But I can think of nothing to say. So we'll do one of those posts with images and brief bits. I am working on a third book, celebrating the launch of the second, and generally over my head busy lately.
We did fit in a day in Maine.We saw lobster boats, lobster men, and lobster pots. The only lobsters we saw were red and on plates with butter, bibs and wetnaps. There is a great spot in Ogunquit called Perkins Cove, home of Barnacle Billy's. It was lovely. Placed our order, retreated to the deck, and waited for our tasty pal. I am not enamored of lobster having eaten entirely too much of it as a kid. But it's nice once in a while. Gene sits and waits like a kid for his meat to be cut while I make quick work of the shell. I still remember the first time he ever ordered one. He had no idea what to do with it. I think now he could get to the meat if he had to, but if your wife is going to have it all out for you in a minute or two, why bother? Also, if my mother knew that I now eat the bits she always yelled at me about not touching, she'd die. My dad made a face when I said I had become a bit of a tomalley fan. I also used to sneak the roe when no one was looking. My parents were very inland folk.I love climbing on rocks and taking pictures of objects. Like shells.Or damaged lobster pots mimicking cresting waves.
I ordered some yarn last week. Great segue, I know. I am not feeling subtle today. It is Monday after all!This is painfully yummy Black Bunny Fibers Stella Sock, and everyone should have some not just because I am all about the sparkle. I have plans for this yarn. More will be revealed.
This weekend I burned a pan to a crisp while attempting to make chicken wings for friends.The kitchen failures have become a bit of a trend. I am slipping. Apparently cooking is not like riding a bike. Speaking of bikes, in my defense, Gene had called me downstairs to try a modification on my bike trainer and I got distracted. Never leave sugar unattended where heat is involved. I know better. But I am a slow learner.
We went for a hike above our house.We live very close to a Vermont state forest, and the land up at the end of our road is quite secluded. If you leave my house and walk two and a half or so miles you will be in Vermont. We saw the prints of our moose friend. He or she is around seasonally. The attraction being both privacy and...
beavers. Who have made a series of three dams, and are working hard at turning the area into a lake. Moose like lakes. Given sufficient time, the beavers will be successful. The topography lends itself. Eventually, left to their own devices, another three or four acres could easily go underwater. Of course then if their dams fail many bad things will happen, like some pretty significant flooding of some recently created wood roads. But then isn't that the nature of the planet? Constant change? Change is good. I am rooting for the beavers, which is unusual for me. They're generally kind of a nuisance. But they were here first.
When we came back from our walk we found that the chickens had gone across the road and into the pasture. Far into it, almost into the woods.This is them returning home after I called them. I leave home for an hour, they head into the brush. Trouble's name is chicken!
More soon, with some actual knitting. Right now we're all about the writing. There's a couple of projects on the needles. Yarn soon, promise!