Playing tag with spring

Spring in Oregon takes a long time coming.  It’s a lot like winter for many days, rainy and cold with some wind or snow or hail thrown in just for the heck of it.  Maybe it’s not quite as cold as January was, but shorts and sandals are not in your vocabulary during March.  Every once in a while a sunny day will come along and it’s easy to think, “Ah, spring is here.  This is great, I can handle this. ”  But then winter comes galloping back that afternoon or the next day and stays for a week and a half again.  Spring peeps its warm head again for a fleeting day or two, just to remind us that there is a possibility of warmer weather, but don’t get used to it yet.

Today was one of those days.  We had a heavy duty rainstorm over the weekend that reminded Bob and I of some of the whoppers that blew through the coast when we lived there.  And then today, sunny skies as far as the eye could see with just a hint of a breeze to flutter the pink blossoms on the trees.  Perfection.

This unassuming little spot is essentially the employee smoking area for City Hall.  I’ve never seen anyone use it, smoking or non.  Hopefully no one smokes at all.  Lucy has had her eye on the picnic table beneath these two trees since the rains started last November, waiting waiting with great patience (one of her impressive personal strengths) for the weather to cooperate.  All winter as we slogged our way to the library through the dreary depths of slashing rain, we  passed this oasis in the eye of a four-year-old beholder.  Lucy’d cheerily remark, “I can’t wait for our picnic here!”

The last week or two has been hard to wait; we’ve checked the progress on the buds every time we pass, but finally today the sun and the blossoms coordinated for a perfect picnic lunch.  The girls have already spent many happy hours here on dry-ish days playing in the bushes, collecting leaves and flowers, playing games that only small kids understand.  I bring my knitting and get a bit done as they giggle and search for ladybugs.  Today again, we spent probably close to two hours here, just puttering in this little patio.

I recently mentioned our special picnic spot to the teller at the credit union, and she was amazed that Lucy and Molly could spend so much time in such a small spot.  I’m amazed that the girls agree to finally come home at all!  The secret to such hours of happy play?  Just let them be.  I don’t come up with the games, or make suggestions of any kind except to remember not to scream because people are working inside the building.  Just let the kids be and they do their thing.

Also on a spring note, we have two new chicks.  At least one and maybe two of our hens are slowing down on their egg production.  The plan has always been to enjoy the chickens’ eggs and then enjoy the meat when they’re done laying, so Bob is planning to do some butchering in the near future.  We have never named the chickens, so they’re not pets.  And the new chickies are so darn cute.  The girls have been able to really watch and notice things daily about the chicks as we raise them indoors.  It’s a fun observation opportunity.

The bigger one is an Australorp, the smaller one is a silver-laced Wyandotte.  We got the Australorp a day ahead of the other, so she was alone for one day and night.  I figured she was small enough I didn’t need to put any sort of lid or top on the her box that first night.  Oops.  In the morning, she was gone.  For a variety of reasons, we have a variety of holes in a number of walls of the house, and Bob and I assumed the worst.  But as we started talking about what to do, I heard the tiniest little peep.  And then again.  She had hopped herself onto the water jar, out of the box, and had sheltered herself between some jars of applesauce stored in a corner.  Silly chickie!  After a little warming up in my hands and then under the light, she was just fine.  And once her roommate came that evening, her peeps changed from loud and rather anxious to soft and contented.  She was just lonely.

They’re growing quickly, I don’t think we can keep using this Rubbermaid tote box much longer.  I love how they join in the rhythm of the house, quieting down for the night and then peeping again in the morning when folks begin to rouse.  Molly is adept at catching them, Lucy watches but won’t touch.  It’s great to see all the wee things of the house together.

My favorite wee things:

Finally, happy birthday Molly!  We had a family party early in the month right at her birthday, but a party for friends had to be postponed till this past weekend because of our outbreak of chickenpox!  All is well, everyone is now immunized and pox-free.

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A long winter’s nap…and knit

It seems that the blog has been taking a break for the winter.  Not that there hasn’t been anything to write about, we’ve been having all kinds of fun doing and making and going and being.  In any case, my writing is coming back to me, so here we go.

What have I been doing these last couple of months?  Well, knitting, in large amounts.  Whee!

Ponchos for the girls.  I’m also working on a neckwarmer for myself and on tap is a sweater for Bob.  It seems like a big undertaking, and it is, but I’m really excited about such a big project.

Knitters (and probably most anybody, really) tend to describe themselves as process or product knitters.  Process knitters make something for the process itself, the doing and the making, not necessarily to have an end result.  I have a friend who happily has knit half a mitten, just to try the technique, then tore it out because she figured out the technique and didn’t want a mitten to begin with.  Product knitters knit to create a finished item.  Of course these two polarities have an infinite number of knitters in between them, including myself.  I tend to choose new patterns or techniques each time I make something, with the end goal to complete the whole thing and use it.  I think I’d put myself close to the middle of those two poles, leaning more toward the product knitters.

As much as I enjoy learning and challenging myself with new patterns and methods, it’s more important to have a finished item that is the way I want it.  I have ripped out and re-knit a whole sweater (and other things) because I refuse to invest that much of my time in making something that doesn’t fit.  And when I say, “doesn’t fit,” I mean it didn’t fit the way a two-year-old doesn’t fit into her dad’s size 12 galoshes.  It was stomping enormous!  Happily, the massive tent-sweater is gone and in its place a sleek vest with no droops, sags, or baggy sleeves anywhere.

And, it turns out, in these last few years of knitting, I’m actually becoming a better knitter.  Most exciting for me, I am learning to find and correct my mistakes.  That is a huge accomplishment for me.  I’m not really good at troubleshooting and problem-solving.  Well, maybe I am, I don’t know, but it’s not what I enjoy doing.  Math in school was always such a murky and frustrating subject because I didn’t understand it enough to find my mistakes and make the problem turn out right.  It didn’t help that the concepts and theories were usually just beyond my grasp, and that any practical application of said concepts was never discussed in class. But that’s all behind me now and I rarely, if ever, have to even think about algebra, much less use it.

So here I am nearly twenty years after my last math class (wow, really?!), going through my work, poring over the instructions, counting stitches, until I find my mistake and figure out how to make it right.  This time, it’s not just some piece of homework, it’s a neckwarmer I really care about and want to fit right.  It’s not an abstract formula, but an actual piece of work I can hold in my hand and design to my exact criteria.  I can put it on my child to keep her warm.  I’ve  been thinking a lot about this epiphany the last few days and how empowering it is to be able to find and solve my own problems!  I don’t need to ask for help, I can do it myself.

You wouldn’t think right off that there could be so much to knitting.  But it’s really a whole world.  Even though I don’t have much to do with wool while it’s on the sheep and before it’s transformed into yarn, I love the whole organic process of turning fluffy wool into something cozy warm.  There’s the pattern selection, the yarn consideration, the color choice, the gauge swatch, the slow and methodical knitting itself, until finally a finished pair of slippers, or hat, or men’s sweater emerges off the needles and onto someone I love and care about.  Knitting is not a fast hobby;  I hope to have Bob’s sweater done for him by next fall.  But as important as it is to me to have a finished item, I like to savor the process: casting on, seeing the first few inches come along, watching how the yarn changes from string to fabric, learning new technical bits, and the final cast-off.  Process and product, knitting is the perfect pasttime for Oregon’s long dark winter months.

Okay, if this was a little too much gushing about knitting, I’ll quit.  Bob has to put up with quite a bit more of it, although he professes he doesn’t mind.  I have a few more posts coming soon with not much to say about knitting.  Happy spring, it’s coming soon!

 

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