Another FO

Finished Object, that is.  Once I finished the Fiddlehead sock the other day I knew I'd finish the Packers with a Hint of Vikings Bib before I started anything else, and last night at Friday Night Knitting I did.  I like it.  It's a little narrow but that's something that can be changed.  I suspect that the yarn's not quite as thick as advertised so I'll have to up the stitch count next time.

The cool thing was that new-to-the-group FW asked how LC was liking food (she appears to be a big fan of sweet potatoes) and then she gave me this cute pink bib for LC, made with the very same pattern I used for the Packers/Vikings Bib.  Great minds...  Next I need to make one for Cousin LZ who lives in the land of the Vikings.  Minnesota, I mean, and in their stronghold, Minneapolis, too.

Yesterday afternoon Durwood and I had an appointment on the east side so I swung by DS & DIL1's, LC's, the chickens' house and look what I found.  An egg!  You can't really tell but it's the softest, palest blue-green.  Such a pretty egg, it'll be a crime to crack and eat it... but we'll manage.

Last night when I got home from knitting I looked at the sky (like I always do) and there was the moon, half the moon anyway, shining down on me.  I took its picture (like I always do) and wish I knew how to make better night/moon pictures with my camera (like every other time) but it was so pretty and peaceful I knew that you'd appreciate it like I do.

The flower kettles across the front of the house are looking very good right now.  I love the red geraniums with the yellow marigolds (which I think smell a little like skunk) and the gray-green Dusty Miller.  Dusty Miller always makes me think of my Grandma Angermeier.  She planted it as an edging around her evergreens and I remember her telling me how it got its name.  I especially remember seeing her brush her hands together as if she were brushing off flour like a miller.  Good, bittersweet memories.

June 7--Pierre Puvis de Chavannes, The River.  No one really liked that the gypsies were camped down by the river but no one could find a real reason to send them away.  They had permission to be there; Old Stanley had let the traveling people stay on his bottom land by the river for decades and didn't see why he should clear them off now.  "They ain't hurting nothing nor no one," he said when Mrs. Greene buttonholed him about them in front of the hardware store that Saturday.  "They're nothing but common thieves," she said, but when he asked her what she was missing she was stuck for an answer.  Two of the men set up a stall at the edge of the weekly market to sharpen knives and mend broken pots and pans.  They did a brisk business, were polite, and charged a fair price without gouging.  Loretta Willis seemed to be there with a tin pot needing a handle or a couple dull paring knives all summer long.  A few of the young men from town, some of the older ones too, wandered down to the camp of a night after chores to play dice and sip a little homebrew.  Abner Mackenzie got all duded up and started walking out with the daughter of one of the tinkers from the market day stall.  No one minded any of it much until word got around that Miranda Hawes was seen walking down through Old Stanley's orchard with one of the gypsy boys and they were holding hands.  Miranda hadn't come home Friday night.

Now it's time for me to get myself ready because I get to go get a haircut today pretty soon.  A haircut, people, perhaps even a hairstyle.  Won't that be interesting?  Especially considering that I don't have the "hairdo" gene.  I can wash my hair and comb it, I can even put it back with combs or clips or rubber bands but I can't style it, never in my life have I been able to do a hairstyle.  Maybe she'll be able to help me.  I'm getting excited.  I'll report.
--Barbara