Those words kept running through my head when I was knitting on the Autumn Cumulus sock at work yesterday. I had finished the instep and was ready to plunge into knitting the heel and ankle so I followed the directions which for the first 23 rows mimicked what I'd done for the last scallops but then I started making this long column of six and then four stitches. Hmm. Deciding to trust the pattern I doubled back, picking up a boatload of stitches along the left edge of where I'd just been, and now I'm knitting short rows, I'm assuming to shape one side of the heel. I haven't gone far enough to be certain but I think that's what I'm doing. The thought crosses my mind... how many times did the designer knit, rip, and reknit to make this the way she wanted it to be? Did she wear out the yarn with knitting and frogging and knitting? Yikes. This is some serious engineering.
The yellow lilies are still going great guns and Dad's roses are blooming. I discovered why I won't have any stargazer lilies this year. See this little, 4" tall stalk with three leaves on it? It's gnawed off. Thank you, bunnies. Now I don't regret one minute the Red-tailed hawk having rabbit for supper last week. Oh, and the other surviving Asiatic lily is budding nicely.
June 14--Bill Ashe.
Sleek black curves
like polished panther fur
Not a great night for wordsmithing. Hey, it's Flag Day. Wave the Stars & Strips to celebrate the land of the free and the home of the brave. Also the sad. There is a pall over us all and it's getting heavier all the time. Some days it feels like our society is circling the drain and picking up speed. Sorry, but even me, a dyed-in-the-wool Pollyanna, can't see around this. Yet. But I'll get there. I have faith in people holding each other up.