It’s particularly quiet on the mountain this morning.
In the summer stillness of Northern California, there is usually no weather to report for months on end. Sometimes there is a breeze. Sometimes a little fog which swells up from the valley in the morning. Sometimes a relentless wind which cracks off dried branches from the trees in the forest and whips off tips of new growth, littering the country road.
The wind whistling through the tree tops is the most eerie up in the Rafters O’ Society, above the towns, overlooking ridges which overlap , one behind another clear into the next county. Because in the breeze one hears a kind of silence which is felt in the restless sound of the trees quivering. The fact that one hears *only* the breeze, I guess is what makes it seem so quiet.
(Two pensive ravens perched in a dead fir tree, photographed with a zoom from my house, yesterday early evening.)
I do like rain, or even a lot of rain ~ in fact, I love rain. But for now there’s blue sky. Lots and lots of clear, dry, and very blue sky. This summer season makes me feel rather despondent, clear through September. I must hunker down in the shadows. It’s time to make a good strong pint of tea and stir things up.
In the dusty wild west, where things are a few degrees removed from finery, some of us pioneers, well, we devise our own way of doing things. I do have a couple of small tea pots, but I have gotten into the habit over the years to brew loose-leaf tea in a canning jar, sometimes a pint sized (to be pour’d into a pint glass) , but more times than not, I make up in a quart-sized jar. What is left can easily be put into the fridge for cold tea later, which is a treat in the summer heat.
This really isn’t about tea, or the wind, or the ravens. Its about my changing course, about drinking in what nature brings to me, and waiting for the wind in my sails again. Having had a house full of family for an epic family reunion I am ready for something cheerfully rejuvenating. I am going to shake it loose and default to some good ol’ classic knitting ! So time to finish these…
I learn from my mistakes very clumsily, like using a machete through the bush, I rip back and then knit forward, rip and knit, rip, knit.
Last night I had to rip back the mindless knitting I had apparently done while at a long break during a gig last weekend, I kept decreasing through the heel gussets (two at a time mistake) and ended up with far too few stitches. So, having fixed that, now I am merrily on my way again.
Fabulous photographs. Love the ravens, of course! And those socks are inspiring. What a great color. I have decided that my socks shouldn’t last as long as they do, since I turn the heels on them so many times, they’re getting worn out before they’re finished. 🙂
Morrie, you are my sock mentor, and now you’re telling me this???? You mean, you aren’t going to put the sock yarn on the wheel and try to spin it tighter in order that it will last longer? 😉
Those ravens, they monkey around in the trees all the time, they are like pets nearly, and they tease Emma !
Are these the socks you are knitting for Jeff? They look so cosy- proper ‘man socks’.
Yes, Lizzi, they are socks for Jeff ! They ought to wear well with the grey vest I knit for him too. 🙂
The ability in changing course is priceless. And you do it well, sista! Nice sighting/capturing of the critters. Nice socks. Just wish I would wear more of ’em myself. Someday…maybe…oh, probably so when we move to Washington!