Yarns - Knitting on The Rocks

       I'm back from a vacation in the Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York.  Still unpacking and putting things away from moving.  My front porch with a lovely blooming perennial garden keeps on drawing me away.  I still need to tend it and plant some plants of my own.  I dream of Bee Balm and Lavender.

      Here's some pictures from my trip.  Too long, in the sense of I love being home.  Too short because I love the Adirondacks.  I could of sat forever in front of a waterfall I hiked into.  Staring at the falls, the rich foliage, the impossible height of the rocks, while spray hit my face.

     This was my dream this past winter to hike into Rainbow Falls.  It's a short hike, but for me who could barely walk this winter, it was a dream come true.  Thankfully a new hip a few months back made it possible.  I still had to slide on my rump on some of the large rocks I had to climb to get up there and back.  Especially coming back, with moss and spray making everything slippery.  But I sat for a few hours with lunch, my book and my knitting, of course.  I hated to leave my sanctuary of mist, rolling waters, hanging ferns and blue sky above.  I can hear it now, embedded in my memory.  Next year.

  

     Wishing I was back in camp.  Sitting in front of the fire inside while it rained; or like the last night, in front of a fire pit outside, in front of a lean to with all my children around me and their loves there too.  Couldn't I just capture the moments forever and never let go?  Remembering the last glimpse of my son's and girlfriend Emily's Adirondack boat as they rowed away the last morning.  It's captured in my mind.  Then when I got back to the vacation house, there was homemade jam for me from them and a sketch by Emily of their boat.  Captured memories.

     The whole time I knitted on my Spring Ardent Shawl, a design by Janina Kallio.  Made in Malabrigo Mechita in the color Indiecita. 

      My book I started reading in Colorado - Fall of Giants (The Century Trilogy, Book 1) by Ken Follett, but it was too big to pack.  A large paperback I had gotten years ago at a sale for a $1.  So, thinking I'm smart, I called the local small library where I was going and asked them to set it aside for me.  Two days later my daughter goes and comes back and says it's not there!  So sad.  It really had hooked me.  So wandering up to the Bunkhouse's bookcase, filled with lots of varieties of books, there it was!  It comes in handy my family has similar tastes.  So I grabbed the already very beat up book (obviously it had already been on some Adirondack adventures), and I've added to it's beaten up nature.  I'll be returning it next year (I promise), it's a nice small size for my hands.  So, now I catch myself getting mad at why WWI started.  I have to remind myself that my Grandfather who was born in 1905 wasn't in that war and 4 generations have gone by since then and they died 100 years ago.  But, I still get angry.  Have I mentioned it's a real good book?

Happy Knitting!