All's Fair

This evening it was time to go pick up my Fair entries and see what ribbons I earned.  I got blue ribbons (1st) on my set of washcloths and on the chrysalis/butterfly toy.  I earned red ribbons (2nd) on my asymmetrical cardigan, fingerless mitts, gloves, and alpaca cowl.  And I earned a pink ribbon (4th) on the toddler hat with the red eyelash yarn.  We asked the supervisor who made sure that entrants only took home their own items if there were guidelines or a standard that the judge uses that we could download to see how we could improve but she said no.  However we can be there when the judging happens next year and will be able to speak to the judge, not to question her opinion, but to learn how we can do better.  I don't understand why more knitters and guild members don't enter the Fair.  It's cheap ($4 for as many items as you care to enter, not $4 each, $4 total), fun, and you get prize money.  Not a lot but you for sure get back your $4 investment.  And you get ribbons to keep forever!  I love my ribbons.  (I'm such a dork but I get great pleasure from seeing them pinned to my knitting.)  We noticed on a display rack near the knitting a bunch of "spa sets", baskets with lotion, soaps, bath salts, bath fizzies, and stuff like that.  I make lotions and lip balms and stuff like that.  Guess I'm entering another category next year. 







Today's flower department features zinnias and lantana.  They look so pretty in the sunlight against the green leaves.





 
I spent most of today packing.  Did a few loads of laundry, sorted through the things that I'd tossed onto the guest bed from the doorway all week, and weeded out stuff I'm not taking.  (a la Mother Malcolm's Packing Rules)  Now all I have to figure out is what knitting I'm taking.  I'm taking my sock project for sure and probably the two charity baby hats I've got OTN.  They're small and lightweight, perfect for travel knitting.  And I want to see if I can't find a smaller camera bag when I'm downtown tomorrow.



The sunset tinted the western sky a beautiful peach color that unfortunately didn't translate very well to "film."  It annoys me no end when that happens.




18 August--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

January

            I looked out my kitchen window at the swirling white.  For days it had been below zero and sunny.  I loved sunny days in winter when the light gleamed on the snow, like rainbows and stars fallen to earth.

Last night’s sunset had been glorious, the soft pinks and oranges quickly fading to purple, charcoal, and then black.  There would be no sunset watching tonight.  I noticed it had started to snow when I locked up before bed last night.  And this morning I could barely see beyond the honeysuckle hedge right outside the kitchen window.  The ringing of the phone startled me.

            “Hello?  Oh, hi, Clara.”

            “Can you believe this blizzard?” Clara said.  “I was supposed to work at the blood drive this morning but I heard on the radio it’s cancelled.”

            “I’m not surprised.  They’d use up more than they’d collect if folks were out driving around in this.”

            “What are your plans for the day?” Clara asked.

            “I don’t know really.  I guess I’ll paint.  Merry keeps pestering me for a painting.  I think she sees me as a Grandma Moses locked in my studio cranking out masterpieces for her to display.  I try to tell her my work is barely out of the refrigerator art stage.”

            “Gail, the things you say.  I think your work’s way beyond ‘fridge art.  I love the painting you did for me.  Everyone who sees it raves about it.”

            “Thanks.”

            I heard Hank’s voice in the background.  “How’re you fixed for milk and bread and such?  If the storm looks like it’s going on too long, Hank says he’ll get out the snowmobile and make a mercy run.”

            “I’m okay for now.  Tell Hank I said thanks.  I promise I’ll call you if I need anything.”

After Clara and I hung up, I went into the studio and put a fresh piece of paper on my board.  What to paint?  Looking out the window was no help.  If I painted what I saw today, I'd be done before I started.  They say that snow has many colors but you need sunlight to make those colors in the prisms of the flakes and I defy anyone to find sunlight in a blizzard.  So I decided to paint the opposite of what I saw.

I washed the paper with a soft turquoise, deepening it at the bottom.  In the left foreground I planted a couple palm trees in a crescent of beach, then I let my imagination run wild.

The hard yellow sun beat on the hibiscus and washed out the colors of the leaves and the flowers drooped under the weight of the light.  Tentative clouds lurked on the horizon, dissipating before they dared to cross the sky.  Out on the invisible water, a lone fisherman in a faded skiff twisted his body as he cast his net.  On the beach curving up the right side of the painting a single set of footprints led to a woman asleep on a colorful beach chair in the dappled shade of a Bougainvillea.  A straw hat shaded her face and a paperback with a lurid cover lay on her chest, her left hand trailing in the sand with a tiny green lizard perched on her wrist like a bracelet.

            It was late afternoon when I stepped back to look at what I'd done, I heard the whine of a snowmobile engine getting louder.  Who would be out in this?  All of Hank and Clara's boys were grown and none of them lived at home.  It couldn’t be some lunatic out for a joyride.  It was just too dangerous.

I went to the window in the living room to see if I could see anyone but the snow was still falling and the wind was still whipping it into a frenzy.  The engine noise got louder and louder and I followed the sound around to the kitchen.  It stopped right outside my back door.

I grabbed a coat and stepped out onto the back porch.  Little drifts of snow had blown under the storm windows and decorated the corners.  The roar of the wind filled the small space so that I felt like I was in a tunnel.

Thinking that whoever was out there might need help, I reached to unlock the outer door just as heavy footsteps mounted the stairs.  I paused a moment with my hand on the doorknob, thinking that only those up to no good would be out in weather like this, but then I chastised myself for watching too much late-night television.  It was probably Hank come to check on me.

I opened the door and saw a figure emerge from the storm, covered head to boots in snow, too tall to be Hank.  His eyes were the only hint that there was an actual human inside all that winter.

"Gail, are you okay?  I tried to call and the lines must be down.  No one answered and I got worried."

I stepped back from the figure as he shook off the snow, still not sure who it was.  He reached up and pulled off his mask, shook his head.  I was shocked when I saw who was under all that white.

"Abel, what are you doing out in this?  Did you ride all the way from your place just because my phone's out?  Are you nuts?"

Abel started to laugh.  Big clumps of snow fell from his snowmobile suit as he threw back his head.  "You're really something, Gail.  Here I am, riding over here feeling like a knight off to save a fair maid, thinking you were going to be in the dark, cut off from civilization, all scared and worried. And here you are just fine, giving me grief for being out in the storm.  I love you."

I took a walk today but didn't plant those pesky lilies.  Maybe I'll put them in front of the house and be done with them. Nah, I want them across the retaining wall.  I have to chop back those mums too so they bloom again when they're supposed to.  What I really want to do is hide under the bed or in the basement sewing up pants and leggings.  Maybe I'll get to do that one day this week.  I'll see what my calendar says.
--Barbara