Birds, flowers, and sweaters

I had fun watching this chickadee (at five o'clock on the metal wreath) the other day. I'd hung some scrap yarn on the wreath, thinking the birds might enjoy including some of it in their new nests

Sure enough, this chickadee spotted the yarn and worked feverishly on one particular strand of gray yarn, separating the fibers to make a soft bedding for her/his nest.

Personally, I would have chosen one of the brighter colors of yarn for my nest, but apparently this bird decorates in muted colors, which is never a bad idea.

As you can see from my header, the flowering crabapple tree has burst into full bloom. I was hoping it would do that this weekend, and sure enough, it did. My lilac trees are developing lots of buds, so it should be a good year for lilacs. That is, if a heavy rainy spell doesn't come along just as the blossoms are opening. That has happened a few times in the past, and it's always disappointing. To me, lilacs are the official herald of summer.

I saw my male cardinal at the feeder this week. Still no sign of the female, though.

I noticed yesterday that the many patches of wild violets are in bloom.

Speaking of violets, this is my latest knitting project, a February Lady sweater for myself. The yarn color is called "violet," but it looks more like blue to me.

My next knitting project will be this, a Peasy sweater. I downloaded the pattern yesterday and am just itching to get at it. The only thing holding me back is lack of yarn. From all the comments on this pattern at Ravelry, Peasy should be a fairly easy knit. Easier than building a bird's nest, probably.

Malady, flowers, surveys

I was hoping to have something witty and fascinating to share on my blog today, but alas....

I've come down with some kind of ailment, confined to my throat, and it's wearing me down. I first noticed I was getting a sore throat last Tuesday, so I'm about to celebrate the one-week anniversary of whatever this is. It has drained my energy and given me coughing fits.

I'm sure I'll survive, but I do wish it would leave me alone and move elsewhere, but not necessarily on to another unsuspecting victim.

I took a few photos in my flower gardens this afternoon, after attacking some weeds (dandelions, mainly) with a dose of cider vinegar. It's great stuff for killing weeds and is non-toxic to the environment.

My weeping cherry tree is outdoing itself this spring. This is the best blooming it has produced since we planted it about six years ago.

The cluster of primroses by the rock is up to its usual flamboyance.

Ditto for the Solomon's Seal, which I almost always call "Solomon's Tears" by mistake. I guess the little hanging bell-shaped flowers remind me of tears.

As I was lying on the sofa a minute ago, feeling sorry for myself, the phone rang. It was someone conducting a political survey. The lady assured me the survey would take "just a few minutes."

First she asked me general questions about my preference in a gubernatorial candidate. I answered them but asked again how much longer the survey would take.

She assured me again that she had "just a few more questions" and asked that I please "stay with" her. Then she started asking a series of questions a specific candidate for governor.

Perhaps this doesn't sound like a big deal, but here's the situation: Just about every citizen in the State of Maine, or so it seems, has taken out nomination papers to become governor.

After I'd answered all of the callers questions about candidate #1, she then moved on to candidate #2. Suddenly, finally, I could see where this was headed.

I apologized for having no more time to devote to the survey, then I hung up.

I feel kind of guilty now, because she was only doing her job, but the survey was taking at least fifteen minutes of my time, probably more.

The folks who develop telephone surveys need to take a course in brevity as the route to snagging willing survey respondents.

And now I'm headed back to the sofa.

Who'da thunk it?

As long as I've known Ken, and for many years before we met, he has dreamed of some day building a 1915 Model T speedster.

He has collected parts for this dream car since he was in high school. (The first time I visited his bachelor pad, in fact, I was shocked, to put it mildly, to see that his idea of interior decorating was to mount an antique steering wheel on his living room wall.) He has carried boxes of car parts to our first home (a rental), to our first purchased home, and to this home.

He has gone to abandoned junk yards, antique shops, flea markets, and the big antique auto extravaganza in Hershey, PA, all the while accumulating just about everything his imaginary speedster would need.

He has built parts that he couldn't find: the front fenders, the tool box, etc.

He has refinished and painted old parts that needed spiffing up.

Meanwhile, over the years of our marriage, he has built two garage/workshops, finished off two bedrooms and a bathroom, built a family room, remodeled a kitchen (complete with custom-made kitchen cabinets of Brazilian mahogany. Gosh, I miss those cabinets!), added dormer windows to a roof, replaced a standard living room window with a bow window....You get the idea. The Model T sat waiting to be assembled.

Ken started assembling all of the T's parts about two years ago. Gradually, I began to understand that he really was building an antique car. For some reason, this had been a difficult concept for me to grasp.

Retirement is a beautiful thing if you have your health, an imagination, much ambition, and a little spare money. You finally get to do those things you'd been dreaming of for the past 50 years.

Ken's dream is finally a reality. Two weeks ago he registered his speedster, and last Sunday he drove it to the center of our little village for an antique auto meet. What surprised me most, though, is that I was seated beside him as he chugged into town. I'd always said I wouldn't be caught dead riding in an antique auto (I'm someone who hates being conspicuous, and nothing screams conspicuous like riding in an antique automobile), but suddenly my thinking changed.

I'd watched Ken wait patiently for the time to come when he could actually build his car. I'd encouraged him (usually) to buy parts, refinish parts, even bid on and win the genuine 1915 Maine license plates which he found on eBay in March.

How could I not share with him the thrill of the ride into town?

The auto isn't totally finished. The seats need upholstering. Ken needs to build rear fenders. But that antique steering wheel is now part of the T, and the little speedster runs with a certain perkiness. I'm developing an affection for her. Ken says he wants to teach me to drive her. I say let's take one step at a time.

Merry Christmas????

Yup. It's true. This is the view from my kitchen window this morning.

Bride's Sachet

A few months ago I found a pattern for a beautiful little bride's purse, a Bride's Sachet, at Knitting Daily.

I downloaded the directions then and there and told myself I'd knit one of these for a future wedding: maybe for a grand niece or a close friend's daughter.

Then I read the directions, or the first paragraph of the directions, and my enthusiasm cooled. I had no idea what the designer, Laura Rintala, meant by "Judy's Magic Cast-on."

So I tucked away the pattern and went on to other knitting projects.

Then I learned of an upcoming wedding, and I knew I wanted to attempt making the Bride's Sachet for the soon-to-be-bride. She's a down-to-earth girl who would surely appreciate something handmade for her special day.

I chose some mercerized crochet cotton from my Crocheting Days, which means I bought the cotton about 15 years ago. It had sat in my needlework cupboard, unopened, all these years. It would be perfect for a bride's purse.

The knitting needles called for were size 1 double-points. I had a package of size 1's on hand, but I'd never opened the package. They simply sat in my knitting needle collection, waiting for "some day."

On April 2 I took the plunge. Just as I'd suspected, "Judy's Magic Cast-on" was way, way over my head, so I settled for a long-tail cast on and then joined the two ends. This worked just fine.

Then I began knitting. I knit and I knit and I knit. I knit from April 2 to April 11. How something this small can take so much knitting time is a mystery to me. I've knit adult-sized February Lady sweaters in less time than it took me to knit this little bag.

But I forged ahead and actually, I must admit, enjoyed seeing the delicate design develop into this little bag.

The next hurdle reared its ugly head: the leaf edging that's supposed to circle the top of the bag. I'd read on Ravelry that other knitters of this pattern had trouble with the leaf edging, so I knew for certain I would, too. And I did. I attempted it two or three times but got nowhere.

I let the purse sit for a full day, wondering what to do about that edging. The purse needed an edging, but a leaf edging just wasn't going to happen, not in this house.

My dearest friend, who happens to be the mother of the groom-to-be, said, "Why not crochet an edge?" Brilliant idea, I decided. But what should the design look like? I dug out my crochet patterns, some of which hadn't seen the light of day in many years, and thumbed through them.

I finally settled on the edging you see here. It's simple, with only a slightly challenging picot stitch being the most challenging step.

This afternoon I hand sewed the pearl beads onto the picots, added the ribbon draw strings, stuffed it with tissue paper, and did its photo shoot.

I love this little bag. I'm not completely satisfied with the ribbon I've strung through it, but when I go shopping I'll look around to see if I can find something I like better. The directions call for a crocheted chain, but I don't think I'd care for that at all.

I know the bride might not want to carry this on her wedding day, and that's okay. She'll need to do what feels right for her. But at least she'll have this little handmade purse as a memento of her special day. Some day she might pass it along to her own daughter on her wedding day, or to her future daughter-in-law, or to a niece. Whatever she does, she'll know I had fun, when all was said and done, making this just for her.

Free at last! I'm free at last!

Saturday was the big day: I became immediate past-president of Maine's A∆K organization and another lucky lady became the new president.

I'm glad to have that two-year commitment behind me. I know I agreed willingly to take it on, but I don't think I realized at the time how draining it would be. Although I had to chair only four executive board meetings per year, there was the big state meeting in April 09, the big state convention this past Saturday, the newsletter, the tri-state, Northeast region, and international conventions to attend,...You get the picture.

Just before taking over as state president, I served as my chapter's president for two years. That, too, was a big commitment. And I served in both of these posts while retired. How do the members who serve as chapter and state presidents while at the same time teaching full time ever survive it all? They amaze me.

My study has now been emptied of four or five large boxes of A∆K records, and I am happy to have the room back. In fact, I was so eager to get those boxes out of my way that I packed them into my car's trunk two days before the convention, then I proceeded to take them along with me wherever I went. When I got groceries on Friday, I had to find ingenious ways to stuff the food items in amongst the A∆K records.

Alpha Delta Kappa is a wonderful organization which does all kinds of good deeds for others. That's the part of it I like. The office-holding part is now behind me, I hope.

Since Saturday I've been adjusting to my new life: no pressing A∆K issues need my attention. There is the final report to fill out online, but that won't take too long. Maybe I can finally do some serious gardening, and maybe I can get back to my spring cleaning, and maybe I can tackle that pile of ironing that has been building for the past three weeks.

Easter Report

On Easter morning the Easter Bunny, for reasons I still don't understand, disguised himself as Ken. Then he went out onto our lawns and into my garden and proceeded to hide Easter eggs.

Molly, who likes to be of help, assisted him.

Then Miss V came to visit. I mentioned to her that I'd seen the Easter Bunny hiding eggs in the garden, so she thought she'd better go check out the situation.

Sure enough, she found eggs hidden in all sorts of places. Before long, her basket was full of eggs.

And that's my Easter Report.