Friday, September 27, 2013

Things that happen in the Fall if you are a Knitter.

There are 88 days left until Christmas, a holiday which inspires ridiculous self imposed expectations from knitters everywhere. Of course, I am far too clever to fall prey to that sort of...Hey! Are those three manly, thematically connected sock patterns that would be perfect for my father and brothers?

I can totally knit six socks in time to mail them to Colorado for Christmas. No problem.
Possibly inspired by the staggeringly delicious Pumpkin Ice Cream at Young's Jersey Dairy, I got 375 yards of this handspun, which is called Pumpkin Patch. This photo shows approximately 12% of its loveliness and cements my desire to buy a wheel and just start spinning, already. I know that I have a drop spindle and a spindolyn and that plenty of people spin sweater quantities not just on drop spindles, but on improvised drop spindles made of sticks and old AOL installation CDs. I'm not one of those people.

Also seen at The Woolgathering - Tunis Sheep. I also saw Finn Sheep, various goats, horses, jersey cows, and pigs - but I'm giving my personal "sweetest little face EVER" to these darlings.

I know that this photo is startlingly yellow. Rest assured that the sheep themselves have lovely auburn faces and creamy fleeces, and that the tent they were in was in fact startlingly yellow.
Tent color was a big factor in this whole event, actually. This was the better option, the rest of the tents were red and made everything that wasn't red appear to be red anyway. Knitters everywhere were ducking under the sides of the tent to be sure they weren't inadvertently buying red yarn.

There were also deep fried cheese curds, which were a normal shade of yellow, but startlingly delicious.

Just you and me, Mom. And the yarn.
The rest of what is happening is that I have three pairs of socks and a shawl on the needles, two sweater quantities of yarn (both orange - I'd have an excuse if I lived in a tent) calling my name, a new pattern booklet came home with me from knitting this week, I must knit a hat INSTANTLY, all the yarn in the world seems to be on sale, and I have scored an immensely coveted Fat Squirrel Fibers knitting bag.

Luckily, Leah is going to be gone all day this Saturday and I will be able to wallow in fibery goodness with wild abandon. I may pile all of the sock yarn on the floor and roll around in it while binge listening to podcasts and flipping through back issues of Knitscene. Or, you know. I could finish socks and a shawl.

Monday, September 9, 2013


Out driving again, this time well and truly lost somewhere near Goshen. Suddenly, a pick your own orchard came into view. Yes, please!

I was expecting apples, and apples they certainly had. But I've never before been able to pick pears. We walked down a hill, over a creek, past the beans and the pond and the gazebo and found these golden beauties. We filled our bucket to the sound of contented bees, feasting on the fallen fruit. We got a lot of pears. Actually, it's a ridiculous amount of pears for just two people, which became sort of a theme. I'll be looking for pear butter recipes, and seeing if a pear a day keeps anyone away. The dentist? The chiropractor, maybe?

After the pears, we looked for apples. But then we got waylaid by the sight of a bucket full of grapes. Grapes! They were delicious, a world apart from the flavorless, seedless, chilly green globes in the grocery store. The air between the vines smelled like the grape juice you remember from your childhood, when a purple moustache was the fashion accessory of the summer. We totally went overboard on the grapes.

We did pick apples too - a mere twelve pounds, so apparently we had learned a little restraint by then. (Or the buckets got too heavy.) But surrounded by so much abundance, what can a person do but accept it?

I'm still not entirely sure where we were. But I took a picture of the sign, so we can find it again. In a few weeks, it'll be time to explore their pumpkin patch.