Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Brave Helius

Since we moved here I've missed this one little thing. This one thing that you don't realize is so important until it is gone. It is called "sunlight". There's a zillion of these things called "trees" blocking every scrap of light from house and lawn and yard. It's generally dark and dingy in here.
Today things are changing. It started early. But I was ok with that. I still am ok with that. I am getting nothing done. I tried, truly I did. But literally trees were falling 15 feet behind my work space. And still are. In fact, I am a bit edgy now with my back to the window. I am glad for this day! Sun, sun, glorious sun! I am not, by nature, a sun-worshipper. You'll generally find me hiding in my basement during the worst of summer, with the dehumidifier on and a glass of ice water. But I have my limits. And when the solar estimate guy came and laughed at us, it was time to make some changes.There will be more pictures tomorrow, when it's all done and over. For now I am moving away from this window (yes, literally, ten feet behind me, there's a cherry picker and a lot of noise and I am a bit nervous when the strays hit the deck)
Oh, knitting. SOCKS! Two for the book. The very warm and cozy cables are Louet Gems Sport, and the pur...something just hit the side of my house. AAK! The purple ones are Franklin, colorway Twilight, NEW from Valley Yarns, and worthy of a look (and a feel, and a buy, and a knit, and a wear!!) and . . . It's not the noise. It's not the falling trees. It's the unexpected CHUNK and WHACK of stuff bouncing off my house that's going to be the death of me today. Franklin is a beautiful new sock yarn, hand dyed by Gail Callahan for Valley Yarns. It comes in a range of edible, squishable, lovable colorways and...mental note: keep all trees well away from house structure in future to avoid mental torment of stuff flinging onto and off of and into house and deck. Wise-as..butts. Laughing and yelling "Timmmmmberrrrr" when stuff is already on the ground, then laughing more. They're like little boys. It's a whole group of six little boys out there with chain-saws and a cherry picker playing lumberjack! You should hear them. It's testosterone-ville. Hysterically funny. Makes me think of when the boys were little and cute...yeah, yeah, socks...see my problem? I can't focus. There's all this yelling and trees falling and engines and chain saws and 40-odd trees meeting their Maker. Maintenance. Maintenance, maintenance, maintenance. And for home-owners, this means tree cutting. I think there's been nothing cut here in 25 years. A tree grows a lot in 25 years. It eventually shades the house and the deck, and then mold grows on the shakes, and the solar guy laughs at you, and eventually steps must be taken. And I'm ok with that. I am ok with the end result. AAKKKK!! SAVE MEEEEEE!!! I have never been so jealous of Girl and Mr Wonderful as I am today. They can leave. I wish I could leave till it was all over, and return to a pile of brush and a clear view. Seriously though, it's amazing now to get up and look out there, after only a couple of hours, and see sun shining, hitting places it hasn't hit in 25 years (like, oh, the ROOF) and realize that in a few more hours there'll be enough space for a garden, with food, and a sunny spot on the deck for reclining... COOL!
In the mean time, wish me luck, and sanity, and protection from chunks of tree bouncing off my house! The hard hats are off. The boss just left. Pray for me.

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