..ever have one of those days where it seems like the only person you talked to was yourself, whether in your head or on paper? So many times lately it seems that the email I thought I wrote, never actually left my head because the other person hasn't a clue to what I am referring to...and you know trying to re-create it now just would not be the same as the glorious words you used the 'first time' they were said or written.....sheesh....
Well...I guess I am going to have to get more techie and start using the voice memo App on my phone (once I figure out how, of course)...that might be the ticket to NOT having writer's block, though may pose a problem if the wonderful story ideas and emails and etc did not always take place in the shower when electronics are not a good idea....
So many ideas, not enough time, not enough of Me.....maybe I need a clone...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
When is a house a home ?
As a child, I often wandered thru the nearby woods “exploring” and spending time observing the ongoing saga of minute wildlife and listening in on their “conversations”….It was on one such trek that I discovered a hole in the ground, a depression really, fairly near a deer run. I had often wondered about this small depression in the woods, sitting as it was so close to an old stone wall…what it might have been, what had stood there, what it had been used for…Digging in the dirt within the confines of that depression yielded innumerable treasures, some of which were a puzzle to a child’s mind. The dirt yielded bits of glass, rusted metals and nails, and shards of pottery. The walls of the depression revealed themselves to be just that, walls of stone much like the kind used in old foundations. These walls revealed their age in the number of rooted saplings growing from them, further tearing them down….
And so I imagined…building up this place in my mind and making my own history to go with it. What must these walls have seen in their day? What joys and sadness, what comings and goings, how many seasons had they held it all within? Come with me, if you will, as we go up to the main house from the basement (which is what my imaginations decided this must have been). History says that many old farmhouses that were built on hillsides used the lower story, the ground floor as it were, as the barn area for their animals – protection for their animals from the ‘beasts of prey’ that roamed beyond its walls at night. And without knowing or understanding the science behind it, they used the body heat of their animals so that as the heat rose, the house above could benefit from it. And on this level, the main floor of the house, I stand in the middle of the floor and turn slowly in a circle to examine each corner and direction…I see the entryway to the stairwell, lined with dour-faced portraits of ancestors with their respective children looking equally as dour and stiff, as though upset at losing precious daylight hours of chore time in order to be ‘gussied up for pictures”, and of course all are wearing period clothing of their day….I see the big black corner of the kitchen range (wood-fired of course) peaking through another doorway…. This was the heart of the home in days past. Everyone congregated around the kitchen table to discuss the day’s events and happenings, to break bread together after a long day’s work in the fields, to visit with a neighbor and perhaps share a cup of tea…this was where you would find the matriarch of the clan holding court – this was her domain, and woe to the poor male who dared trod across its clean floor with barn-muddied boots! Here too, was the where the wonderful smells emanated from and permeated every inch of the house with their essence…the scent of warm bread baking and almost ready to eat, vying with the scent of fermenting yeast in a new batch of bread dough that had been set to rise…(yumm…now I want a slice of that heaven!). Turning again to leave the kitchen, I see the fireplace against the far wall in the living room. There is a spinning wheel nearby with cleaned wool waiting to be spun in a basket in front of it. Maman’s chair sits fairly close to the wheel, though I am not sure when she would have had the time to sit…there is another basket by the chair, this one containing an almost completed pair of socks on knitting needles, with almost no yarn left, perhaps waiting for her to spin a bit more in order to finish the sock. Papa’s chair is directly in front of the fireplace… a man’s home is his castle, and of course the king should have the best place to sit… a big comfy chair, one that he can sink into after the hard labors of a typical farm day. A small wooden bench sits nearby, perhaps where the children sat…. a woven or braided rug lies on the floor. Now head upstairs to the sleeping quarters…rather tiny in comparison to the living area downstairs, but functional with a bed, a bureau, a chair, and perhaps a chest for clothing. At the foot of each bed lies a folded quilt, perhaps one the mistress of the house had stitched, made with whatever bits of fabric were available, including those from outgrown or torn clothing… a history if you will….Now I head back down the stairs, again going past the dour countenances lining the wall who almost seem to want to say ‘who are you that you can just walk through my house?’…past the fireplace and spinning wheel that not-so-strangely calls my name…and out the front door before turning back once more to see where I have been…..
Sadly, it is once again a depression in the ground, with moss-covered rocks lining the edge, and stillness in the wood around me…watching, waiting, listening, hoping that someday new life will be breathed into the walls that once stood there….I turn once again and head down the path that will take me out of the woods, promising myself that someday I will come back to this place, some day I will build a house and make a home where once another family called their’s…..what was once old is new again, they say….perhaps here too…..
And so I imagined…building up this place in my mind and making my own history to go with it. What must these walls have seen in their day? What joys and sadness, what comings and goings, how many seasons had they held it all within? Come with me, if you will, as we go up to the main house from the basement (which is what my imaginations decided this must have been). History says that many old farmhouses that were built on hillsides used the lower story, the ground floor as it were, as the barn area for their animals – protection for their animals from the ‘beasts of prey’ that roamed beyond its walls at night. And without knowing or understanding the science behind it, they used the body heat of their animals so that as the heat rose, the house above could benefit from it. And on this level, the main floor of the house, I stand in the middle of the floor and turn slowly in a circle to examine each corner and direction…I see the entryway to the stairwell, lined with dour-faced portraits of ancestors with their respective children looking equally as dour and stiff, as though upset at losing precious daylight hours of chore time in order to be ‘gussied up for pictures”, and of course all are wearing period clothing of their day….I see the big black corner of the kitchen range (wood-fired of course) peaking through another doorway…. This was the heart of the home in days past. Everyone congregated around the kitchen table to discuss the day’s events and happenings, to break bread together after a long day’s work in the fields, to visit with a neighbor and perhaps share a cup of tea…this was where you would find the matriarch of the clan holding court – this was her domain, and woe to the poor male who dared trod across its clean floor with barn-muddied boots! Here too, was the where the wonderful smells emanated from and permeated every inch of the house with their essence…the scent of warm bread baking and almost ready to eat, vying with the scent of fermenting yeast in a new batch of bread dough that had been set to rise…(yumm…now I want a slice of that heaven!). Turning again to leave the kitchen, I see the fireplace against the far wall in the living room. There is a spinning wheel nearby with cleaned wool waiting to be spun in a basket in front of it. Maman’s chair sits fairly close to the wheel, though I am not sure when she would have had the time to sit…there is another basket by the chair, this one containing an almost completed pair of socks on knitting needles, with almost no yarn left, perhaps waiting for her to spin a bit more in order to finish the sock. Papa’s chair is directly in front of the fireplace… a man’s home is his castle, and of course the king should have the best place to sit… a big comfy chair, one that he can sink into after the hard labors of a typical farm day. A small wooden bench sits nearby, perhaps where the children sat…. a woven or braided rug lies on the floor. Now head upstairs to the sleeping quarters…rather tiny in comparison to the living area downstairs, but functional with a bed, a bureau, a chair, and perhaps a chest for clothing. At the foot of each bed lies a folded quilt, perhaps one the mistress of the house had stitched, made with whatever bits of fabric were available, including those from outgrown or torn clothing… a history if you will….Now I head back down the stairs, again going past the dour countenances lining the wall who almost seem to want to say ‘who are you that you can just walk through my house?’…past the fireplace and spinning wheel that not-so-strangely calls my name…and out the front door before turning back once more to see where I have been…..
Sadly, it is once again a depression in the ground, with moss-covered rocks lining the edge, and stillness in the wood around me…watching, waiting, listening, hoping that someday new life will be breathed into the walls that once stood there….I turn once again and head down the path that will take me out of the woods, promising myself that someday I will come back to this place, some day I will build a house and make a home where once another family called their’s…..what was once old is new again, they say….perhaps here too…..
Sunday, February 28, 2010
..and on the fiber front....
Saturday was a bit of a long day, on the road to meet up with my sister for our annual fiber overload day at SPA Spin & Knit VIII -- lots to see, to touch, to discuss, and as my sister put it, it is not only expected but almost required that you stop someone going by you wearing that ___(fill in the blank)....and yes, we have been so stopped..lol. I had on the Magic-shawl I had gotten verbal directions on some years previously: garter stitch, CO 50 sts on large needles (?17 or 19), work until run out of yarn. Do NOT block hard at all....pull it along the length and have a supersoft squishy scarf to wrap around your neck; shake it out by holding the long side and it expands to a very open, airy dressy shawl perfect for nighttime event (I had used a mohair yarn, ~800 yard skein, one skein was all it needed). Had a lot of fun, one lady was so intrigued with my scarf/shawl that she kept sending other friends over to check it out. I probably spent way too much $ at this event, including some new fibers to spin (one of which had sparklies in it and will become another Magic)...for some reason, I was attracted to purples this year, not sure why they called my name but there you go, when a fiber speaks, you listen.
Drove back home after stopping in at a local bakery, When Pigs Fly....yumm! Headed home in a bit of a messy/slushy snowstorm, visibility a little iffy and people driving 10-15 mph LESS than the posted limit (?not from around here or used to driving in this). After a short time at home to re-pack my bag, we headed out to a college hockey game -- hubby drove this time. He works at this college in IT; the men's team won their last home game the week previous, gaining them a spot in the Playoffs, home field advantage for Quarterfinals (the previous 4 weekends we had also attended games, prime knitting time). What a game this was! Two entire periods of play with no goals, but numerous shots on goal Third period started much like the previous two had, the only difference being in that the roughness of play was called out on penalties much more frequently...oh, and a number of broken hockey sticks littered the ice. Shortly after the period began the opposing team scored, which our guys answered within minutes. We should have had another score but the ref's ruled it as Not because the entire puck had not crossed the line (we were sitting in the corner above the goal, so we and the entire student bleacher area directly behind the goal say it did, but it wasn't our call to make)...of course, the question remains, can we call a player in the net a goal ...lol ? Long story short, period ended with score tied 1/1, ruling made for 20-minute Sudden-Death Overtime. I continued to knit until a few minutes into this period where it just got to wild to pay attention to both handwork (even a simple rib pattern) and the game. Our guys scored the decisive game-ender at 4:57 left to play...can you say pandemonioum on ice? helmets flying, pigpile in center ice, cheers and horns....kind of what I expect to see on TV this afternoon when USA plays Canada in the Olympic finale...hmmm, more prime knitting time...sounds good to me!
Drove back home after stopping in at a local bakery, When Pigs Fly....yumm! Headed home in a bit of a messy/slushy snowstorm, visibility a little iffy and people driving 10-15 mph LESS than the posted limit (?not from around here or used to driving in this). After a short time at home to re-pack my bag, we headed out to a college hockey game -- hubby drove this time. He works at this college in IT; the men's team won their last home game the week previous, gaining them a spot in the Playoffs, home field advantage for Quarterfinals (the previous 4 weekends we had also attended games, prime knitting time). What a game this was! Two entire periods of play with no goals, but numerous shots on goal Third period started much like the previous two had, the only difference being in that the roughness of play was called out on penalties much more frequently...oh, and a number of broken hockey sticks littered the ice. Shortly after the period began the opposing team scored, which our guys answered within minutes. We should have had another score but the ref's ruled it as Not because the entire puck had not crossed the line (we were sitting in the corner above the goal, so we and the entire student bleacher area directly behind the goal say it did, but it wasn't our call to make)...of course, the question remains, can we call a player in the net a goal ...lol ? Long story short, period ended with score tied 1/1, ruling made for 20-minute Sudden-Death Overtime. I continued to knit until a few minutes into this period where it just got to wild to pay attention to both handwork (even a simple rib pattern) and the game. Our guys scored the decisive game-ender at 4:57 left to play...can you say pandemonioum on ice? helmets flying, pigpile in center ice, cheers and horns....kind of what I expect to see on TV this afternoon when USA plays Canada in the Olympic finale...hmmm, more prime knitting time...sounds good to me!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
things to make you think.....
..found this on my Einstein Quote of the Day:
Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts
Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
If Music be the food of Love, then Play On"
...or something to that effect from the Bard himself, good ole' Will Shakespeare.
This week's luck of the draw is musically inspired, choices were a rather eclectic mix (and this coming from an aficionado of New Age/Dance/Classical/Country/Celtic and ballads). Interesting choices all, but unless the music strikes that chord deep within it is usually passed over -- maybe that is something I should work on to 'extend" myself perhaps and go outside my usual spheres, but for this go round will go with what reached out to me...
..reached out with its rhythmic and resonating heartbeat, grabbed me and held me in place....talking about making a deal with God and swapping places...why does this resonate so strongly now? Is it because I have reached a crossroads where my faith which used to sustain me now feels so empty and unsatisfying? Have I come to that point in the road where Robert Frost says he is sorry he "..could not travel both.." and so he "..took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference."
Crossroads...now there's an interesting not-so-small thing....you come to a place where you feel the push/pull, ebb-and-flow within you and around you...you feel your heartbeat echoing in time to the rhythms of the earth beneath your feet, sitting quietly on that hillside transcends you to a place at onece here, but yet also on another plane of existence...you hear the grass grow and the rustling whisper of tree branches as they answer that heartbeat pulsing through the earth...the void fills, but not with silence as is first apparent, but with a roar and you rejoice in that roar because hearing it, and feeling it,... you live it, and the song plays on....
This week's luck of the draw is musically inspired, choices were a rather eclectic mix (and this coming from an aficionado of New Age/Dance/Classical/Country/Celtic and ballads). Interesting choices all, but unless the music strikes that chord deep within it is usually passed over -- maybe that is something I should work on to 'extend" myself perhaps and go outside my usual spheres, but for this go round will go with what reached out to me...
..reached out with its rhythmic and resonating heartbeat, grabbed me and held me in place....talking about making a deal with God and swapping places...why does this resonate so strongly now? Is it because I have reached a crossroads where my faith which used to sustain me now feels so empty and unsatisfying? Have I come to that point in the road where Robert Frost says he is sorry he "..could not travel both.." and so he "..took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference."
Crossroads...now there's an interesting not-so-small thing....you come to a place where you feel the push/pull, ebb-and-flow within you and around you...you feel your heartbeat echoing in time to the rhythms of the earth beneath your feet, sitting quietly on that hillside transcends you to a place at onece here, but yet also on another plane of existence...you hear the grass grow and the rustling whisper of tree branches as they answer that heartbeat pulsing through the earth...the void fills, but not with silence as is first apparent, but with a roar and you rejoice in that roar because hearing it, and feeling it,... you live it, and the song plays on....
Thursday, February 18, 2010
? new beginnings
...trying something new....signed on to a Ravelry group that has you writing something every week, weekly writers workshop! . The first week's theme is A New Beginning. We can be as direct or as generic or as outside-the-box as we please....Well, will try to keep up, though I may just write about the ones that "speak to me" ......
How appropriate that this morning's email from SP was a reflection on contemplating "...how much a smile can change a person's day..." Can I do that? of course I can, and so can you. All it takes is expending a few calories of energy to make your lip muscles curl up -- not such a hard thing to do at all. And, sometimes sending a smile someone's way helps take the edge off the unknown. Haven't you ever walked through a crowded mall and seen an adorable little cherub sleeping in his stroller as the mom tries to get some shopping done? the picture of innocence and serenity always brings a smile to my face....it seems to attract others attention who are so busy just being busy that they have to stop and see what lit up your face, and then they smile too.
So how does this relate to new beginnings? ...and still be able to tie it in with my needlework? Well, how many times do you start your day by logging into Ravelry to look at the new patterns or pictures others have posted of their ongoing projects in your mutual groups, some of which you will comment on? Doesn't the color and/or composition of some of them make you smile? Do you then go and post one of your own photos? ...and you know that someone did smile when they saw it because you find a comment that someone left for you....
So, my take on this is much like the marble game that chase each other around and around that adding another marble just continues the cycle of following the previous in the same pattern that seems to just spread out in an everwidening circle......So, start something, 'smile' at someone in actuality or in writing, and see what happens...
How appropriate that this morning's email from SP was a reflection on contemplating "...how much a smile can change a person's day..." Can I do that? of course I can, and so can you. All it takes is expending a few calories of energy to make your lip muscles curl up -- not such a hard thing to do at all. And, sometimes sending a smile someone's way helps take the edge off the unknown. Haven't you ever walked through a crowded mall and seen an adorable little cherub sleeping in his stroller as the mom tries to get some shopping done? the picture of innocence and serenity always brings a smile to my face....it seems to attract others attention who are so busy just being busy that they have to stop and see what lit up your face, and then they smile too.
So how does this relate to new beginnings? ...and still be able to tie it in with my needlework? Well, how many times do you start your day by logging into Ravelry to look at the new patterns or pictures others have posted of their ongoing projects in your mutual groups, some of which you will comment on? Doesn't the color and/or composition of some of them make you smile? Do you then go and post one of your own photos? ...and you know that someone did smile when they saw it because you find a comment that someone left for you....
So, my take on this is much like the marble game that chase each other around and around that adding another marble just continues the cycle of following the previous in the same pattern that seems to just spread out in an everwidening circle......So, start something, 'smile' at someone in actuality or in writing, and see what happens...
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
..time flies
...or at least that's the theory anyway. Amazing how much time has gone by, starting to feel like I's time-travelling (a-la Dr Who, could be 10 minutes/could be 10 weeks). December, and the temps have started plummetting in the past week at night, down to the 20s the past few days with predicted in the single digits this weekend...B-r-r-r....all this spun wool and no time to knit it into some warm socks.....need to get busy on that, as well as on completing the Christmas pressies all in various stages of completion...... --
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