and time, who wants that? I can't wait to start the second one. After a week of not knitting I'm sort of feeling deprived.

As I anticipated, the females in the family (ages 15-42) plotted to go home with hand knitted items. The night before they left, they rummaged through my storage boxes, oohed and aahhed, grabbed and made deals and negotiations with each other (largely ignoring me as I finished the last of the champagne). The kitchen table was six inches deep with a shocking number of finished items. Even I was a bit surprised. They finally chose three pairs of socks each, two market bags and one purple cardi (that my daughter says she will wear every day all during nasty New England winter). I tried to take pictures but the energy was so high that no one stood still long enough. There was so much enthusiasm and encouragement that I'll probably continue this knitting obsession until I keel over. I will give consideration to the specific requests each of them had but I'm not fond of knitting on demand. If the project appeals to me I'll know it will get finished and they will get lucky (color-striped market bag, infant "onesie with ears" (what's a onesie?), men's socks/shoe size 13 (don't think so), legwarmers to drape over boot tops).

hot August night
on the kitchen table
my birthday flowers wilt

time itself unwinds

Time itself unwinds (Leonard Cohen)

After many years away I got back to Taos Pueblo today. It's ten minutes away from my home, but living near something extraordinary creates the illusion that one can return anytime. Time passes and I returned with my visiting family. The pueblo is more than 1,000 years old. The Taos Pueblo people are one of the few tribes - if not the only ones in North America - who were not forcefully relocated from their lands. No one lives in the village proper these days and many residences have been converted into shops that sell handcrafts - jewelry, drums, music, pottery. I have always found the Pueblo to be a magical place with a spiritual atmosphere. Today though, two things happened when I stepped into the village. It felt rundown and neglected and the magic was elusive. I was dismayed by the sight of the imposing five story building cracked and crumbling in places. Photos I'd taken of the place years ago, alive with laundry and curtains in windows, is now deteriorating and desolate. In the past the Indians remudded the buildings every year. Walls sparkled with adobe mud and straw, glints of mica. The village is divided in half by the Rio Pueblo and when we crossed over the wooden bridge we noticed the other side of the village in much better condition. I have no idea of why this is happening to this amazing site. I am not privy to Pueblo politics. There is a casino now (just outside the village) and one would think that revenues from it could easily pay for upkeep. But as I said, I am not privy to the inner workings of this sovereign place. It just felt sad.

Last night was my birthday dinner. At some point in the afternoon five cooks (one an actual professional chef) and one dog (underfoot) were in the kitchen whipping, sauteing, marinating things. The house had been decorated earlier with balloons, crepe paper chains, a festive tablecloth. An extended family member arrived and nine people dined on chicken marsala, butter mashed potatoes, brown rice, marinated grilled salmon, salad, champagne, chocolate swirled strawberries, tiramisu, apple cobbler, ice cream, and one enormous green alligator birthday cake (no, I don't get the connection either but it was inscribed with the names of the three of us with birthdays within days of each other and was fun and silly - maybe that's the only connection that matters).  After dinner we went outside onto the second floor deck and lighted sparklers left over from my birthday party five years ago! They sputtered and sparked and this time the smoke detectors didn't go off.

We have one more day together before everyone has to get back to their lives in New Mexico, Connecticut, Nevada. This has been an extraordinary week and one I'll remember as long as memory persists.

     In words of love
a tiny bit of exaggeration
feels right. 
                          Antonio Machado

a different rabbit hole

Amidst a madly cluttered house (the same one I spent weeks cleaning!) and tons of food being prepared and eaten (two cakes and one pan of brownies so far) four members of our family are here and one more is due tonight. Life has been noisy and funny since they arrived and the house has grown smaller.We all drove up to Taos Ski Valley yesterday and had a decadent late lunch outside on the deck at The Bavarian restaurant at 10,500 feet amidst ponderosas and aspens, hot sun and soft breezes. Our waiter, in a white shirt with billowy sleeves (the same type that look so sexy in old swashbuckler movies) merely mentioned homemade apple strudel and we were on it. It was delivered with several forks, ice cream, whipped cream, and disappeared from the plate in seconds. We did not order seconds and drove off contented, talking about it and naps.

On another subject. For two nights my friend Susana Guillaume performed her one-woman show The Pinnacle of my French Ambition in Taos. It was fabulous. She is a writer and dancer who will be performing again in Santa Fe in September. This is the second in her series of one-woman shows. If you are anywhere in the area, try to catch it. I have written with her at various times and places on and off for more than a decade and always admire her funny and perceptive insights. Now she is sharing them with the public in these fresh and new shows.

So, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland when she was squashed into the house that had grown too small around her, I will take a drink of something and hope to recover my ordinary size again before going to the tea party that will take place in some version or other when the gang returns from their day at the hot springs.

"She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself "Which way? Which way? holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing; and she was surprised to find that she remained the same size. To be sure, this is what generally happens when one eats cake."
                                                        Lewis Carroll
                                                        Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

falling into the sky

Since I do not need another obsession I have resisted learning to spin. However, today's clouds look so much like fleece that it makes me want to possess a great big bundle of it in exactly those shades of gray. It has to be cashmere though. I've decided that life is too short to knit with anything but cashmere forever and ever - or until it's out of my system (possible?).

This week I've been a good do-bee. Went to a chamber music concert on Sunday night, met up with a friend for a brief cafe break, bought a great vanilla colored Coach bag in town at the chic resale shop Re-neux, wrote a few rough poem drafts - but mostly scrubbed toilets, sinks, floors, decluttered surfaces and emptied my workroom in preparation for the arrival of family members on Friday afternoon. I'm looking forward to the week ahead with them and just hope I won't be too tired to enjoy late hours of talk, wine, lots of food, some sightseeing (been there, done that), a dinner party and general departure from routine. A big box arrived FedX today and I have been instructed not to open it. I'm itching to sneak a look and can probably close it up again undetected - but my daughter said she's set traps inside so she'll know. Amazing how roles shift after a bunch of decades!

The horses were removed to another field this weekend. After only two weeks or less, three horses can denude even the lushest green field. They are eating machines. But, I agree with Alice Walker who wrote, "horses make a landscape more beautiful". One of the horses came by to say goodbye to Spike.

The problem is, we think we have time
                                     Jack Kornfield