It’s drizzly here today. I don’t mind these rainy, gloomy days, as long as they are interspersed with sunshine-y, blossomy, birdsong ones, and they are. The fading pink petals of the crabapple tree against the moody sky are so beautiful. They glow like a neon sign: This is Spring! As long as it isn’t snowing anymore [please, no] I am willing to pull a wool sweater on over a fresh sunburn. Yesterday was sort of a wash because I spent the whole of it maniacally focused on a project that has since failed and been ditched, but of course I —as I always do—learned a thing or two in the process, so it was okay. The problem was [this again?] value and contrast. I swear. Anyway, knitting is fun, so I don’t mind. So that was a long afternoon in the sunshine, getting a little bit fried because I didn’t realize how much time had passed and that one arm was not underneath the umbrella. There’s one downside to taking a deep creative dive. Also, Catdog, who spends 99% of her life inert and asleep, stood up and surprised me by bolting into the underbrush. Friends, this dog lives to relax. I have seen her watch a chipmunk run underneath her nose without even flickering an ear. She had her annual burst of energy yesterday, though, and I chased her in my flip flops all over the neighborhood, dress flapping, through freshly-tilled gardens and behind other people’s garages, calling and cajoling and basically being ignored, and when I finally caught up with her, she was wild-eyed and covered in creek mud, and she looked like she’d discovered something brand new. Wait, there’s more to life than napping? She’s still a catdog, though, because five minutes of running flat out was her limit, and, freshly dried and sweet-smelling after a warm bath, she coiled up under her down comforter, with nothing but her nose peeking out, and fell soundly asleep, a little mouse in a feathered nest.
After all that, I’m a little glad it’s raining today. It seems like a good day to wear a new pair of warm socks. The pattern is here.