And again with the camera

Thank you all very much for the NY help. We are going to go to TKTS, and at coffee Tuesday Gail suggested these lovely red bus tours and I think we're going to do that, too. Mr. W. is going to take Friday off so we'll be in NY much earlier than I'd planned. That means we get a whole extra half a day on the ground, so to speak. I am getting excited, even though my favorite lizard pointed out that it's going to be mighty warm in Manhattan this weekend. I am determined to not let it ruin my weekend.
Today I sorted yarn into piles for the new book - "Definitely. maybe. not sure yet. definite maybe. possibly. I just don't know. I HAVE to have that." I think it went something like that. I need more warm colors, I think. My 'process' is jumbled and scares people. At this point, nothing is organized, everything is serendipity, loose, uncontrolled. Anyway, that was fun and occupied a great deal of my time actually. But I am not showing you yet. I am kind of protective of the whole process at this point, which is why you get mushrooms and trees and stuff. Come January I'll share some. For now, mushrooms and trees, babies and occasional non-book knitting. The good news, I suppose, is that if you like reading about knitting stuff and non-knitting stuff while looking at pictures of hawks, babies, mushrooms and trees, this is totally your blog! I may start photographing other people's knitting just so you've got some to stare at. Example - I am writing a pattern that I am submitting to a Major Online E-Zine (go ahead, guess.) and it clearly states in the guidelines that the item submitted can't have appeared anywhere before. So, I can't show you that. Then Flow, which is just a pile of Seduce with no shaping yet. So you don't want to see that.
My day goes like this - I work randomly (today was yarn-sort and contemplate. Tomorrow may be something completely other, like draft something with which to torment a sample knitter)
Then I go for a yard-ramble, and I find things in bloom or fledging, and you get stuff like this:


Back inside, I knit for a while, or write, or plan something. Sometimes I have company (and sometimes the company is not so happy, because they are teething...):

So I alternate making unhappy guests smile again and pretending to work until other people come along to do some of that for me:

Next it's probably supper time, pictures of which would be pretty lame, especially last night. After supper I generally sit and knit, usually on something fun, but sometimes I go for woodland quests for more mushrooms:


You know, there is more to life than knitting. (right. sure there is.)

Egg on my face,

spinach in my teeth, toilet paper on my heel, sixth grade best friend told that boy I thought he was cute AND showed him the note, bailing kids out of jail, feminine hygiene accidents...all pretty embarrassing, right? Yeah. Well try this - you're home on a Sunday enjoying a conversation with your stepmother and father, husband and kid. A nice relaxing family afternoon, sitting around and chatting, when the phone rings. You hear your kid so "Uh, no....she's here. I don't THINK she does..."

She turns to you and says "Do you have a class today?"

No. No I do not have a class today. I checked my date book. There's nothing in it for this weekend. What IS the child on about? You move to take the phone but it's disconnected. Still grumbling, you grab your date book and check, just to verify that you are, of course, right. But you're not. You're wrong. DEAD WRONG. You have a class, from 1-4, Beginning Lace. And it's 1:15. And you are a half hour from Webs. And you've been in the garden most of the morning, so you're in stinky t-shirt, dirty shorts and dirt-caked bare feet and unshaven legs.

What do you do (besides turn the air blue, I got that one right off the bat)?

Well, did you know that you can go 80 MPH and not get stopped as long as you stay behind the person from Connecticut who's obviously also late for a knitting class (and is the teacher)? Did you know that knitters are very forgiving (even of unshaven legs and dirty shirts), warm, wonderful people who, when you finally arrive 45 minutes late and breathless, smile up at you and say "Oh, it was great. Barb let us in and we sat and talked and knitted and looked at yarn!" Seriously. They did not flog me, shoot me, or demand money back. They did not howl, threaten, or get angry. They sat, in the dark and quiet coolness of Webs on a Sunday, got to know each other and knitted up a storm. I love knitters.

And um, customer service, when you get in this morning and there's a crazed, incoherent message from me, something about a class and students, and "sorry"? Uh...I also didn't realize it was Sunday until I got to Hatfield. So just erase that, please, just forget all about it. I wish I could. Really, I need someone to promise me that the brain does grow back. Really. If this is not temporary, there'd better be a pill for it.

Advice please: if you were going to New York and had only two days, and only could convince your traveling partner to hit one yarn shop, which would it be? And, since Wicked is like $300 a ticket or something equally staggering, what show would you see? Or is there a way to get cheaper last-minute tickets? I cannot believe I convinced him to go, we're days from going, and I am totally unprepared, unplanned, unfocused. Seriously. If this is menopause, you can have it. Give me the estrogen. Sign me up. "Fuzzy thinking"?? This makes postpartum brain death look like a cake walk.

Still obsessed with the camera, but getting better about controlling the urge. I have a particular fascination with mushrooms and there's a lot of them around. Also the garden, which is lush and lovely right now, except where the woodchuck got it. Mr. W. put up a fence this weekend. He seems to not want to kill the woodland creature. I, of course, have no such scruples and would gleefully whack him, if only he'd come out when I am out. I think he knows who to run from. The young hawks are spending more and more time sitting around the nest on branches. They're still quiet silent. They should fledge at about one month old, but we don't know when they actually hatched. I'd say we're darned close. I know some hawk species teach their kids to hunt and forage before they're fully independent. I don't know what these guys will do. We watch and wait. I think it would be nice if they'd hang out for a while. Yesterday when I was letting the chickens into their yard (since running in mine now carries the added danger of a nest of young hawks eager to learn to feed themselves) I noticed a big hole in the aviary netting. I am hopeful that it wasn't my aviary netting that resulted in Mom-hawk's damaged leg. They don't usually go after chickens unless they're very hungry or very young and inexperienced. Chickens are too big to cart off. Snakes, chipmunks, moles, mice that sort of this are preferred.

BarkGarden
Hawks around nest (there's 3, look close)
Mushroom Problem

Good thing it's my blog...

and I can do whatever I want! HAH!!

BedheadFungus
Plush
Stump
Mushrooms
Hen (Ameraucana)and, finally, Chicks:

Somebody Stop Me...

Really. I may need a 12-step program. (Tammy - still on auto, or outdoor. I am still, at this point, doing nothing but point, focus, shoot.)
Bug Catchers - later in the day they turned into garden-eaters. We need a fence.Hawk - click on this, and look closely at her left foot. She's doing this with one leg really out of commission, and there's 3 babies in that nest. No clue how she's getting it done. I am in awe of the determination of instinct.
Not a honeybee, but a bumble, says Girl.Bee Balm, because it's there.Mr. Wonderful's new best friend (NOT!).I promise that's it. Next time there will be knitting. Promise. Really really promise...I am so excited and cannot stop shooting things. I love the Nikon D40, the entry-level DSLR of my dreams.

Brought to you by eBay

This was the objective of al that yarn selling - a new camera so I could take pictures of hawks. Click on them to make them bigger. OK, really it wasn't about the hawks, it was about taking pictures of garments and stuff, but I have to play for a while. First pictures were of the hawks when I saw Momma catch herself some breakfast in the yard. She was off and gone, but the babies were not.I know, I know, not great pictures, eh? But give me time. There's some learning DVD's and stuff, and before you know it I'll be snapping awesome pictures...by which point the hawks will be grown up and gone.
Next up - baby chickens!! (or maybe pictures of grass, I haven't decided yet...) I know. I could take pictures of the chicken poop on the floor of my office (sigh). Where chicken poop does not belong. Just. Ever. Speaking of which, this whole taking pictures of hawks things has totally distracted me from what I was doing, namely cleaning out my office of residual baby chicken foof, fluff, poop and dust. I moved them into the brooder house, and gave them a nanny. More on that later. Wait till you see the nanny.

Low Maintenance Woman

Mr. Wonderful is a lucky man. First, I was willing to wait for years before getting legally married - although I have to say that my views on the involvement of government in marriage are a little biased against, so it wasn't that much of a hardship, but still. I mean, we knew we were married from the get-go. We just neglected to inform the government, pay a fee, and stand in front of a complete stranger and say words out loud. But I did want the party, and the ring. Second, I shop at the Salvation Army whenever possible. Third, I will relentlessly pursue a deal on a vacation, or a car, or what have you. Fourth, his lunch is made nearly every morning and neatly packed into his lunch box. Coffee is generally on tap as well. Fifth, I do not ask for flowers, tokens or jewelery (well, not with any regularity. I did ask for more diamonds last year, but twice in 17 years and the second time as a celebration for writing a blessed book is, IMO, not very often). If you are broke long enough, it becomes a force of habit to recycle baggies and tin foil, and slap the hands of people reaching for paper towels when there's a drawer full of rags. This is not to say I am without cost - I have a cell phone, and I did demand satellite internet and a car that shifted when I told it to. However, taken as a whole I am cheap as heck and darn proud of it. It helps that I spent the majority of my childhood surrounded by Depression-era women and most of my adult life living hand to mouth, or worse. I think he must know how lucky he is, because Monday he came home with a present for me, something he knew I coveted deeply, the ultimate gift for the woman who beats her former type A self into submission on a regular basis yet dreams of a spotless house and cupboards that rival those in "Sleeping With the Enemy". A LABELER OF MY VERY OWN!!!I made a label. This was the first. And I think there is a gesture under that hat (he hates being photographed) but we'll ignore it because we are SO happy to be able to LABEL EVERYTHING!! I made more after this, but I won't force you to sit through a series of images of labels announcing things like "CAT", "DOG", "BIKE", "CHAIR", etc. Now that the (stinking, gross, 88% humidity, only a lizard could love this) weather has relaxed it's grip, I can spend the weekend labeling everything in my kitchen. I cannot wait. Can-Not-Wait!!
I sat in the basement and waited for the heat to go away, and worked on this while I did so. See, I can't tell you what it is yet. But soon. Very soon. Just, trust me...it's so awesome! I am going to start Flow for myself today, hopefully completed before Mr. W. and I go to NY.
Oh. Girl is officially going away to college in the fall. This is a good thing, but a sudden decision, so we're all adapting. We'll make it work. We're not sure exactly how yet, but we're going to make it work. She's gonna be awesome!
I broke a toe yesterday. It was...interesting. Boo got up and came over for love, and I was petting him and walking at the same time (in a bit of a rush, really, heading for the sandbox), and he was blocking this large base on a partition in the basement. I felt it hit, baby toe, left foot. I heard a craaack. So did he, and he jumped. So now I have a 100+lb nervous dog between me and the bathroom, in a fairly tight space. And if I freak him out by, say, screaming, it is likely that he'll step on the toe, or the other foot, or something that will likely result in my being hurt more, or might just scare the daylights out of him, which is never a good thing. So I reverted to Mommy form, calmly spewing monologue, "Well. That is pretty painful, if I do say so myself. Yes, indeed. So, Boo, can you move, so momma can get by you? Because, you know, momma's pretty sure she's about to howl and you're going to be pretty scared if you don't move sweetie..." There may have been swearing in there. Yeah, probably swearing. Within an hour or so it was all puffy and gross. Today it's less gross. I'll tape it to it's next neighbor and move on. Baby toe, phew. Could have been much worse.
Chicken news - I ordered a dozen eggs from eBay (who knew???). I got 6 Welsummers and 6 Auracanas. If this works out, we'll order more of a larger breed in the spring; I am hoping for Delawares which are one of my favorite breeds. Or I'll just order chicks. The plan is to expand the chicken outfit and have two houses; one for layers, one for dual purpose birds (that means meat for those of you who are not in the know - the squeamish may make faces now).
The brown are the Welsummers, the blue are true Auracanas, not the Ameraucanas we've got now. Auracanas are adorable, true tufted, rumpless birds with big mustaches. They lay blue. The Welsummers lay a rich terracotta colored egg. I put them under Eleanor and put another dozen in an incubator that Girl bought me (I love these people. Perfect gifts for mom: labeler and incubator). After about 36 hours of faithful egg-sitting, Eleanor looked around her, tipped her chicken-head and said "Hey. Wait a minute. Didn't I just Do this?? This is DUMB. I don't want to SIT here for three more stinking weeks. Hatch your OWN eggs, lady!!"So now we're got an overstuffed (not really, but it feels it) incubator in my office, right next to:
five old babies. Ancient!! SMELLY!! Soon to be moved outside to a brooder house with a heat lamp and more space!! Note: four heads are carried fairly low. One head is up above the rest, looking intently at the camera. File this under "How to tell hens from roosters". Also - um - the girls are all starting to get odd little puffs on top of their heads. This is not bad in and of itself. It does mean their father is probably Bedhead. And it means they may have...uh...bedheads. Hope that's ok with Mr. and Mrs. Betsy. Especially since they're not pure-breds? This may be the most bizarre looking group of hens ever. You can still change your minds, and see what comes from the next hatch. But I say, go big or go home. Who wants normal looking hens when you can have something truly spectacular?? The talk of the neighborhood! And Polish lay like banshees, as a rule. Eccentric is totally the new cool. Right...?

Hawks, Chickens, and maybe knitting...

Katy asked how the hawk was, and did she hatch her eggs. We were not sure, although Mr. Wonderful had been watching the nest and occasionally incurring the wrath of momma hawk when he tried to chop wood - the wood pile is right under the nest tree. Last week he brought in a pale blue egg with tan spots, but really that could be one of my own eggshells stolen from compost by a scavenger. Well, finally, we have evidence.
Baby hawk noggin. Now, here's the cool part - we think there's three of them. This guy is all about making his presence known, and had no compunction about hopping right to the edge and staring down at Mr. W's curious camera wielding head. I assume he's planning for the day when he can fledge right onto that human and teach him a lesson. His mother, I bet, would have other feelings about his forward behavior.
Girl and I hit the local farmer's market this morning. We got fresh garlic and garlic scapes, beets and beet greens, kale and some tarragon and basil. My basil does not look so hot and my tarragon got eaten. Speaking of eaten. Something cleaned out my garden. Not everything, but enough that he or she has to go, whatever he or she may be. Ate the tops of the brussels sprouts, made headway in cabbage damage, and ate the tops off the green bean plants. I am not happy. Whoever he is, he's going down.
For Mister Betsy - more ch*ck shots -
Although attached a bit to Tutta-Two, Girl has accepted that it would be kind to share Momma Tut's love with the world. So, if the little white ch*ck is a girl, she can go and live with Mr. and Mrs. Betsy, as long as they fully appreciate the amazing-ness of this particular chicken. Tut the first has been incredible, totally a pet, sits on one's lap, etc. Tutta-Two seems headed in the same direction. She enjoys sitting on hands, quietly. When we check them she's the first to run to the side and asks to be removed from those creatures we've left her with (as if she were one of them?).
I have been knitting. Furiously, really, on one of these projects. I can't tell you what it is yet though. It's This One.The yarn is Sterling, hand dyed by Gail Callahan, and available in her Etsy shop. It's very lovely, really - color and sparkle in one! Oh, and she's apparently having some kind of summer sale on selected items...I'd check that out.
And then there is This Other One, which I also can't tell you about.But I can tell you that this new Berroco yarn, Pure Merino DK? Lovin' it, thank you Cirilia Rose, yarn genius.
Back to the grind. Or, really, since it's a holiday weekend, back to slacking and knitting anything I want that's not work.
eBay auctions ending soon - totally a bummer that a lot of the sock grab-bags don't have a bid. We're talking awesome deals, here. That and...what do I do with it if it doesn't sell?! I...I had not thought about that...!
Is this me??