Tourist-ing & More Yarn

Yesterday we slept late--until 10 o'clock for me and I never do that--so we didn't leave on our driving tour until just before noon.  We drove into Keeneland, the thoroughbred racecourse, even though there's no racing there just now.  We've been there a few times for the racing but I never noticed how pretty the stables where the horses for that day's races wait their turn are, and on the backside of the course we could see the grandstands in the distance.  The tour (watch for the signs with the blue horse logo) took us past absolutely beautiful horse farms with miles of white or black fences, manicured paddocks, and curious baby horses.  (foals? colts? yearlings?)  We passed a field of tobacco waiting to be harvested and a castle some developer built for a home but is now an exclusive hotel.  I think my favorite feature of driving around Lexington is the stone fences.  I read that they were brought by Irish & Scottish stonemasons in the 18th and 19th centuries and after emancipation the art was taken up by black stonemasons.  Whoever made them, they are beautiful.



After supper DD picked me up for knit night at Rebelle, her LYS (local yarn shop).  It, too, is in an old house and features small rooms jam-packed with yarn for every taste and need.  There is a lot of handspun, a slew of pattern books, and the friendliest of friendly staff.  As always I shopped the clearance shelves and made away with a few skeins to knit a cardi for LC for next winter (the yarn has sparkles in it) and a couple skeins of Silky Wool because I'm so enjoying knitting the Virgo Hat out of it.






Speaking of the Virgo Hat, I got most of another repeat knitted at knit night.  After our tour but before supper I added a few repeats onto the Bee Stitch Cloth.  (it sure is hard to photograph white knitting)  Today I confess I'm going back to Magpie to see if she's still got that baby llama yarn in her sale baskets.  Durwood gave me a little birthday money for it.  Eeee!

September 4--Peter B. Kaplan, Commuters in Rain.  The rain beat on Carla's umbrella making it sound like she was inside a drum.  She was glad she had on her old leather sneakers because the water on the sidewalk was at least half an inch deep.  She knew her feet would get wet, actually they were already wet and her socks stuck to her toes but at least it wasn't a good pair of shoes getting ruined.  It was hard to hurry when everyone's personal space expanded by the three-foot diameter of an umbrella.  Street corners were a tangle of umbrella rib tips at various heights that snagged sleeves and each other and nearly tugged her umbrella out of her hand when the light changed.  She wasn't paying attention, she was too interested in seeing if the umbrellas matched their owners.

Not my best effort.  It was one of those nights that started with an idea that melted away almost as soon as pencil hit paper.  Ah well, such is writing.  I'm off.  Later, dudes and dudettes.
--Barbara