The art of getting away

Even if it takes ten months when it should only take ten minutes, plan it anyway. And if you meant to go in time to see Fall in full color but know you've missed your window, go anyway.

Because I know you'll find something beautiful that you've missed.

And that has missed you. It's been waiting for you to come back.







This time only better, together.

Early

"Wake up," he said. "You've got to see this." So I rolled out of bed and over to the window, where we sat and looked, and looked, wondering for a moment if we were seeing islands in a calm sea, or the mountains from the night before, peeking up through the low clouds that had rolled in overnight.

And we watched the sun come up. Quickly. By mid-morning, the valley, uncovered. "To think," I said, "this happens every morning. If we'd only take the time to see."

On the other side

I think (i think) it has finally stopped raining.

I'm not sure if it's the rain itself, or the things it prevents me from doing that bothers me the most. But every time it rains and I'm disappointed about what I "can't" do and the sog and wind and wet grows so old so fast, I have to remind myself that I'm dry. Mostly. And that's when I decide that I can wait until it's over, no matter how long it takes.

And next time you see me I just may be out canoeing in our new lake in the field in front of the house.

The new old

Keeping in mind that this site should demonstrate a little knitting every once in a while, I give you some not so new hat styles that I'm finally (after many months of hauling them to market) getting around to putting in my shop.

This is just one of many things I forget to do, right up there with forgetting to give the 13 year old cat her allergy medicine before my husband falls asleep (it is after all a 2 person job), forgetting the seemingly endless list of things the kids need to do or take with them to school on a daily basis, return phone calls (seems like it's all about email these days), put enough water in the rice cooker and clean the shower.

They are, in order, the organic knitted hat--cream with blue flower, simple knitted hat--navy with pistachio, simple organic knitted hat--pink and brown. Enjoy!

Close supervision

On the way up from gathering eggs, I feel as though I'm being watched, in a sideways sort of way.

Like, look at me, I want to you but I'm pretending like I don't.


See? I'm way too cool for you.


But not really.

Will you come play?

I'm so cute and you know it.

I'm right here, even though I know you can't see me behind this fence.

Invisible.

But still cute.

And if you're not going to come play, at least let me at those eggs.

What a gorgeous time of year.

The waiting room

I've dragged this rocking chair into my new office every day for the past four days to sit, to wait. Waiting for my daughter to get over her flu, waiting for my husband to come home from four days away fishing, waiting and dreaming and picturing this new office for all it will one day be.

I can see the sanctuary already and perhaps I'll start refering to it as "studio" rather than "office", which lacks the inspiration I already feel in the room. It's so light, and bright, and a happy, calm place.

I was sitting here this morning, listening to quiet music, knitting and conjuring up design ideas. The big window will one day be surrounded by a window seat, and cubbies all the way around. The built in desk and shelves on the other side of the room will be simple and white, the desktop with linen underneath a glass top, and a storage closet closed with a simple linen curtain rather than a door.

So, I'm starting with this as inspiration for background texture.




And this rug for the floor. I've wanted one like it since the '70's. Really.

As for color, this next picture pretty much encapsulates my idea for the rest of the room.

Along with these:









Then finally I'll have a place to hang this rustic rake I was given as a Christmas gift by my mother in law who just knew I'd be able to find a neat place for it one day. I hope she was right.

I'm thinking of hanging it on one of the walls and surrounding it with prints/pictures like this one, which I'm pretty sure I'll want to purchase. So with all of this coming together as it is I'm surprising myself. It's really not like me to have this much of a plan at this stage of the game, my decorating in the past being so thrown together as it were.

Seasons passing

I only went to the pumpkin patch three times this year, and yes, that may sound like two times too many, but they love it so. Two of the trips were with different classes at school and if we're talking about memories here, then there's no such thing as too many good ones.

I actually never went to the pumpkin patch as a kid, not even once. I'm probably among friends here, but I can't really remember if they were a big thing in the 70's, were they? Had the marketing machine infiltrated society so much back then as it has now? I'm pretty sure it hadn't. Regardless, I now go to the pumpkin patch whenever I'm asked.

And later we carve, and scoop and get messy and the kids plan out their own designs and draw them on the pumpkins. Each night we forget to light them like we say we're going to, there's not much incentive to do so, for no one comes to the house to trick-or-treat, we're not sitting in the right spot, so the lighting and the candles is just for us. I'm happy to light the candles, I know what that feels like still, to get lost in the light and to see what it does to a carved pumpkin, and for me it's a little glimpse of what's to come with Christmas, and the lights, and the tree.


But I'm getting ahead of myself here. I hardly like to skip over Thanksgiving and if you want to know the truth it's become my favorite holiday, right up there with Christmas. I'm the recently (self-) appointed hostess and I love it. Thanksgiving was a season to be tolerated and quickly glanced over when I was young, but I secretly always wanted it to be big, and overflowing with food and laughter and family and I had visions of those things every year, I just never knew they'd be the ones I'd one day create in my own home.

So I'm painting, constantly vaccuuming up sheet rock dust and planning and waiting on furniture and hoping this disassembled living space is ready in part for guests. I know the addition won't be finished, but it's far enough along to have a great Thanksgiving. Someone timed that just right.