Cold Wind Off the Bay

I was loving walking around The Clearing on Friday and decided to leave the shelter of the trees to walk down to look out over the bay.  It might have been a mistake.  Oh, not because it wasn't beautiful because it was absolutely gorgeous, but because 11 degrees in the trees is a whole different temperature from 11 degrees in the wind that sails across the frozen bay to slam into you.  My fingers did not like being out of my mitten to snap these pictures.  Nope, didn't like it.
 
 


One of the coolest things I saw on my walk was this tree.  See all those big holes?  Those were made by a Pileated Woodpecker, a big bird that looks like Woody Woodpecker with a black body.  I've only seen them in the wild once or twice and then only for a split second but I did see one when I went out to a wildlife center on the Great American Backyard Bird Count.










Yesterday I did as planned--I spent the day in my yoga pants and hoodie sitting on the couch listening to an audiobook and knitting on Apres Sock #2.  This, however, is heel flap, take 2.  I got all the way to the second last row, only to discover that I had lost 2 stitches somewhere.  I looked and couldn't figure out where they'd gone so I frogged the heel flap and started again this morning.  Success!



Then I turned off the TV and my audiobook to turn the heel.  See?  How cool is that?






This afternoon I went to the thrift shop and found a box of Double Nine dominoes for two bucks.  When I dumped it out I could tell it had been stored for a long time so they got a thorough bath in Dawn and a nice scrub, then I laid them out on a paper towel to dry.  While they dried I sorted them out to make sure they were all there.  They weren't.  But we're only missing 5 of them, the double 0 and four of the eights.  I don't think that'll keep us from playing with them.  Durwood has a plan; if we're drawing for one of those, we need to draw two dominoes and not the whole bone pile.  I think that's a good idea.

March 12--Leon Belly, Pilgrims en Route to Mecca.  They come right out of the canvas, a wall of camels so tall you can't imagine how they mount them and not one uses reins.  How do they steer the imperious-looking beasts?  The man are all turbaned, most are heavily robed but a few are shirtless.  Far down the column of pilgrims veiled women walk carrying babies.  Men and beasts look so alive I expect them to step out of the frame and pass me by.  Most paintings from this era of Manifest Destiny and depictions of noble savages leave a bad taste in my mouth but this one makes me feel the desert heat and squint in the harsh light reflecting of the burning sand.

It's about time to start heating up our last supper here.  Heh, the last supper.  Not so much.  But we pack up and head for home tomorrow.  *sigh*  It's been good to be away but it'll be good to be home too.  I guess.
--Barbara