Rain has soaked the earth in our neck of the woods since some time in mid October, so much rain in fact, that there were run-off streams rushing down the hill that I haven’t seen in a couple of years. The return of the rain season is at last on time, calming everybody’s nerves and we’re settling into a bit of a post fire season bliss. At present we’re having a spell of warm clear days after all that rain. So clear and mild out early this morning I was able to get out with my camera while Juno & Jeff went to dog class and I had a beautiful sunrise all to my self! Mid Autumn, and the golden oaks and maple trees are glowing, turning of the season in balance and everything in its place. What is new: a thing showed up at the very end of October, and if you’re wondering what that odd photo of a small bit of machinery is, its an Ashford electric spinner folks! I write with exclamation and excitement, but to be honest, I’m not sure I’m so crazy about it. I much prefer spinning on my Ashford Traditional spinning wheel any day, but in recent months I have been unable to sit at the treadle wheel without a bit of back pain, or sitting at all for too long. So I couldn’t resist the temptation to try one, as my newly chronic back situation caused a bit of a dilemma, the optimal plan in doing so is that I am able to spin and ply while standing! I must admit in its favor, that it is quite a thrill to ply off several hundred grams of singles bobbins at lightening speed, something that perhaps in time I will find a real benefit from. Until then, its in the closet while the beautiful Ashford Traditional is out of the closet. And Juno is eight months old this week ! Although her behavior is full tilt puppy still, and lots of misbehaving and testing her humans, she’s getting an adult coat of fur and looking quite beautiful . . .
Fresh off the needles , a very simple boot sock .
For my (almost) new walking boots . . .
Walking along my trails, going a little further up the ridge now, making my way around, over and under so many falling blackened trees, carrying the weight of that time almost three years ago, wishing to outgrow the sadness that lingers in the landscape, however robust and magical is the resilience of nature! Goodbye summer.
Tomorrow is the Autumnal equinox, and finally I will be walking into Autumn, a season which seems to be more forgiving of endings, fresh and open for verdant return of moss, of life renewed from rain. And on my bare feet I’ll be wearing the comfort of the season, new verdant green mossy boot socks, plush and double thick, two yarns held together merino socks that I cast on at the June Solstice, and knit slowly & purposefully all summer long, while oppressed by sweltering heat and choking smoke. Soon the air will clear and crisp and be again glorious!
(Click 1st image below and see slideshow my walk from the afternoon. )
Pattern: Walking With Emma socks
Yarn: Knit Picks Stroll, charcoal and bamboo, held together throughout.
Project Details: Solstice Socks
It is at last the Summer Solstice and I am so happy to be knitting in the wild again. And what a better way than with a pair of socks, on this longest day of the year, when because the sun is blaringly bright and hot, and the shadows reluctant to be seen, I have waited until the hazy late hours of the afternoon. Chores are done; bread baked, coffee roasted, laundry on the line, dinner in the pot, and so I’m scampering along my little trail, navigating over, under, around still falling burned trees . . .
Rather hidden paths I have every intention to keep maintained by walking, but so much work to get them established, especially through the now drying & stickery meadowy woods.
I have wanted to try two fine fingering yarns held together in a sock, for a color rich tweedy affect and thick and downy merino soft too. So I am knitting speedily along with only 50 stitches in a pair of Walking With Emma socks, in Chart B which has an easy 1×1 rib cuff flowing into a wider & longer rib. I’ll work rib then with an inch left to the leg, switch to stockinette for the rest of the sock. The counting of this particular rib is so natural for me, with odd numbers of knit & purl; (knit) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 — (purl) 1 — 1, 2, 3 — 1. A sturdy snug little sock to slip into my garden sloggers to go down and water the garden, and this sock will be the “vanilla sock” I’ve been waiting to try, because sometimes the artful is in the plain & simple. I will talk more about the yarn later, but I’m loving this moss green and grey stone colorway by the way! Oh, and I am knitting these on metal circulars, for although I fell in love late in life, with hardwood dpns (double pointed needles), the circulars allow me to just trip along on the trail without worrying about pulling a needle out or breaking or snagging my dpns in my knitting bag. And I really must confess, that I seriously need a break from the Pile O’ Yokes, which are now becoming yokes with bodies and sleeves. Anyway, its summer and I want to start knit-walking again, something it seems I’m always having to “start over” again, which is silly, but in order to pull myself away to get out on the trail and still get knitting done I really need a project I can not think about, something I can walk over logs, and under fallen trees, and not drop a stitch. Something that I can rattle off fast and furiously and shake off all that ails me!
Happy Summer Solstice!
Walking along a foggy path in the late afternoon, in late Autumn, I observe the season expiring after the heavy rain last week. Everything seems to be falling to the ground, exhausted. Soon there will be new grass popping up.
The last of the gold leaves wave in the breeze, as if to say “I’m tired, and it is time to go”, and the vines surely have given all their energy growing grapes for 2019 Harvest, and will wait bare until pruning time in late winter, leaving the trellises standing like soldiers in a winter field.
The stinging needles on the star thistle rot and become harmless, muted into the dull brown grass.
The fog surely lays burden to the spider webs, and even though nature is bedding down, the creatures are stirring.
The oaks are shedding leaves and covering the ground, another layer of compost for the soil, two years after the wildfire is nothing less than a treasure.
Yet some of what was dormant is now waking up, becoming lush, verdant, alive, as is the story of the moss.
So near to the solstice, I believe this little foggy outing has put me in the mood for more walking and writing, for it is at these times when I most intensely feel my existence. Rituals of coffee and chores, punctuated with knitting, walks, short naps, and contemplative writing, are my comfort as I get older. Peaceful and nearly silent my days tumble over one another, seemingly inconsequential, but if only to witness my landscape as it goes through the seasons. And I am happy it is so.
I was out early this morning walking, before I got a chance to get carried away with projects. This Autumn I am recommitting to getting out and walking as I use to do, since about the time when I first started this blog. Each time I go out into the changing landscape I feel its healing influence in me as it ebbs back to health from the wildfire, the prolific growth on the branches and at the stumps of burned trees everywhere remind me of a vibrant desire for life, even though so many trees must give in to lifelessness.
I walk alone, without distraction, listening to the grasses sway and the browning leaves shake in the breeze, and as I walk it feels like I am turning stones along the way, seeing glimpses of my past, unavoidable as I’ve walked these very steps and places so many times before. This landscape has seen lifetimes of people walking along here in the very same places, back to the indigenous race who’s arrowheads I have found, and sometimes it is as though I walk through time, feeling the ancient geography and the presence of walkers of an ancient time. Or maybe I will feel happy Emma as a puppy in her explosive energy, or a friend I walked with once . . . all whispers in the wild.
Everyday I need to be out in the wild, knitting to keep my hands busy, but sensitive and pondering, ready to let tears fall if they want, or a new exciting idea take hold, whichever seems to be inevitable for the moment. I am determined to see the landscape change to normal again, and it is what I consider to be the best thing for me, and when I get home I make a cup of coffee and get things done, and all the while I let myself be swept along by the knitted stitches, and that is as good as it gets.
We’ve spent two nights so far in the new house, so we’ve officially moved in, even though the construction mess is ongoing, we’re all just happy to be finally home. Now I’m busy cleaning out the tiny house to its former glory before two humans, a dog, and countless spiders inhabited it for seventeen months, while Jeff continues the finish building. I woke this morning early and watched the rose-gold sunrise, while Emma in her Help’emUp harness acclimates to the new front porch, as that was one of her favorite places before, where she use to spend hours napping in the early mornings.
This morning I went for a first walk from new home into the nearby vineyard. Its harvest in the California Highlands, and the grapes up on the mountain are ripening to perfection.
We are back home, it is Autumn, and life is good.
Out walking I see the Mayacamas mountains rolling southerly down into their foothills.
I am enjoying Autumn now that the leaves are beginning to cover
the blackened forest floor from last year
This sparse ground cover is only the beginning of the leaf fall,
they will continue to flutter down until winter is here.
I woke today after having seemingly dreamed almost consciously about a new fresh start in life walking a little more every day, away from stress of the wildfire, restoring a positive feeling about myself and my life, so that when the house is finally ready for us to move into it, I will be rebuilt too. Its been a rough year for me, hands down, and I have existed in a self spun cocoon trying to not think about the stressful things, but I really do believe committing to walking increased distances will cure all that is wrong in my world. Just one walk at a time.
Introducing the Hillwalker sweater duo…
(and photographed with my walking stick!)
I have now finished both the pullover and the cardigan,
and that means Hillwalker is now two patterns for one download !
♣ ♣ ♣
Today is the one-year anniversary of the historic Northern California Firestorm which burned through two counties and thousands of homes, including our own. Such an anniversary of loss seems to be a time to test resilience, rising above hardship, and moving beyond the grief toward healing happier times. As I walk on the mountain, I feel the loss, and regrowth in such an overwhelming way.
There are so many dead trees, but surprisingly, there are many that are alive.
This Autumn comes as a relief, now I can focus on what is ahead, and what is new, fresh, and positive. Life is short, its over in a blink, and we have every ability to control our attitude. I’ve learned one very important thing through the experience of this last year, and that is the only thing we can truly own is our attitude, and the accomplishments of our mind. The rest is just material & prone to ashes.
♣ ♣ ♣
Its the last days of summer, finally. I thought I’d never get through them.
The Autumn Equinox is near, and I thought I’d enjoy a nice afternoon walk up the ridge and take some photos of the landscape in the waning summer.
Wild peas continuing to bloom unusually late…
As I got higher up the ridge where the bad burn is,
I notice so many sprouted trees, as this baby knob cone pine, about 8 inches tall …
Sprouted right beneath the scorched parent tree, full of pine cones….
In a blink it will be the Autumnal Equinox , only four days! Knowing I am near to being in a far better place mentally with the anniversary of the wildfire so soon to pass, I am so very eager to be grateful again and excited about life’s good things.
Jeff has built a bridge from logs he salvaged from the loggers’ waste, and he hoisted them cross across the small gully which heads over to the garden in now what I am calling “the path of least resistance” with planks nailed to the top from old boards, it is an excellent & rustic installment to the woods and I am super pleased with it! I helped only minimally, as I did the original “wedding bridge” which was burned in the wildfire. A new bridge & my sooty knitting trail has of this morning been improved inexpressibly for the better! Emma inspected & approved…
There eventually will be builders at work making their presence felt in my quiet seclusion, and this lovely little bridge continues me my private trail out to the garden without having to walk up the road to the house where the chaos will be going on, and down to the garden from there. Planning ahead brilliantly! A short-cut to the garden, a bridge to bliss, a bridge across difficult terrain, so metaphorical. The garden is life, and inspires me in its quiet little way with bees bobbing about, fluttering butterflies, and small little birds bathing in various bowls and cups sitting about, as well as a fat wild dove flocks bombing about on occasion… tall seedy foxgloves still standing through the perpetual heat. I chase away the drought with my series of old-timey sprinklers, sitting beside them in the mist as I soak in the moist air and knit. It is a very rustic & secluded spot of calm, where one is really fairly hidden away.
I am trying to settle into a productive life of a busy recluse, and I have been thinking about things. Post trauma disorder has changed things a bit. I will very likely never get over that day of wildfire, for at that time forward is etched into the rhythm of how I experience life, and its injury as much a part of me now as anything could be. That blink of time when I hurriedly drove off in my car with Emma, my mandolin, recordings of my music compositions, a small box of photos, and a few clothes, my computer, and a tote full of my needles & favorite yarns to keep me busy in the days following — while instantly regretting other things which I forgot, so much from my life. Those things which seemed to define me were suddenly gone, especially those rooms, spaces which were integral to my happiness.
But let me tell you how I’ve been thinking about things, about feeling glad and comfortable with realizing that the only real thing I can ever own, and the only thing which defines me, are my accomplishments. So that is why I strive to live the busy life of a hermit in newly built hermitage, and the rooms will be far less cluttered and intriguingly sparse, so that I can build on my accomplishments. My family, and short list of close friends will allow me this reclusive life. I would like to add that I appreciate all of my pen friends from around the globe with whom I have kept company and shared my days in a more secluded way, I am ever so immensely grateful to my knitting fraternity!
♥ ♥ ♥
This morning we got out earlier than we have been.
I am hiking solo now, but sometimes I’ll drive up the road a little ways and give Emma a ride, then she waits in the car in a nice shady spot.
She still looks so healthy, but she does not like to walk very far. Isn’t she just beautiful?
Today I had my Nikon and took some photos of regrowth in the landscape. New shoots emerging prolifically from burned trees everywhere!
The wildfire burned so much foliage and shrubs on the ridge that I’ve been finding old dump sites and old roads long abandoned too, but mostly, trees are making a come-back , and the flowers bloomed as ever before…
On the way back to our Tiny House, stopping where our house “was”. Do you recognize the landscape beyond that I so often photographed from our deck?
Many trees I am finding , are still alive with green crowns, so all is not lost. In fact, the big black oak which shaded our house and most of the deck in the heat of the summer afternoon, was so badly burned we thought no chance, but now it has green sprouting out of ash-grey trunk! The wildfire brings so much perspective about potential of regeneration, that I must witness this as I walk through the seasons. I’ve put all my focus on the hill before me, and knitting as I go.
Life is good.
In the last weeks I’ve been frequently knitting at the Oakville Grocery cafe to quell life’s blues. Just a quiet little deli & espresso place on the highway with vineyard views in all directions, and with picnic benches in the back where I can bathe in the morning winter sun while making progress toward the finish of a new pattern. And Emma and I are getting out a little bit for (mostly short) walks on the ridge.
Although it appears the walk up the ridge has lost it’s charm completely, I am trying to embrace it, hoping for better days ahead and the mysterious healing power of Spring. Other blues: An intensely blue sky over Oakville on Sunday. A blue balloon descended from the sky, tangled in the woods, omen-like. My blue knitting bag hung on a burned branch while walking up the ridge. Need I mention the blue knitting with cappuccino? I would like to see some blue wildflowers soon. Oh but hey, the vernal equinox is only a week away!
Went for a stroll out in the drizzling rain, and took a few photos into the veil of mist.
The mist softens the blackened soil, but the grass is growing up through it in the open spaces now, hovering over and caressing the wound of the wildfire.
I am feeling a nearly unperceivable whispering heartbeat of optimism …
… as if life might still be good after all, in spite of itself.
From this , to this…
Just before harvest, a few years ago, a regionally famous mountain vineyard ‘next door’ was sold. The bordering woods, meadows, and canyon cliffs, as well as bumpy old connecting roads between the quiet & quaint old vineyard clearings were my favorite places to walk with Emma, and we had to abandon it. I go into more detail in this post, but I am trying to focus on the new replanted growth now.
For an epic pause in the life of this mountain landscape there has been rattling machinery disking the earth, pounding great big steel things into the ground, deep trenching miles for drainage, electric conduit, irrigation, erecting a water tank the size of a house…. the usual sprawling construction project of a corporation taken over a couple of hundred acres with jeeps & four-wheelers buzzing about everywhere all of the time.
But now there is a calm.
Eventually, and ever so gradually, nature softens the work of men, and this mountain vineyard is whispering of spring growth again.
Since the original design “Vineyard Rows Tam” I have been off & on playing with a series of designs all conceived as tribute to the memory of the beautiful historic vines which were destroyed and the natural wildness of the place that I loved. Onward. Early this last winter I designed Winemakers Waistcoat, honoring the history of California’s industry in wine, but most recently I have felt a sort of turning about of attitudes; away from a yearning tribute to the past, toward a hope for the future in this place, and maybe even that I sense the presence of the wilderness returning. At least a little bit.
My most recent design, as yet only one mitt, and no pattern yet written, expresses this with motifs of trellises and budding vines eager to branch and fill the expanse. I am sharing with you my latest design a little prematurely, but what the heck…
The mitts design is an evolving prototype, but here it is nestled into an ensemble with the other two in my Vineyard Rows series.
Just waving hello to everybody with this one mitt, as I immerse myself in a hopeful spring, and lots of knit-trekking up the mountain (yes, past the vineyard) on the way to the peak…
I hope you are all enjoying this transformative season!
We have been walking through the morning hours of Autumn. Miles of yarn and prints of dog paws, and shoes, side by side. More chaotically spaced actually, mine straight forward, destination ahead, focused on the rounds of lace, of sleeves, of precious warm cardigans, and Emma’s prints with her own agenda, as the wild life is speaking to her and new smells are exciting her in zig-zag directions and renewed vigor giving her incentive to come up to the peak with me these days.
Our walks journey through Autumn, with the arrival of rain, we seem to be experiencing a gradual awakening of our dormant selves, as is with the succulent green mosses everywhere … our joy of joys.
To the peak we have walked a few times this Autumn already. On the ridge right before the peak, like a comfortable old bed, there is a soft pine needle layer from an eerie forest of stick-like old trees composting on the jutting toothy rock beneath … it is so dreamy to walk through, I just had to hang my knitting on it and be silly.
Everything is in its place, and life is good.
Went out for a lovely knitting walk in the late afternoon today, and caught the golden fields at their height and most fragrant as the rain has come, and it won’t be long before they become dull and brown and beaten down by the strong winds up here on the ridge.
Leaves falling along one of our newer trails, a shortcut home through the edge of black oak woods (can you see the sticks ahead which mark the path?). Emma and I have really upped our game, and are walking religiously since day one of Autumn , and I’m knitting bunches as we walk. Grateful that Autumn has greeted us with some cool weather and…. did I mention that it rained last night? Everything is in its place, and life is good.
Happy Autumn Equinox everyone! It is in recent years, my favorite day of the year. This morning the equinox occurred at 7:21 in the morning, and I planned to get to my secret knitting spot on one of my trails, overlooking a vineyard and hazy Mt Diablo in the distance, only about a ten-minute walk from my door at the most. Here are some more photos of our little early morning walk out to greet the new season…
Emma enjoyed the scent of the fresh wildlife tracks from the night, and I enjoyed the brilliant angled light fuzzing through the trees. We then reached our secret spot on time, about 7:20, here standing on the big stump of a very large fir, gives a wonderful vantage point of the area we live in.
The light at sunrise had an amber glow and the air is cool. I thoroughly love this little loop in the woods next to my house, at first light. Tomorrow and often in the days following, I think I will come here to greet the sunrise and feel Autumn’s transitory beauty. Perhaps a thermos of tea and sit on the stump here, knit, and thoroughly enjoy the season as the leaves slowly turn.
I also have a little new knitting going on, but I won’t give details for another week or so…
Enjoy your first-day-of-Autumn and happy knitting!
Early this morning I walked to my secret hidden knitting spot which from a neighboring high mountain vineyard overlooks a landscape of beautiful mountain ridges. I caught the sun illuminating the gold on vines, and maple trees, a lovely sight which always takes my breath away. Oh look! Hot air balloons making their way from the valley floor up the side of the mountain!
This morning, I managed to get a shrouded view of the majestic Mt Diablo in the background. Can you see it there, in the foggy atmosphere?
This one is from yesterday morning, with the rather strikingly deco-esque water tank. . .
The forested paths seem to sparkle now with golden leaves falling from the trees to the ground, I just love to knit while wandering over these paths which meander through the rustic forest.
The chill of Autumn has begun to take hold. We’ve had some rain with more on the way, and the landscape is now turning shades of gold-to-crimson… and with shy sprouts of grasses coming up! These weeks have been busy for me, as I’ve managed to make a string of six new patterns in a relatively short space~~ Altitude Cowls and Mitts (the last being the Twist Mitts)
Its time for walks shuffling through rustling leaves, fires in the wood-stove, and the kettle whistling as mugs are filled and sipped throughout the day ((my new favorite is fresh ginger tea!)) . . . and of course knitting till the cows come home for holiday gifts. Being already past mid-November there are only a short five weeks left to this year, but I am working steady on the designing as well as keeping a firm hold on the homestead.
Hoping lots of merriment to you this coming Thanksgiving Holiday!
I have managed in an all-out flurry to design & knit these Ridges mitts!
An addition to Altitude Ridges Cowl, Ridges Mitts are pretty monumental in that they set precedent for additional hand accessories for two remaining of All Three Cowls.
So now I’ll leave you with lots of photos from our hike up to the peak this morning. This photo taken from my latest secret rock outcropping near the peak, facing northerly and overlooking from the ridge in the direction of middle Napa Valley (around Yountville & Oakville)
On the way down from the peak, this panorama overlooking southerly at distant San Francisco Bay Area (left of center) and Mt. Tamalpais (right of center) . . . and if you look closely. . .
you’ll see buildings rising up through fog, behind the distorted mirage-like zoom view over the bay and marsh land , and you can see the city of San Francisco itself which is about 50 miles away by crow.
Beyond that, Autumn is picking up it’s pace here, and getting the first real blustery cold day for the mountain. Emma and I have been walking a lot more mornings in the week to the peak, and enjoying ourselves thoroughly.
Oh , I forgot to mention, the first photo at the top of post right at the start of hike, looking South East in the direction of Mt. Diablo (the double-crested mountains) Of course, the purpose of this morning’s photo-hike was to capture my local ridges to accompany latest pattern ~ Altitude Ridges Mitts !
It has been a lovely morning up here on the mountain. Fog at sunrise, cool, crisp, breathing freshness into an otherwise stagnant stillness of our drying Northern California landscape. I feel as if my life has evolved into a new level of wild, as the days are punctuated mostly by the wildlife, or occasional trips into town, and the coming and going of ‘the man’. Summer brings chickadees and hornets and straggling tough kinds of wildflowers, but mostly a platinum landscape of dry grasses, and oppressive stickery burrs along the trails which are a true pain to have to endure picking off of one’s self, and one’s dog’s fur. No wonder we have been lazy lately.
The dog and I decided to adventure up & out this morning, and so after weeks upon weeks of very little walking, we made it to the top. Once near the top on the sharp and narrow knife-edge, the actual geological ridge cresting at a width of barely six feet wide in sections, and covered in young knobcone pines, makes a lovely path to follow….
A cliff drop to the east is Napa Valley, and a rolling descent to the west is Sonoma Valley, and from up here one can nearly feel the mountain’s spirit, as if the rock is slowly cutting through centimeter by centimeter, not stagnant but alive, with an energy about it which is luring, beckoning one to get the reward of being at the top. It is a special place the peak, at 2600 feet, and it really is almost less than a half-hour walk from our house if we hoof it, so we vowed to each other to get our lazy selves up there a lot more than we have, Emma and me.
Back at home, deliciously overcast clouds, and a breeze kicking up. While Emma continues her napping, I’m at the drawing board again on a new design, its endless calculations, and with delicious cup of coffee.
I’ll leave you with a little slideshow of nice shots from our walk, and wish you all well until next time…
Emma and I were out for our morning walk but it was different today, it was deliciously foggy. To end a seven-week-long warm dry spell of this winter so far, we are due to get hammered with a big storm tonight. A storm which is absolutely longed for … so I figured we’d go out and take some photos in the drizzling fog and cooling air. On the way up the ridge there was a pleasant surprise ~~ all the manzanita is peaking in blossom !
One of the attractions of this time of year in Northern California mountains is the precious heart-shaped and very fragrant blossoming Arctostaphylos, or as we know it, manzanita. There are mainly two indigenous species which thrive side-by-side up on this mountain, and the most distinct difference is seen this time of year, when they blossom. One has pink blossoms, and the other white …
Otherwise their form is very similar, but their leaves are also quite distinctive also. I just love to bury my face into a cluster of these sweet blossoms and inhale their fragrance. . .
At the top of the ridge, Emma sniffed and I knitted as we meandered along the knife-edge where to the north-east is Napa Valley, and to the south-west is Sonoma Valley. Just sniffing and knitting our way along.
And then finally we reach the summit, and breathe in the cloud .
We’re out a lot these days hiking & knitting, so we won’t mind staying indoors while enjoying the lashing rain forecast for the next few days. I’ll be posting more as the tail end of winter bursts into action in the next weeks, on the mountain and on my needles!
Oh how the last of the leaves are stubbornly hanging on to their twigs,
and they land sometimes seeming reluctantly so …
Tomorrow a huge rain storm is on it’s way, to hit in the night and thrash for a couple of days. I have a hill-walking date in the morning with a friend, and we’ll go come hell or high-water!
On the knitting front, all is going well, more photos in days ahead of finished happy endings of knitterly things, bathed in wintery light of day, but for now, a sneak peek of what appears to be a candy roll of some tasty tartan & tweedy thing…
I’ve been knitting an insane amount lately. This is a big part of my life, who I am slowly becoming, and I love how I’m involved in it. Just now I was feverishly working a swatch for a new idea, and I looked out the window to my beloved mist pouring over the ridge from the Pacific, and remembered that I promised myself to disengage after my last pattern (Penny Candy Winter)… to calm down and enjoy what is left of Autumn, and walk in it every single day. Well, today was one of those rare days I didn’t . Up here in the California Highlands we’re getting rain, oh yes…
… and now two months into Autumn in the mountains and we’re saturated in the mist and rain and the moss is vibrant and I am happy. So happy! One month left of delicious Autumn to wander and watch the turning of the trees.
My Autumn project is to overhaul a few of my earlier patterns and so I feel at a restless in-between place presently. I’m finished with the last pattern overhaul & update of Dicey Highland Hats, and now have a pause before starting the next big thing. I’m trying to be a good person and cook a nice quiche for dinner, while doing chores, and at the same time I just want to knit ! Knit!! Knit!!! But I must force myself to stop knitting, to quiet my mind and my racing ideas, and to look around me, because I find that the creative source does need to be rested and nurtured equally as much as it needs to be exercised and developed. Answers come in the void spaces most often, let the mist into the mind to obscure the sharpness, and to let my thoughts have a good rest.
Greeting the long shadows of morning as the sun’s rays shot through the pines on the crest of the ridge…
Capturing the sun streaming through black oak leaves soon to fall …Greeted the Sleeping Princess (Mt Tamalpais) as she lay like rolling blue ocean waves in the distance…
And Mt. Diablo as we started up, a stones throw from the house… and you can see the yellow patches in the trees where there is Autumnal color starting.
At the rocky top, another view across the ridges which frame the upper Napa Valley …
Most of all we enjoyed the contemplative early morning trek, with bright morning sun, mountain air, and knitting all going so perfectly together I think. Looking forward to another like it each day this Autumn, as we have been out nearly every single day . Turning of the season continues to be wonderful this way. Life is good.
We’ve continued our walks nearly everyday this Autumn.
Out in the freshly rained-on moss, and romping around and smelling things.
( Emma tends to like to stick her whole head into tree caves…)
The really remarkable thing is, that while we were walking in the woods, I was knitting the very colors of the moss on oak bark, and it took me by surprise how much I reflect the colors of my surroundings.
Knitting in nature is one of the things I love to do most of all.
And now just back from a walk, out rather late we went up the ridge a little ways, by the high vineyard, (um… which is sorely lacking a vineyard for the present)…
Then we turned around , and went into the woods. Here , knitting poised on a log, and with not much progress from the last photo of it….
Then we decided to explore and left the trail, began crawling through and over all sorts of things, collecting all sorts of burrs and stuff in our hair, to scout out new places.
Oh look! Another huge mushroom growing from a dead tree!
… we ended up at a rather tall henge-like rock out-cropping I did not recognize.
(I’ll take another photo of this place another time soon, in the mist, for affect).
Seriously though, with different angles to the familiar places, I thought there for a few minutes we were lost. (not really that would be rather impossible) A glance easterly and I see Mt Diablo in the distance, a good bearing.
Sure enough, after scrambling through a few bushes, there it was !
A great little secret picnic & knitting spot, wouldn’t you say?
Have you been out on any walks this Autumn yet?
Emma and I have been out walking (and I knitting while walking) everyday this Autumn so far, and plan to walk everyday for the remainder of Autumn, bringing camera and sharing photos often here and celebrate the best time of year ! Harvest is in process, finished in this particular vineyard a stone’s throw from where we live. We passed it along our forest paths near by. Then Emma spied a big yellow fungus !!!
On through hilly & hollow lands we walk….
And just around this bend (from the opposite direction of last hike posted) we end up back home …
I know two posts in one day. Its just that I wanted to share with you all my first walk of Autumn. We were out in the early hourse on this first morning of Autumn, knitting while hiking about the woods a bit, then hauling on up the ridge to the peak of the mountain (at 2600′ elevation.) There were beautiful views of the distant ridges along the way up. Mt. Diablo in the distance, rather southerly (to the right behind the trees)…
Then higher up, looking more westerly, a grand shot of Mt. Tamalpais, named by the indigenous Native Americans meaning “Sleeping Princess” (did you know Mt Tam is where mountain-biking was invented?) …
Then at the peak, overlooking Napa Valley, easterly, and the sun was already high …
We went down our favorite well-trodden paths on the way home…
and our favorite short-cut deer trails…
I hope your start of Autumn (or Spring) is equally as happy as mine.
What are you up to?
We three ~ Jeff, Emma, & me ~ went for a short & sweet trip to High Sierras over the weekend for our anniversary. There was a little hiking, cooking, tea & coffee drinking, fishing & knitting, sniffing around….
Restorative in many ways, as always, the alpine scenery soothed a yearning that only it can do. What is it about pitching a tent in the wilderness at high altitude to claim some spot in nature as our home for a few days?
Something about the fragile alpine flowers …
and gnarled trees.
fast and furious rain storms …
The granite everywhere and deep crystal clear blue lakes …
wide horizon of jagged ridges and expressive skies.
A storm is brewing!
Windy thunder & rain storms which suddenly take hold for a couple of hours in the afternoon,
sending us for cover in our cozy tent to wait it out.
Granite Lake in Mokelumne Wilderness was just what I craved. Bundled up quite puffy in down and wool layers, knitting in the cold & windy pause between storms …
Abandoned my knitting to go fire up the camp stove and make hot coffee!
Jeff got to fish a couple of times, though he didn’t get even one bite, too stormy.
Then it was time for trail coffee & tea !!!
We found that Emma was perfectly able to handle carrying a doggie pack and hike as she did once before, and it was as if her little arthritic limp of late almost disappeared completely.
She is in top form !
Most importantly, this trip to the Sierras was to celebrate a very important mark in our partnership,
We were so lucky to have Granite Lake all to ourselves, at near 9000′ elevation & less than three miles from the trail-head. It is my theory that the forecast dramatic thunderstorms cleared the lake for us. We were prepared to hike cross-country (off-trail) to another lake for privacy, but had no need, it was a total stroke of luck.
With only a little over 3 hour drive, we can be in the High Sierra, fishing & knitting at a granite bowl. It just doesn’t get any better than that ! Off we go back home, but we’ll be back . . .
The High Sierras beckon us this year on our anniversary. Last time we went, Jeff, Emma & I had a great time , it was in the Inyo National Forest of the High Sierras, on the McGee Pass trail, hovering around 10,000 – 12,000′ elevation. This (slightly blurry) photo was taken while walking along a meadow on the trail, and it was in fact the last backpack trip I was on. Emma was a two-year-old packing puppy and that was seven years ago. Ages !
That trip was a stunning one, a beauty for sure, but I’m not feeling very confident in my packing abilities at all now. Though Jeff has promised me that we will go slowly and not far, for if I am going to want to backpack regularly ~ again ~ it is important that Emma and I do not get whipped by the trek. Emma is already a little bit limpy with onset arthritis, and I’m not much better, worried about carrying a pack for any distance.
But hey , the altitude & elements I can handle ! How can I not crave to sit and knit for hours with camp coffee by high mountain lakes such as these . . .
Fact is, I can’t wait !!! But just to give perspective, here’s a photo of me taken around 1990, during very likely my first backpack trip, resting & reading in camp over a glacier-melt filled bowl far below in the backdrop ~ Lake Ana in Trinity Alps . . .
So interesting that being in the really high mountains has been such a part of me for as long as I can remember. Jeff and I are making a vow of sorts, to go regularly again, and this is a bit of a kick-start trek. Well folks, its time for me to go pull out all of my packing gear and assemble things ~ knitting included ~ see you all on the flip-side. Sierra Nevada mountains, here we come.
Recently Emma had a birthday ! She is nine. Every year on her birthday I take her for a long walk and follow her wherever she wants to go. There was a rather hesitant beginning as she contemplated what was down the road…
Then after we walked all over the place, unexpected places she led me, and I followed without question. As our walk ended she found herself mesmerized in the sun beams of the forest, a little spellbound perhaps. There’s lots to think about when one is Nine.
For those of you who have been visiting Yarnings for any length of time, know about my Knitting Trail, I talked about a while ago in this post. I am gradually putting it all together, this spot and that, through forest and wood, through hilly and hollow lands.
Such a beautiful warm spring day!
Some silly photos as I try in vain to get a portrait selfie photo of Emma & me, but Emma was reluctant …
And a little knitting happened too …
Emma and I took off for a walk along the old road, and then on the knitting trail to visit the woods with the green moss which is now absolutely glowing from all the rain.
I have to say, of the many oddities one can find in the woods, this was the most ! I intend to include it in a knitwear photo someday.
Well, it’s back to my knitting loft, with a new design adventure and happy pots of tea, for the sky is greying and rain drops are already plopping down on the roof again. Happiness is rain. Lots and lots of rain.
((And tea with home-made shortbread.))
It has rained for four days unending.
(A few glimpses from the knitting trail.)
I’m overjoyed because finally the moss on the mountain has drunk it’s fill.
Emma and I went out and soaked ourselves taking account of it all.
Now green can sprout from under last year’s brown . . .
Beautiful morning after rain . . .
Life is good.
Finally we got some rain, making it a lovely break from the dryest Autumn in many years. Emma and I just got in from a little knit-walk as it drizzled, but I didn’t bring camera in case it started to downpour. So here I am, taking photos of the wetness from inside our house. From the kitchen window above. Just look at the moss, just drinking it in . . .
From where I sit & knit by the window, and if you look closely you’ll see some stones placed in a path. That is actually the path down to the garden, but also it is part of my knitting trail, which goes off into the woods from the garden in a northerly direction . . .
On the knitting front: I have been preoccupied with a new yarn ~ here winding off 440 yards of a ‘Botticelli Red’, variegated, 3-plied, hand-dyed hank of finest sock yarn I’ve had the pleasure to knit with to date. I am smitten with Malabrigo sock yarn!
I so wanted to show you this photo taken early today ! It was a windy and cold November morning as Emma and I walked over to our newest (hidden & secret) scenic location, which we discovered only last week from trail-blazing. Here, this morning, happy to greet the young vines, and a south-easterly horizon with distant blue Mt Diablo’s double peak of 3,864 feet visible from where I stood — on a big tree stump, est. elevation of 2100 ft, on a slope facing San Francisco Bay. ( Note, this is not the same vineyards wherein great devastation of historic vines is going on, but a different vineyard. ) By all means, click the photo, and see it full-sized !
* * *
Ahem** I have nearly finished my fourth redesign of the project in natural shades of Jamiesons Spindrift. It is quite an embarrassment to think I was near done, over a week ago, then to have to start over, then over again, and well… it’s a sore subject… but a labor of love and true break-through for me in design, as well as expected set-backs. If I survive this week at all, I will have something to show for all of my determination. I am sure by now you’ve all guessed the theme to have something to do with vineyards.