Tuesday, April 5, 2016



Sunny and snowy, and cold, cold, cold. I hear the songbirds twittering away, confused. I want to sit beside an open window and walk barefoot in the mossy grass, but I think it's going to be awhile, because this is New York, and even when our season is a blessedly mild one, winter is long, and it is not over just because April is here. We are over it now, though, and we say sarcastic things at the dump and at the bank about payback and not quite true things about comparable snow quantities and we wear our sweaters (okay, there's the silver lining) and we carry around hot coffee just to keep our hands warm (I just discovered the Flat White, ohmygoodness, life-changing) and watch the icicles fail to melt. Catdog just stands there, one foot poised above the ice, looking and sniffing at the middle distance. Telegraphing confusion and wrinkling her forehead, which is how she expresses her extreme annoyance. A wrinkled brow. Serious. She is not into this weather anymore. I can't get her to sit for a polite greeting--she won't put her backside down into the snow, and I can't say I blame her.

But Doc painted the kitchen, and he very cleverly made me a lampshade out of a pillar candle holder we found at Target, and I am so happy to sit here in this clean and orderly room, in a little pool of deceptive sunshine, looking out at the garden, at the squabbling birds and animal tracks, and at the brave and burgeoning daffodils. They are under there somewhere, I know it.

I'm so absorbed by the new project, the stranded knitting in an assortment of yarn colors I have come to realize are strange choices. That mustard-ish yellow is a color that comes up for me a lot and has found its way into many of my projects--I know it looks a lot like baby poo, but I am inexplicably drawn to it. Hand-dyed brownish-pinks, khakis, muddy things. Ish colors. Muted. Those are the ones I like. I have been very uncharacteristically monogamous with this project, even though it has become large and unwieldy, with it's many different little balls of color, all of which want to roll away from me all the time. I am designing as I go, measuring myself and measuring the work and hoping for the best, and totally winging it at every turn. I'm trying to write down what I did, and I'm thinking about working this one up again when I'm done, in another colorway, because choosing a palette is so much fun, and because it would also be fun to know if I could. Can I follow my own tracks? I don't know, let's find out!