Ten Years Later

"The spirit of man is an inward flame; a lamp the world blows upon but never puts out."

- Margot Asquith

Most of us can vividly and painfully remember Sept. 11, 2001. Where were we? What were we doing? Who were we with when news of the devastating terrorist attacks reached us?

It was a bewildering and incredible sequence of events. Nineteen men boarded four airplanes and turned them into lethal weapons of hatred and destruction. We saw the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center crumble to dust as two planes penetrated them like spears. In an open field near Shanksville, Penn., another plane crashed, and a fourth dove into the Pentagon. In all, 2,973 people died and 24 are still listed as "missing."

The losses and the grief affected people of many faiths and ethnic origins. It cut across socio-economic and cultural differences. It impressed upon us the significance of the values of freedom and democracy we hold dear and it confronted us with the need to respond to this challenge with justice and prudence as we protected the nation's security and safety.

Much has happened in America and the world since Sept. 11, 2001. Our lives have not been the same. Getting on an airplane is no longer pleasant. Going into a public building or to a large gathering often requires that we be searched. We have become more suspicious. Thousands of Americans have died in the unfolding wars and conflicts that have engaged our nation. The world remains in a continuous nervous state of alert.

Politics and the economy have not been immune to the effects of 9/11. Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden are gone. Hosni Mubarak and Moammar Gadhafi are ousted. The Middle East is in upheaval. Peace seems elusive.

Many prayer services and memorials will take place to remember the events of 9/11 and honor the memories of those who died and the heroic efforts of many citizens 10 years ago. I offer this meditation as we observe the 10th anniversary of 9/11:

• Let us remember those who died as victims of terror, each of them an image of God, a universe of hopes;
• Let us recall with gratitude, the heroism and courage of the first responders;
• Let us remember the compassion and altruism of ordinary citizens who turned to help both strangers and friends;
• Let us bring gifts of faith, justice and mercy to all who yearn for comfort and renewal;
• Let us reject prejudice and violence against those who believe differently, dress differently and speak differently;
• Let us combat stereotypes and refuse to speak or accept words of hatred and acts of intolerance;
• Let us build bridges of civil conversation in order to create a just and caring society for all;
• Let us rekindle hope and trust and let us dream of and labor for a time of understanding, harmony and solidarity;
• Let us strengthen the hands of those who defend and the hearts of those who labor for peace;
• Let us renew our commitment to the values of democracy, "to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" for all.

Dennis Sasso is senior rabbi at Congregation Beth-El Zedeck in Indianapolis.

Strong Craft

History repeats itself, but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.
- Joseph Conrad

I'm quite sure that all true professional artists, of every description, in all walks of life, whether their craft is painting, music, sculpture, medicine or anything, have one primary concern - mankind.
- Chico Hamilton

Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.
- Mother Teresa

You may have seen this editorial in the Huffington Post. It has caused quite an uproar in the internet community.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/peg-aloi/tough-gals-do-they-still-_b_924507.html

My response:

“I am proud to be a knitter. My grandmothe­r won prizes; my mother ran a needlework store. My ancestors smile at me from heaven as I honor a time when women provided for their loved ones in the only ways open to them - by feeding, clothing, & comforting them. I design knitting patterns for strong women who choose to spend their leisure time working with their hands & hearts. This is both meaningful and worthwhile­. Knitting paid for my children's college tuition & puts food on our table. That is an outcome of which any suffragett­e would be proud. Many are drawn in this age of hands off technology and virtual entertainm­ent to the simpler, more tactile, & personal ways of satisfying our creative urges. Would you so malign a man who was involved with woodworkin­g? Is he "perpetuat­ing male stereotype­s"? Clearly the writer has not spent any time investigat­ing the many alternativ­e patterns for skull caps, corsets, and the like. You can be a knitter and be as "strong" or "girly" as you like. The desire to work with our hands can be satisfied in a multitude of ways: some with skulls & crossbones­, & some with ethereal lace. People who knit do so not out of some misguided desire to return to "women's" work or more repressive times. They knit because they are part of a community that values love, craftsmans­hip, beauty, art, and sustainabi­lity. They knit because they can. They knit because they care."

Only Love

"Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him. "

"I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that"

_Martin Luther King, Jr.

I cannot say it better, so I will not try...

Thank You Notes

"It isn't what you have in your pocket that makes you thankful, but what you have in your heart."

-Author Unknown

We are heading into thanksgiving week. And I will soon be heading north to spend it with my father & step-mother in Michigan. It will be the first time we have had thanksgiving together in 20 some years. Now THAT is something to be thankful for.

When I was a kid, my mom made me write thank you notes. (Didn't everybody's?) And I hated it. I know...I'm a bad person.

I was very appreciative and grateful for what I received. That was not the problem.

It just felt so stilted and formulaic, as I wrote the feelings down on paper. Even today, I much prefer a phone call or, best of all, an in-person hug.

So sometimes I forget to thank the people without whom I would not be here, doing what I do. I am thankful every cotton pickin' day, that all of you are part of my life.

• my wonderful test knitters, especially Tami, who just completed testing Galadriel's Mirror: a quite complex set of written directions. They donate their precious knitting time to ferret out all the little whoopsies in my pattern directions
• my fabulous proofreader Elizabeth, who picks the finished product apart and finds all the typos, except fro for (see what I mean?) when I misread her corrections - sigh...
• my family, who eats out a lot more than they should because Mom/Grandma has been playing working
• my friends, who listen to my flights of fancy & pretend that knitting is the most fascinating topic in the world
• the independent dyers who provide me with so much beautiful inspiration, especially Laura & Kelly of Unique Sheep
• the retailers who carry my patterns and allow me the privilege of teaching in their shops
• the moderators of the KALs on Rav - the best peeps ever
• my buddies on plurk who share my joys & sorrows, never judging, always helpful & quick with a hug or an encouraging word when needed.
• Casey & Jess, because without the wonderful public forum that is Ravelry, I doubt I would be in business
• Al Gore, for inventing the Internet (snork!)
• the knitters who buy my patterns. without you, there would be no Sunflower Designs
  

And most of all, my wonderful husband, who critiques my designs, tweaks my computer, listens to my kvetching, cuts me slack when the dishes aren't done, and loves me always.

I love my job. It is a blessing.

And I could NOT do it alone.

Thank you...

Holy as My Day Was Spent

Holy is the dish and drain
The soap and sink, the cup and plate
And the warm wool socks, and the cold white tile
Showerheads and good dry towels
And frying eggs sound like psalms
With a bit of salt measured in my palm
It’s all a part of a sacrament
As holy as a day is spent

Holy is the busy street
And cars that boom with passion’s beat
And the check out girl, Counting change
And the hands that shook my hands today
Hymns of geese fly overhead
And stretch their wings like their parents did
Blessed be the dog
That runs in her sleep
The catch that wild and elusive thing

Holy is a familiar room and the quiet moments in the afternoon
And folding sheets like folding hands
To pray as only laundry can
I’m letting go of all I fear
Like autumn leaves of earth and air
For summer came and summer went
As holy as a day is spent

Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
The empty page, the open book
Redemption everywhere I look
Unknowingly we slow our pace
In the shade of unexpected grace
With grateful smiles and sad lament
As holy as a day is spent

And morning light sings “providence”
As holy as a day is spent

-Holy As A Day Is Spent
by Carrie Newcomer

This is one of my favorite songs. I was reminded of it this afternoon while toiling over the written directions for Galadrial's Mirror (and I do mean toil - you try writing 179 lines of code - yeesh!)


I was listening to Pandora internet radio while I worked and this song came up in my mix.

I first met Carrie when I was a student at Earlham School of Religion. She is a delightful individual with a very important message and a strong commitment to living her life with a great deal of personal integrity.

She is also a damn fine musician.

All too often we go about our daily business as if it bears no weight. We believe that our actions don't really matter, unless we are doing something out of the ordinary. We get up, we eat breakfast, we go to work, raise our kids, listen to our friends, make our houses into homes. We knit, or spin, or weave, or crochet.

And we forget that what we do matters.

It matters a great deal.

Every one of those things...every one of US...

is holy.

What a lovely message to receive on a stormy Thursday afternoon spent immersed in the minutia of long lines of detailed instruction.

So...

How was your day spent?

I'm a Slacker

Who ever is out of patience is out of possession of their soul.
- Francis Bacon

Thank you for the messages of support. They are wonderfully kind and dear to me.

I want to re-emphasize that the problem is not one of unhappy customers. Unhappy customers are part of business.

It is not a matter of self-image. I may have experienced a very dark day of the soul, but it was largely due to a chemical imbalance and a pharmacy mistake, rather than crippling self doubt.

And the problem is not a crisis of confidence in my design capabilities. In fact, it is not connected with knitting in any way.

And that was sort of my point. Not everything is public. Not everything is on the surface. Not everything is spilled out on line.

It is easy to make "friends" these days. We can push a button and send a request. We can just as easily push another button and withdraw that friendship.

We forget how long it takes to truly know someone; to become the best of friends.

We think we know people because we have read their blog, or purchased their yarn, or chatted them up on Facebook or Ravelry.

But we don't. Not really.

I am not saying you cannot have an online relationship. I have met many wonderful people on line and some of them are you.

But I am often surprised when I finally see a picture or meet someone in person whom I have known on line. They are taller, shorter, fatter, thinner, younger, older, louder, quieter, funnier, shyer, etc. etc. etc...

than I had pictured them in my imagination.

It is much like the casting process for a movie based upon a beloved book. We think, "OH NO! That person is totally wrong for the part."

We do not know the entirety of their existence. We do not know their hopes & dreams & fears. We do not know their families.

We do not know what is going on in people's private lives. Only their public ones.

And since that is the case, we need to cultivate patience. We need to plant it in our souls, water it with the milk of human kindness, and allow it to blossom in our collective communities.

We need to cut ourselves and each other a little slack.

Let's assume the other person is NOT an asshole.

Let's consider what we know versus what we are presuming, before we touch the keys of the laptop.

Let's try to work things out, before filing a complaint.

Let's really listen with our hearts to try and catch the subtext of what people are really feeling.

Let's give each other the benefit of the doubt.

Let's try to help one another.

Let's be slow to anger and fast to care.

Let's replace the culture of "me first" with the reality that we are all in this together.

Let's yield to and merge with oncoming human traffic, instead of pushing our way to the front of the line.

Let's slow down and step back and take a deep breath.

Let's reclaim civility and graciousness for our times.

Let's stop being mad as hell and not willing to take any more.

Lets put up our pitchforks and beat them into plowshares.

Let's create rather than destroy.

Let's be the blessed peacemakers, the other cheek turners, the good Samaritans.

Let's cut the car in front of us, the person alongside us, the child who follows us, some slack.

Let's be kind to one another.

Because we are all we've got.

Let's be slackers.


I have a new button on my sidebar. If this message resonates with you, you are welcome to snag it for your own.

Thanks for listening and God bless.

I'm a slacker.

How about you?

Home

"When I think of home, I think of a place
Where there's love overflowing
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there
With the things I've been knowing
Wind that makes the tall grass bend into leaning
Suddenly the raindrops that fall have a meaning
Sprinkling the scene makes it all clean"

from The Wiz, music & lyrics by Charlie Smalls

When my boys were small, I got into the habit of saying, "Home again; home again" as I pulled into our garage. And like the properly trained children they were (HAH!) they chimed in from the back seat with, "Jigitty Jig!"

It was but one of the many family rituals we performed.

When asked "What did you do at school today?" if the answer was art (or gym), someone would inevitably respond brightly, "Oh! And how is Art (Jim) doing these days?" When one of us claimed, "I'm hungry" the correct answer was clearly, "How do you do Hungry? I'm Susan."

When on vacation, we opined, "If it's cheap, it's cheery. If it's free, it's fun!" a hand-me-down from my father. When at home, we said goodnight with Eskimo kisses & bear hugs.

First ornaments on the tree at Christmas were always new: one for each child. And new pajamas always made an appearance just in time for bed on Christmas eve, to ensure sweet Christmas dreams.

We hold hands around the table when we say grace before each meal. We give books at every occasion. We think parsley is an underutilized herb that could have many more practical applications than just serving as a plate garnish (don't ask). and we are inordinately fond of the number 12 (long story).

Last night's "Glee" episode was about home, but more than home as a place. It was really about home as a state of being. The hour closed with the song quoted above: "Home" from the Broadway musical, The Wiz. Dorothy sings it at the emotional climax of the show, as she clicks her heels three times...

What makes home...home?

Home is where everybody knows your name. Home is where we run to. Home is sweet. Home is safe. Home is the place there's no place like. Home is where we hang our hearts - right next to where we hang our hats. Home is where we are most true.

Every one of us is born with an innate desire to find home. Just as surely as homing pigeons.

I believe it is an echo of our longing for God.

Reread the lyrics and compare them to this passage from The Lord of the Rings. These are Gandalf's words to Pippin at the battle for Minas Tirith, when Pippin states, "I didn't think it would end this way."

Gandalf responds: "End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it."

"What, Gandalf?" Pippin asks. "See what?"

The camera is close in on Gandalf's face now. His eyes shine with a look akin to wondrous mirth, and a smile seems to break at the corners of his mouth and eyes. "White shores," he replies in a slow but steady voice. He turns his head to look away from Pippin, seeming to gaze into a distance just off-camera, where we cannot see: "And beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

Home is where we belong. Whether that is heaven, church, or house in the suburbs; a close knit family, a circle of friends, or our own inner peace. Home is where we rest our weary heads and dare to close our eyes, knowing we can trust our environment.

Families, friendships, relationships, places (even our interactions on the Internet) have their own traditions, sayings, habits, & inside jokes.These are rituals, as surely as the sacramental acts found in any church.

And just like the rituals performed in church, they mark us as members, as part of a community, as family.

They are the bread and wine of life, initiating us into the fraternity of humankind, the communion of souls. They are the glue that binds us and the lodestone that brings us...

home at last.

And now a side note to my husband of thirty-onederful years today, who has always held & sheltered me from life's storms as best he can and braved them with me when they cannot be avoided:

I am so blessed to have you in my life: someone who not only let's me be me, but actively encourages it, in the truest sense of the word. You give me the courage to be me.

I love you more today than that candle-lit night we first said, "I do." I did, I do, and I always will.

Wherever we go, whatever life brings, as long as we are together, I am always home.

Riddly Riddly Ree...

Vision -- It reaches beyond the thing that is, into the conception of what can be. Imagination gives you the picture. Vision gives you the impulse to make the picture your own.

- Robert Collier

When my sons were small, they were less than fond of eating out. Oh, they liked the food well enough; what they hated was the wait. Brought up on microwaved pancakes & instant pudding, they were unaccustomed to the idea that one might have to delay their gratification till a later point in time.

So we, the adults, became experts at the art of misdirection and subterfuge. We learned all kind of new tricks to keep the lid on the temper tantrums & whining, which loomed just beyond the present moment. One of those tricks was Riddly Riddly Ree.

The game started with one of us proclaiming, "Riddly riddly ree; I see something you don't see and its color is..." The game then passed into the twenty questions phase, "Is it bigger than a bread box?" "Is it here on the table?" "Does it move?"

Once someone correctly guessed what "it" was, that person got to pick out another "it" and off we would go again. This continued till the food arrived or the participants became disinterested, whichever came first.

Vision is on my mind much these days. I have severely dry eyes, have had for the past four years. but it is getting worse. It has become more & more difficult to focus, especially my right eye.

The increasing time spent at my work is undoubtedly the cause. I spend my days either knitting (often in fine yarn) or working at the laptop, charting, writing, communicating, filling orders, looking for yarn, etc...

Yesterday was my annual eye check and I am under orders to: drink more water, use the computer less, & take more frequent breaks while working.

I also have a new prescription and will be getting lachrymal plugs in two weeks. It is hoped that these measures will both alleviate the discomfort & increase my visual acuity back into the normal range.

As with most things in our lives that are working well, we take our eyes for granted. Only when faced with the prospect of their diminished capacity, do we begin to really value what we have. I no longer know what it feels like to have normal vision.

My eyes burn, itch, & go out of focus from the moment I get up until the time I retire for the evening. By 9:00 in the morning, I have a splitting headache. By 9:00 at night, I can no longer see either the television or the computer screen clearly.

I no longer see something you don't see. Now the tables are turned. You see something I don't see. And sometimes the best I can do is guess at what that might be. Riddly, riddly ree...

My outer eyes may struggle, but my interior vision is as acute as ever, thank God. I can still see with my minds eye.

I can look at a yarn and "see" what it wants to be.

I can see my husband's fatigue in the set of his shoulders when he arrives home after a long day at the office.

I can see my friend's heartache, as she speaks of her lost son.

I can also see my mother's world in the movie "Mona Lisa Smile" which was on FX this morning.

Mom went to Connecticut College for Women in exactly the time period and under the same restrictions depicted in the film. If you are not familiar with it, the movie tells the story of a "liberal" female teacher at Wellesley, who confronts tradition and challenges her students to "see" not only art, but life itself, from a new vantage point.

How we see, affects what we see. What we see, affects what we do. And what we do has the power to change not only our environment but the environment of others.

Poor vision needs to be addressed, else we lose our capacity to see clearly. We must protect our sight, whether the solution is new glasses, new attitudes, or a whole new way of looking at the world.

I Believe

"Walk blindly to the light and reach out for his hand
Don't ask any questions and don't try to understand
Open up your mind and then open up your heart
And you will see that you and me aren't very far apart

'Cause I believe that love is the answer
I believe that love will find the way"

_ Blessed Union of Souls

First, before I forget, thank you to everyone who has left supportive messages here, in my email, and on Ravelry. They were not necessary, but they were much appreciated none the less.

And NO, I will NOT believe my own press - LOL - that way lies a swelled head and a false sense of worth.

I will however tuck the love within my breast pocket close to my heart, a little something extra to warm my soul when I'm feeling low. You are an amazing group.

I have thought a lot about the events that transpired this weekend and realized my part in the whole mess: I should not have gotten upset; I regret that.

I also erred in leaving the arena to fill up with people taking sides. Had I realized that was happening, I would have tried to head things off at the pass, before things were said on both sides that hurt.

It is all too easy to define ourselves by the "other", by what we are NOT. "Well, at least I'm not doing what SHE is doing"... Or "I would never"... Or even " How dare THEY?"...

This kind of divisive thinking leads to a whole lot of unhappiness in our world. And it is unnecessary, in my opinion. US vs. THEM is no way to go through life.

I don't believe anyone is evil. I don't believe demonizing helps us in any way, shape or form. It leads us to easy targets instead of hard choices.

So, what DO I believe?

I believe every person carries the light of God within them from birth. When I attack another of God's children, I turn my back on that light and disrespect not only the person, but myself as well. We are better than that.

I believe if we only do what cannot fail, we miss the best of what we have to offer the world. We must not run or hide or hang our heads if we are less than 100% successful in everything we do. We have so much potential in our hearts & souls and the world needs every blessed one of us.

I believe we should reach high. That way, when we come up short, which we usually do, we are still above the mediocrity so much of our world wallows in.

I believe we are still learning and evolving. We may not be what we will yet become, but, by God, we are not what we once were. And that is progress of the best kind. Whether it is a new knitting stitch or a new way of seeing the world, no one has all the answers. To each of us is given a piece of the puzzle; we must work together to make a harmonious whole.

I believe only she who is without fault can cast the stones. Don't know about you, but that definitely leaves me out of the rock throwing business.

I believe in the communion of saints, and by that I do not mean those marble statues in church. I mean us. Quakers are often accused of eliminating the clergy. We have not. We have eliminated the lay person. All of us are saints. All of us carry God within.

I believe we can accomplish more by working together, than we can by pulling apart.

I believe it is better to build up than to tear down.

I believe girls like Legolas, but women prefer Aragorn ( oops - wait a minute - I digress - my bad!)

I believe in purposeful living. We are not just marking time. We are here for a reason. Our lives matter. They mean something.

I believe it is the responsibility of each individual to discover for themselves what that purpose is.

I believe my purpose is to love and support those I come into contact with on a day to day basis, whether that individual is a member of my family, an unhappy customer, or the man selling brooms outside the downtown post office door.

I believe, when we fall, we should pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and not waste time in moaning about it; we must learn from it, and go on about our business, which is, to paraphrase the Ghost of Christmas Present, "[hu]mankind."

I believe forgiveness is the hardest challenge we face in life, and the one that builds the most character.

I believe in the power of love to overcome death, war, pestilence, anger, sloth, selfishness, petty argument, bigotry, and all the other ills which our world is heir to.

I believe that even as we wind our way to the end of our journeys , we plant the seeds for a new beginning.

That is what I believe. What about you?

Great Expectations

"There is no greater enemy to those who would please than expectation."

- Michel Eyquem De Montaigne

"Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate."

- Henry David Thoreau

I was already planning a post today on expectations, and I now find myself skewered by them.

There are some very unhappy knitters on Ravelry and they are voicing their disappointment in Evenstar.

That is their right. It goes with the territory. I live my life, to a certain extent, in the public arena. With great successes, come great expectations.

And perhaps I had a few expectations as well. I expected to please 1000 people. I probably shouldn't have.

Expectations can be wonderful things; they allow us to dream our dreams and build wonderful castles in the sky. They can also take on a life of their own, if we let them.

This time last year, I was looking forward to the cruise I took with my husband in celebration of our 30th anniversary. I had almost as much fun during the planning of that trip as I did during it.

I thought about what to pack, what shore excursions we should take, which islands we should visit, what cabin we should spring for. I did research on line. I joined travel chat rooms. I did everything I could to fulfill my expectations for that vacation, our first in many years.

But a funny thing happened on our way to the ship. We missed our flight. The airline lost our luggage. We found ourselves in San Juan with the clothes on our backs & the swimsuits in our carry-on.

We sat on deck before sailing, with a lovely breeze flowing over us and the sun beaming down. We had drinks with parasols in them.

But DH was so angry over the screw ups that he couldn't enjoy the beauty of the day. His experience failed to live up to his expectations and he was unable to reconcile the two. I told him to relax; they would find our bags (which they did - eventually) and we should make the best of it.

Because our expectations weren't met, we wasted the first day of our vacation fuming & fussing, instead of relaxing and we will never get that day back.

The basic facts of life are this: we cannot control our world. We are not in charge. Sometimes things will work out to our benefit. And sometimes they won't. No matter how many precautions we take, no matter how much experience we have, no matter how hard we work, sometimes things just don't go how we thought they would.

We must not allow our expectations to get the better of us. Therein lies only grief.

A parent's expectations begin during pregnancy. This child will be special. This child will be a doctor. This child will always love me. This child will look like me, talk like me, have all my virtues, but none of my faults.

We bring some of those same expectations to our other relationships as well. And we find that people in real life are rarely what we expected.

Ultimately, all we can do is hope for the best, expect something somewhat less than that, and learn to accept the fact that neither we, nor the world we live in, are perfect.

One of the perils of living a more public life than in the past, is the very real possibility that people will expect more of you than you, in fact, are capable of.

As my business has grown over the past few years, I have found people who think I am famous. I have found people who imagine I live a charmed life, out on a real life sunflower farm somewhere. I have found people who expect my patterns to transcend the norm. I have found people who expect perfection.

And I have disappointed them.

In truth, I live an existence as flawed and full of contradiction as anyone else in this world. I eat too much, exercise too little, forget to buy the milk at the grocery store, have good days & bad days, procrastinate too often, call my friends too in-often.

I knit just like you. I make mistakes just like you. And I try my best to fix them just like you.

I asked a burning question on Plurk this past week: Do we expect too much of our artisans? Do we forget that what makes a hand-made item special, also makes it flawed?

We could, after all have a machine made sweater for much less money and effort. Every stitch would be the same. Everything would be perfect.

But it would not be a product of our love for the individual and our passion for our art.

And I think that would be sad.

I could set up my software, plug in the stitches & measurements, have it spit out a flawless pattern, which I could then try to sell as my own.

But what fun is that? It would be stale & lifeless, predictable & inert. Computers are very good at perfection. They are very bad at creativity.

Creativity requires the human spark and that human touch comes with imperfection attached.

Over the last few weeks, I have seen several people cease their creative endeavors, because they decided that the joy they got from creating art or supplying those who do simply wasn't worth the unpleasantness that occurred when they failed to meet someone's expectations. I have seen the pain of honest people doing the best they can and discovering it isn't enough.

Are we setting them, as well as ourselves, up for failure?

Several years ago, I struggled with depression brought on by my inability to cope with the truth: I am not now, nor will I ever be: perfect.

Anyone who expects differently should not buy my patterns.

They should also not travel, not have children, not get a job, not get married, not knit, for that matter. All these things, at one time or another, will not go as they expected.

I aim to please. Sometimes I miss. When I do, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and carry on (a little worse for wear, but standing still)

I think Thoreau said it far better than I can. Public opinion does not dictate private character. I work very hard at my craft. I love knitting with a passion, one that I share freely with anyone who wishes to join me.

I ask your forbearance for my faults and beg your forgiveness for my earlier outburst on the boards at the KAL. It seems that, just like you, I get angry. Just like you, I can have my feelings hurt. Just like you, I have feet of clay.

Who knew?

Oh, The Places We'll Go...

“The more that you read, the more things you will know.
The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”

Dr. Suess

Well it has certainly been busy out here on the sunflower farm, since I announced the new Lord of the Rings project!

We are already up to 268 people strong, and they are still coming in from all over the world: Germany, Finland, Norway, Australia, France, Great Britain, Korea, & I'm probably missing a couple.

Wow!

I don't know what else to say...

Just wow!

One of the themes that I really love in LOTR is the message that we must all work together to accomplish great things. Whether dwarfs, men, elves, eagles, ents, or hobbitses.

It would appear that our own fellowship may turn out to be every bit as diverse.

That is so exciting to me! (kindly forgive the liberal sprinkling of exclamation points throughout - sometimes periods just don't suffice)

I have been contacted by someone who has volunteered to translate the clues for Evenstar into German and would be pleased if anyone else wishes to do so for knitters in their country. the more, the merrier. Don't want anyone to feel left out.

DH is worried this is going to change our quiet little lives. I told him not to worry. A friend told me, "As long as they don;t show up on your doorstep, eyeing your stash, and whispering, 'My Preciousssssssss,' you're probably okay."

But DH is right; it has already changed our lives.

My email has tripled; my Plurk account is blossoming with new friends; the KAL on Ravelry is going on with great enthusiasm, & I have lots of new bookmarks on my browser: LOTR lyrics, LOTR dictionary, LOTR characters, LOTR chat rooms, LOTR jewelry...

You get the picture.

I am worried that the pupils will surpass the teacher, Hell, I think know they already have!

It is time for this designer to take out her trilogy and start boning up.

A few words about the Evenstar KAL:

This will truly be a Knit-a-long in the truest sense of the word. I will be knitting along with y'all. I have swatched and done all the design work in another yarn, but am awaiting delivery from Blue Moon on the final yarn I selected for the project: silk thread II, which is both lighter and has a great deal of sheen to it. The Geisha is a beautiful fiber, but it just didn't seem ethereal enough for Arwen. So I have bitten the bullet and will begin again.

I will, of course, be working ahead of you by about 2 weeks. No progress pictures allowed (that is part of the fun) but know that I will be thinking of you and taking copious notes as I knit, so that I can adequately address any questions that arise throughout the project.

I have based my yarn estimate on a shawl of similar size, shape, and design then added a hefty cushion onto that figure to allow for missteps and gauge variations along the way.

We have a beginner's thread going over on the Rav KAL board called "Bag's End." I named it that because that is where the adventure begins. It seemed appropriate. Bag's End is a welcoming place with lots of newbies and just enough more experienced folk dropping in to keep things moving along.

There is also a thread for your ideas as to future projects in the series. I refer to this as the "ooh ahh I wanna" thread. So many good ideas & only one designer. You guys are an amazing font of inspiration.

And I have entered my first chat room ---ever. (Yes...I know I am a troglodyte. What can I say?) I will try to visit the Evenstar Chat room on Rav at least once every evening and once during the day. Already had a good chat with some folks there this morning. I will post a message on the boards when I am entering. Hope to see some of you there.

I am wondering if I should push back the start date by a week or two to allow the yarn dyers time to fill all these orders - don't want anyone to get left behind. Most people are having to order yarn rather than pick it up at the LYS, due to the size of the project. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.

I have been thinking much this past week on divisions within the fiber community. We all know they are there.

Some knit, some crochet, some spin. Some use charts and others swear by written directions (Evenstar will have both, thanks to nifty new software I am testing.) Some throw their yarn; others pick. Some use metal needles; others like bamboo.

We are divided into nations, states, cities, towns, neighborhoods, cliques, knitting circles. And with these divisions come the temptation to define ourselves by them. Not only by where we belong, but by where we don't.

I like this, but I don't like that. I believe this, but I doubt that. I AM this, but not that.

It is a short and tragic step from there to: I am right and you are wrong.

And then we start keeping score, like Gimli & Legolas, of all those whom we have shot and killed with our arrows.

I believe what binds us together is stronger than what tears us apart. I believe we can move forward faster, if we don't waste our time moving away from each other. We have places to go.

I believe in fellowships, like the one we are beginning to form here.

I believe together we can change the world...

one Orc at a time.

*****

Speaking of which, I hope you all will donate to Knitters without Borders today. Yarn Harlot is running a drive here for the residents of Haiti who have been devastated by the earthquake yesterday.

All proceeds go to Doctors without Borders, a wonderful organization that has done much good around the world. I am trying to set up something so we can donate $1 for every Evenstar sign up, but don't really know how to do that. Have left a message for Stephanie, so we will see...

Nobility

"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble."

-Helen Keller

I have been revisiting the world of Middle Earth in recent days. TNT ran the original version over the past weekend and that has prompted me to haul out the extended version on DVD and wallow in the great story and noble characters once more.

I friggin' LOVE this movie. I know that all the buzz is about Avatar right now, but it will have a long way to go, in my humble opinion, before it approaches the pathos, ethos, & logos of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

This story has it all: richly developed characters who grow and develop in unexpected ways over the course of the movies, characters you come to love and empathize with and care about and laugh and cry with.

A parable for the time at which it was written, as Europe fell into the ruin and disregard for human life that prepared the ground to receive the blood of countless soldiers in world war II. Heroes who fought for the basic human rights given us by our creator, who fought to preserve the world of men as we knew it.

A story that is still ripe with meaning for our world today as we grapple with the consequences of global warming and a disregard for the world of nature. I suspect the Ents would have much to add to our debates in Copenhagen.

A depth and richness of spectacle unsurpassed in movie making, with Ents, Faeries, & Wizards. Orcs, Ringwraithes, & Trolls. Small hobbits who accomplish great deeds & large monsters who fail.

A story rich in metaphor and symbolism, including the eventual and inevitable triumph of good over evil.

But most of all. what keeps me coming back again and again, what makes me pause the movie endless times, hoping to delay the sad, yet inevitable, time when the words, "The End" appear upon my small screen, is the heartrending and overwhelming sense of nobility and purpose held within the pages of the story.

Our society yearns for greatness. But we set a harsh prerequisite.

We elevate our sports figures into heroes, then feed upon them when they turn out to have feet of clay just like the rest of us.

We cheer a new president who ushers in a time unthought of for generations of oppressed slaves, but give him up just as quickly, once we discover that slaying the dragon is going to be neither quick, nor particularly stirring.

We read biographies & watch documentaries about Winston Churchill, and John Adams, & Martin Luther King and wonder why there are no men or women of such stature on today's front page.

Perhaps, I would propose to you today, we set our standards both too high and too low.

Perhaps, if we are searching for nobility, we should hearken to Mother Theresa's message, when she said, "I cannot do great things. I can only do small things with great love."

I see greatness of heart and nobility of purpose everywhere I cast my eye this January morn.

I see it in the loving care in which my fellow "Plurkies" (as we call the people on Plurk) enfold one who, though unknown and unmet by most of us, feels like an old friend. She is undergoing chemotherapy right now and she does not stand alone. We stand with her as she faces the dragon.

I see it in the fond good-byes and heartfelt good wishes as we bid farewell to a fellow traveler, who embarks today upon a new quest, moving far to the north to attend design school and open a new chapter in his life.

I see it in the commiseration of countless individuals when one is sick, or weary, or in search of motivation.

I experienced it firsthand a few nights ago when I confronted the darkness within my own soul.

And heroes rose up to greet me, to carry me when I could not stand alone.

There is greatness within us all, as we laugh together, cry together, make beauty together...

We are Gandalf on his white horse. We are Merry in his pint sized armor. We are Arwen with her decision to forsake immortality in favor of true love.

And most of all we are Frodo: the unlikeliest of heroes, who does small things with great love.

Together, we push back the darkness and overcome the evil in our world. Together, we triumph.

There is nobility and spirit and greatness, both within us and around us every day we walk upon this middle earth.

We have but to open our eyes & ears; our hearts & souls to know it.

That is our epic journey. And the story begins, as Frodo's did.

With one small step.

Once More with Attitude!

Man's rise or fall, success or failure, happiness or unhappiness depends on his attitude... a man's attitude will create the situation he imagines.

- James Allen

Bet you all thought I wasn't going to post today! I spent the morning emptying out my bank account (common this time of year) and the afternoon just plain got away from me.

At 5:00, Baby Boy/Family Man brought grandson Conner over for us to babysit. Every thought of Ravelry, knitting, plurking, blogging, etc. went flying out the window and took off like Rudolph on steroids.

I see that little smile and there is nothing in the world but that sweet face and even sweeter disposition. Yeah...I've got it bad!

Now the little charmer is sound asleep and I am picking back up the reins of my little endeavor.

The chat boards over on Plurk have been chock full of snow forecasts and Christmas preparations. And I have noticed that the same thing that brings joy to one, is a source of aggravation to another.

One person can't wait for the snow to begin; another speaks poetically of the big fat flakes drifting gently downward. Someone else is complaining about digging his driveway out and yet aonther can't believe all the idiots at the grocery store and on the road.

Some are looking forward to time spent off from work; others have had plenty of time off, thank you very much, and would do just about anything to be putting in some 40 hour work weeks.

Some revel in the baking, the shopping, the knitting, the wrapping, the decorating, the partying. Others pull the blankets over their heads, mutter "Bah Humbug" under their breath and wish the month long bacchanalia was over.

It seems that one person's "[dream] of a white Christmas" is another poor soul's "Nightmare Before Christmas." It all depends on who you ask. And sometimes, when you ask.

We are all short on time this month and many of us are tired out. We ask a lot of ourselves in December. We want to be Martha Stewart, but we wind up Erma Bombeck.

But that's OK. Face it; we can't do it all. We can try, but there is a cost to be paid in our sanity and serenity.

Most situations we face in life are double edged swords. The snow is beautiful - until you have to drive in it. The presents are generous outpourings of love - until you have to pay for them. The cookies are absolutely delicious - until you step onto the scales in January.

Conner is so thrilled by everything this Christmas - the lights, the shiny ornaments, the bright colors of the wrappings & ribbons, his first taste of hot cocoa or pumpkin pie. It is all a never-ending adventure, a source of giggles and smiles of wonder. It is all new to him; all looked upon with fresh and unbiased eyes.

Happiness and contentment are fleeting things at best. But joy - well, joy is ever-lasting. Our circumstances are often out of our control, but our attitudes are not.

We shape how we see our world. And how we see our world shapes us.

Dream or Nightmare? YOU decide...

I'm going to go peek in on my own little babe - and say a simple prayer to God.

Lord, let me see the world through his eyes...

Just to spread the joy around, I will be giving away a free pattern (of your choice - Spruce excluded) to one commenter a day through Christmas, randomly chosen by Mrs. Claus (just me - don't get too excited).

I'll announce the previous day's winner in each post this month, If you are the winner, email me your preference at susanpandorf@comcast.net and I'll email your pattern right out to you.

Doesn't that sound like a lot of fun?

Yesterday's winner is: Kristin. Email me, girl...

Now aren't you glad you left a comment?

In the Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

- Gustav Holst

Twilight comes early these dark December days and I find myself asking:

Where did the day go?

How can an eight hour work day leave me with so little to show for it?

I get up in the morning with every intention of cranking a lot out of the ol' sunflower mill and before I know it, the sky is darkening, I am listening for my dear husband's "Honey, I'm home" and it is time to make dinner.

The truly frightening thing is how often I wonder:

Where did the week go?

Or the month?

The year?

And in a very few weeks, as we turn our calendars to 2010, I can ask myself:

Where did the decade go?

Yikes!

Now that's scary!

I have spent much of yesterday and today listening to Christmas music on line while I work on my many current projects and the above hymn is my absolute favorite carol.

It is so plaintive and haunting; so stark and simple. There is the same spareness about the song as exists in a silvery field of frost. A sigh of wind. The elegant lines of bare trees. It feels like plainsong.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

The song lacks the robust rejoicing of "Joy to the World." It doesn't have the gravity of "Oh Come All Ye Faithful." And for majesty, it is hard to beat the "Allelujah Chorus" (even if it was composed for the Easter section of the Messiah).

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,
worshiped the beloved with a kiss.

The lyrics tug at my heart. Though surrounded by splendour unimaginable, the mother's kiss is all that matters. Not the angels and archangels, not the cherubim & seraphim. The mother and her love.

A baby knows its parents instinctively. And, as long as there is love surrounding him, that is all that matters. That is enough.

What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

We give our hearts.

We give them every day.

We give them when we kiss our beloved's cheek on our way out the door in the morning.

We give them on our lunch break, when we put a dollar in the red kettle and say, "Merry Christmas" to the kind-hearted soul swinging the bell.

We give them in the afternoon, as we hold a friend's hand and ask, "What's wrong?"

We give them in the evening, when we offer our encouragement to a new knitter, just starting her first sweater, lace shawl, or sock.

And when we tuck our children into bed.

We don't have the riches of the wise men. We do not have the livestock which the shepherds tended (well, MOST of us don't - I know some of you raise sheep.)

But we always and evermore are in possession of the only thing that matters. Our loving hearts.

And that is enough.

Just to spread the joy around, I will be giving away a free pattern (of your choice - Spruce excluded) to one commenter a day through Christmas, randomly chosen by Mrs. Claus (just me - don't get too excited).

I'll announce the previous day's winner in each post this month, If you are the winner, email me your preference at susanpandorf@comcast.net and I'll email your pattern right out to you.

Doesn't that sound like a lot of fun?

Yesterday's winner is: Nebraska Knitter. Email me, girl...

Now aren't you glad you left a comment?

The Life We've Imagined

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined."

- Thoreau

Today, I am heading back south to Indianapolis. I no longer know which place is home. The drift northward has been a gradual thing.

It began several years back, before I ever wrote a word on this blog. Before I picked up my first stitch dictionary. Before sunflowers were anything special. To me anyway...

It began the first time I wondered, "What is this place like when it isn't summer?" When it first occurred to me that Leelanau county was more than - to quote Cherry Republic - "Life, liberty, beaches, and pie."

I was in seminary at the time, working on my masters degree. I called DH and said,"Hell with North Carolina. Let's move to Leland. And I don't want to wait until I have amassed the credits for a full degree. I'll switch to the WORD program and complete the shorter Writing as Ministry curriculum. We'll go as soon as Baby Boy graduates from high school."

That was seven or eight years ago. I switched programs, completed my classes, wrote a book, began a blog, started up a knitting design business, and still we live in Fishers Indiana.

This has been a long time comin'.

The butterflies got the best of me on Monday and Tuesday, as I waited for word from our Realtor.

So I took a little field trip. I drove down to the lot, climbed on top of my car, and just sat for a while, trying to get a feel for the land. I walked a little, prayed a lot, and came away with a good feeling.

Then I drove into Sutton's Bay and stopped at Thistledown Shoppe, the closest LYS, where Cherry Country had been on loan long enough to establish permanent residency and apply for a Michigan driver's license.

Kathy was gracious as always, and we had a nice chat about how the local knitters are scared of lace, and did I have anything else that I could teach.

Well, yeah...

Kathy introduced me to her staff and told them I was soon to be a local resident, hopefully a teacher, and definitely a new voice at Monday night knitting circle. They were very welcoming.

I went away with a copy of Elizabeth Zimmerman's The Opinionated Knitter, so I could knit a Tomten for Conner this Christmas, and three skeins of Shibui Baby Alpaca DK in cobalt blue, which will transform themselves at some point into a piece called "Big Blue."

I also went away with a nice warm feeling in my heart.

I stepped next door to Martha's Leelanau Table, where I sat at a sun drenched corner table, and enjoyed a fall salad with local produce and half of an apple and cheese panini.

The waitress told me she moved up here 25 years ago from the Detroit suburbs and never looked back. She invited me to take cooking classes or come to their Sunday night suppers, which were served family-style at one long table. "You'll meet people in no time," she offered.

I strolled down Main street to the Front Porch, where I picked up some of Sticky Fingers' tart cherry scone mix for the boys and saw a coffee mug with the above Thoreau quote on it. The mug somehow found its way into my bag. Now how did THAT happen?

I believe in synchronicity. I believe in messages from God. I believe that life is a whole and we will see how things work together for good if we pay attention.

And the message I got yesterday was exactly what I needed to hear and see.

I will move forward into the life we have imagined together. And I will drink my morning coffee from the mug to remind myself of our ultimate destination. And our commitment to it. And I will try each day to move that life a little closer.

The next two years will be hard. We will have two homes: the one we leave behind and the one we will move into. The one we built to raise our family in and the one we will build to welcome them back to the lake.

My sister told me last night, "I envy you. It is so exciting to move up here! To discover all the wonderful things this area has to offer." Then she sat me down for a humble supper of biscuits and gravy, prepared by loving hands, consumed with family. Another powerful reminder of what we are moving towards, rather than away from.

Negotiations continue for the property. I know there will be tough times ahead, as we invest our money, our energies, and our hearts into Afterglow. There is much to be done, from tidying up our current home and making long neglected updates and repairs, to putting our belongings into storage and renting while we build our dream. From saying goodbye to old friends, to making new ones.

But we have the luxury of choice, which many do not. We are fortunate indeed. We are blessed.

And the butterflies have flown elsewhere.

For now...

Show & Tell

"Tell me, I'll forget. Show me, I may remember. But involve me, and I'll understand."

- Chinese Proverb

When I first began to write, a good piece of advice came my way:

Show; don't tell.

Don't write, "It was cold." Write, "The north wind blew through the trees with a vengeance. These were not whispering pines. No. These great northern bastions knew better than to waste their energies in such a way. These trees used all they had to bend, but not break. To withstand the great gusts that blew from across the lake. To endure until the summer sun again warmed their branches."

What did it smell like? What did it sound like? What did it feel like?

Show; don't tell.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps, I have taken that too literally to heart.

I have fallen into the practice of letting my pictures tell my story, posting only when I have something worthwhile to show you: something to make you drool with longing; something to entice your return to gaze upon knitting, or yarn, or babies; something that moves my little enterprise forward and puts money in my pocket (at least until the next college tuition payment!)

And in so doing, I have forgotten the power of my words. The need to post when I have something worthwhile to TELL you: something to make you think, something to turn to when you have need of reflection; something that puts no money in my pocket, but puts warmth in my heart and purpose in my spirit.

I forgot that life wasn't all about knitting. (GASP! HERESY!) I thought you were only interested in my work.

Then, over the weekend, you all reminded me you were interested in me.

I got more comments on my last post than I have gotten over any pattern revealed, any yarn shamelessly shilled generously offered, any design endlessly dissected.

A post with no knitting.

No fooling...

There is a time for knitting (which is most of the time - let's be honest here) but it is only part of what makes up a life. And I had lost sight of that other part of me - the part that I originally began this blog to share.

Thank you for the timely reminder.

We have made an offer on the lot and are waiting to hear back from the sellers with, what I am sure will be a counter-offer. Then we will meet somewhere in the middle, I suspect. That is how the game is played.

And, just like that, we will have taken a big step into an unknown future.

DH and I went up to the lot at sunset last evening and watched the sun go down. And I tried to envision another house and a different life.

Eldest son was one year old when we moved into our current house. We have been there since 1985. My boys have never known another.

I have lived my entire life within 2 hours of Indianapolis. I even went to college nearby. My brother went East and never came back. I was content to stay and raise a family within the comfort of what I knew.

Living in the country, with a very l-o-o-o-o-n-g winter, will be a big change for me.

We are embarking upon our last adventure together. This will be the home we leave behind when we die. We will build a small home for our life now, rather than rattling around in a too big house with the ghosts of children now grown running through the halls and slamming the doors.

We flushed a deer in what will be our backyard. We felt the cold touch of the wind on our faces, as we turned to meet it full on from what will be our front porch.

And while I yearn for the closeness with nature, the peace and serenity, the quiet beauty of our chosen spot upon this earth, I am also a bit afraid to leave so much behind. The known is always safer than the unknown.

I have never turned back from a new challenge. If I had, the Indianapolis Arts Chorale would, perhaps, be no more. Soulful Parent, Soulful Teen; Moving From Control to Care wouldn't have its own little page on Amazon. There would be no Sunflower Designs. You would not be reading these words.

I return to Indianapolis, knowing that I am bound for other shores. It is one thing to talk; another entirely to put your money down.

We will call the new land, "Afterglow." DH suggested, "At Last" or "Finally" because it has taken him so long to get me to fully commit to the move.

But as I stood gazing over the lake after sundown, reveling in the pink sky, the land whispered its name in my ear - "Afterglow" - because it came after the rest of our life, and for the love that we bear each other, which warms us like the embers of our younger infatuations. I would not trade our life together for any other.

We will make a new home. And, in so doing, we will do our best not to leave anything worthwhile behind, but rather to carry it forward within our hearts.

Including all of you. You are an ever-present blessing in my life.

Sunflowers grow anywhere, right?

There is a stanza within the Leelanau song that we sing at the close of all the community sings held in the summer months:

"The afterglow when the sun has set:
These are things we'll never forget."

Afterglow - it's a good thing...

Welcome Home

"Keep the home-fires burning,
While your hearts are yearning,
Though your lads are far away
They dream of home;
There's a silver lining
Through the dark cloud shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home."

-popular World War I song

I am back north in Michigan, looking at property. If we like what we see, DH and I will make an offer - almost 9 acres of God's green earth. Room for a small house with a welcoming hearth. Room to make a new home.

The picture above is the view from our proposed front doorstep. It looks out over Lake Leelanau all the way to Big Blue, or Lake Michigan for the uninitiated. We can just barely make out the Manitou islands in the distance.

I have a feeling about this one - this could be it.

We have been looking at property up here with an eye towards an eventual move for many years now, before real life and a decaying real estate market got the better of us.

Sometimes it felt like we were stuck as a fruit fly in amber - fossilized beyond belief.

But all it took was one look, and we knew.

Well, okay, maybe TWO looks - hence this journey north...

Got into town too late for supper last night and found myself at the Bluebird Bar for a whitefish platter at 9:30. When I got back out to the parking lot, Leland had rolled up the streets.

I mean, it was dark!

And quiet!

I pushed the trusty button on my remote; my headlights flashed, my horn beeped, and I was led home, or at least what passed for home at that particular moment - the front seat of my car.

And it started me thinking...

About home. And light. And what that means.

Many years back, during the holiday season, I wrote a poem about lighting a candle in the window to guide the Christ child home.

Literally, I was thinking about some of the gaudier displays of Christmas cheer spread out upon my neighbor's lawns, with light up reindeer and blow up Santas and such. I contrasted those displays with the simplicity of a single candle guttering in the winter blasts, yet burning brightly in its solitude.

Metaphorically, I was speaking of the condition of the human soul; its singular nature and our willingness to be a beacon of hope against the cold winds that blow us hither and yon within our life span.

I resolved at some point to be a candle. Not a searchlight. Not a spotlight. Certainly not a neon sign.

Nothing too bright and flashy. Just a quiet light from a simple soul. To lead my family, my friends, my fellow humans home.

Home is more than a place. It is a state of mind. It is something held within the heart.

We can bar our doors. We can pull up the drawbridge. We can stock the moat with alligators.

Or we can light a quiet candle. We can choose to BE home. To anyone who is searching for one.

No matter when, no matter where, no matter how.

We can keep the home fires burning within our hearts.

Just One More

"I'm so glad we had this time together,
Just to have a laugh, and sing a song.
Seems we just get started and before we know it
Comes the time we have to say, 'So long."

- Carol Burnett theme by Joe Hamilton

When I was young, my mother would call me in for supper. I would beg...

"Just one more!"

As I grew older, my family would be ready to call it a day on the ski slopes. I would beg...

"Just one more!"

In college, my roommate would holler from the dormitory hall, "Come on; get a move on!" I would beg...

"Just one more!"

The other night, my husband asked me when I was coming to bed; was I going to knit all night? I begged...

"Just one more!"

I don't like endings, happy or not. I like beginnings.

• The anticipation of a good read as I crack the spine on a new paperback.
• The smell of the water as I approach the shore.
• The delicious stretch in the morning as I wake for another day.
• The way the air freshens and cools as I approach the lake house.
• Greeting family and welcoming friends.

I also like middles.

• The way I shut out the world because I can't turn the pages fast enough, as I become thoroughly enveloped in a fictional world.
• The heat of the sun on my back as I doze off on the beach.
• The feeling of accomplishment, as I complete a good morning's work and break for lunch.
• The sigh my life becomes as I settle into the slower rhythms of life at the lake.
• Savoring the pleasure of an evening with loved ones.

But endings, no matter how happy, leave me melancholy and pensive, as what was draws to a close and what is yet to be remains unrealized.

Except for when I finish a pattern. Them I am happy to call it a day, and move on to something else. Not because I did not enjoy the process, but because I am always looking forward to more ideas than I have time to complete.

If only I could sleep-knit...

I write this from the porch in the lake house. My DH left this afternoon, braving the post holiday traffic so he can be back in Indiana in time for a good night's sleep before returning to work tomorrow.

I, however, am enjoying a few more stolen hours, before packing up and hitting the road early tomorrow morning.

What urgent activity causes me to stay on? What task is yet to be fulfilled?

Absolutely nothing. All I can say is...

"Just one more."

One more night. One more white fish dinner. One more row. One more page. One more dream. One more day. One more kiss. One more hug. One more moment.

Before it slips away.

I feel time's passage more keenly these days. The years go so fast. Nothing lasts forever.

Not even the most intricate of lace shawls.

Has it really been six years that we have been planning our move up here full time? And yet we linger in Indy, trapped by a decaying house and an even more decrepit real estate market.

I am going to celebrate my 53rd birthday this month. My father, with whom I share this day, will turn 77 (I think- 53 year old brains don't work as well as they used to.) This is my 52nd summer at the lake, my father's somewhat more.

And yet the distant past seems so clear, when I close my eyes.

• Coming round the final turn and knowing we were finally here.
• My father's arms carrying me into the dark cottage.
• Checking for spiders before daring to get into bed at night.
• The sound of the Luna moth beating her wings against the screen.
• Helping my grandmother hang out the wash.
• My sister and I taking turns drying the dishes.
• The scavenger hunts my grandfather laid in the surrounding woods.

And memories of a less distant past:

My children:

• Toddling about the yard.
• Playing in the sand
• Sleeping on my husband's shoulder as he carries them into the dark cottage.

My father is growing older, as am I. We have talked of future arrangements and final wishes. It is best to be prepared, though he is yet vital and still beats the pants off younger family members in cards every evening.

I know that my own faculties are slipping with age; my father's are also. Time waits for no man. Or woman.

And yet I would tarry. I would remember the beginnings. I would revel in the middle.

I know that on his last day, as on mine, I will beg...

"Just one more, Lord. Just one more."

No(ro) Time Like the Present

"We steal if we touch tomorrow. It is God's."
-Henry Ward Beecher

Isn't that a fascinating quote to ponder today? I'm not quite sure I ever thought of it that way.

Of course, it is all too true.

DH is out of town this week, down in Huntsville AL at a training session for his job. So I stayed up too late knitting last night.

But look at how much I accomplished!

Just last week, it looked like this:

Just goes to show, you never really know what your children are going to grow up to become!

The pattern just wasn't making the best use of the spectacular color runs of the Silk Garden Lite. But I wanted to keep this project on the simple side.


An easily memorized 6 stitch, 14 row mosaic pattern does the trick. You get the complex look of Fair Isle with half - one third - nowhere NEAR the effort! Clever yarn!

She doesn't have a name yet - any suggestions?

Note added later: Too late! I christened her "Byzantine" for the colorful mosaics found in Byzantine churches.

Meanwhile, Festivus is ready for her bath and a little stretch to knock out the kinks. Look for her tomorrow.


Not every ball of Noro is so flamboyant. This understated little fellow is waiting on additional yarn. As you can see in this pic, the dreaded Noro knot rendered the pattern indistinguishable at the top.

His time will come soon enough.

Last night, as I knit, I watched the late movie on AMC: The Game, with Michael Douglas. Michael Douglas plays Nicholas Van Horton, a very successful and lonely business tycoon, whose brother gives him a very unusual birthday present.

I won't go too deeply into the plot (would take forever - very convoluted) but the upshot is that Nick learns how to live in the present, because everything spirals so far out of control that he has no choice, but to react.

And, in the end, that IS the gift. The complete unsettling of his routine breaks the bonds that hem him in and sets him free to experience life more adventurously, more fully...

More presently.

Sometimes I think I am somehow deficient or less than an adult, because I live so fully in the present. My work demands it. Thinking about next month, or next year, while you are knitting a complex pattern is asking for it.

"It" being dropped stitches, unintentional "K2tog"s, wonky patterns, one-offs, and frog ponds.

Sometimes I think I should worry more about the future.

• Will my eyes hold up?
• Will my patterns keep selling?
• Will I run out of things to say?
• How will I cope if Scott dies first?
• If I do?
• What does tomorrow hold, that I should be preparing for today?

I used to worry about those things all the time. Now I just shove them back into the closet and slam the door behind them. I can't answer them, so why waste my enjoyment of life on them?

I am never happier than when fully present in the moment, whether I am knitting, playing with Conner, spending time with my husband, or listening to God.

John Lennon had it exactly right when he wrote, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans."

Sometimes, we need those plans to go awry.

Sometimes, we need to let go of our perceived realities.

Sometimes, we need to let the yarn, the beloved, the truth, or the moment tell us where to go and what the pattern looks like.

I do not design. I let the design flow through me.

I do not drive. I let the road take me where it will.

Trying to wrest the wheel into my hands would surely lead to disaster.

Might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.