Trenchwork

I am alive.

Like #5, I am alive.  You’ve been neglected, I’m afraid, so let me catch you up.  Grab your cuppa, because this promises to be a long one.

January was busy.

There was a quick visit to here . . .

(Stone Mountain, Georgia)

. . . just for the fun of it.

. . . on one of the coldest days of the year.

It was the start of the coldest period in Florida since 1965/66.

Two days later we bought heavy winter coats, mittens, and scarves.

You know, there’s something very very wrong about going from Norway to Florida and having to buy wool coats and insulated jackets.  And it’s not as if we didn’t already have those things; we just didn’t expect to need them.  Normally a heavy jacket or solid coat, a scarf, and light gloves are enough.  But this time, this time we had Norwegian temperatures while Norway was having its own record cold snap.

But, seriously?  Tell that to a friend.  “I went to Florida and bought a wool coat.”  Yeah, riiiight.

On the other hand, much of the month was spent here . . .

This is Strozier library at FSU. 200,000 square feet of space. That means books. Lots and lots of books. Access to digitized and other media  resources, current journals, and while it may not be the Ivy League library some folks crave, it is a Level 1 Research University with a full-service library—and a pleasure to be in.

And yes—I was able to get rather a lot done.

There was a fair amount of time with family in the interval, and yes–it was good time. It was important time, and it was—and is—short time. To say that there are clouds on the horizon would be to indulge in a cliché, but there are few others which are appropriate.

This little fellow has been with me for a long while.

I’ve used him as a shelf-minder, for writing exercises, and as an occasional paperweight or book block, but I keep him in sight because he reminds me of something.

“Here there be dragons.”  The phrase crops up on old maps and in folklore, but generally speaking, the thing which was really there (obviously not dragons) was never as frightening or awful as a dragon would have been.  It may have been a new challenge, an unknown, or even a new danger, but it was something which could be learned about and then handled—or at least avoided.  You see, even dragons can be tamed, trained, or simply understood, and the dark spaces which they are used to represent on the map are generally never as frightening as the imaginative image of the dragon itself.

In other words, there really are very few things in our lives worthy of being called dragons.  Death and loss are, perhaps, competitors for the title, but yet, even they . . .

I’m increasingly convinced that most of the time we just need to get past our own fear and lack of knowledge and figure out what the heck that thing in the mist really is.  Once we’ve named it, we can deal with it, or at least come to terms with it.  And then, it seems to me, that the issue is whether or not we can control it.  If it is not something within our control, then being afraid of it feels very much like a waste of time and energy—and we all have better things to do.  If it is within our control, then it’s time to start working with the beast.

So, here there be dragons.  If I cannot eliminate them, I can at least teach them to sit quietly on the shelf and make themselves useful (or at least not detrimental) in some way.

Here there be dragons.  But I can deal with them.  So can you.

---

February was filled with repairs from frozen pipes and water leaks, computer blowups and repairs (one desktop still pending that last), catching up on various bits and pieces, and all the usual chaos that comes with a return from a trip.  Have you ever noticed that even though you travel with clean laundry and make a point of returning home with clean laundry, suddenly there are at least half a dozen loads waiting for the washer three days later?  I’m personally betting that the clean clothes jump up in the middle of the night and run around before they throw themselves in the laundry basket just before the first light of dawn.  I’d swear they were breeding in there, but there’s nothing I can’t recognize.  Remembering is a different issue.

Thus far this year, I’ve finished three projects.

First, if you don’t already know it, Miriam Felton of MimKnits is getting ready to publish a book.  The hard part of the work is already done:  she’s already created the patterns.  Now she just needs to put it all together.  But see, the very very cool part of this is that the book is a book of lace specifically for handspun yarn.  The kind of yarn that you want to be able to knit until you run out of yarn, or until you’re ready to stop.  The kind of patterns which allow you to do that, and which won’t be obscured by the often-shifting colors that handspun tends to be.  That.  That’s the book.  And if you’ve never had the pleasure of working with a MimKnits pattern, you do need to try one.  The patterns are all clear, well written, easy to follow, and the finished product is inevitably beautiful.

Remember this?

1200 yards of it are in one of those patterns. You’ll see it. Complete with all my test-knitter’s mistakes. Poor Miriam had to re-knit one border because I hadn’t twisted a stitch properly, but I know it took her a couple of hours to do what it took me two days to complete! I keep saying this, but I don’t think people believe me: I am the slowest knitter in the world.  So, folks, please:  don’t judge her beautiful pattern based on my wonky knitting.  Trust me; the pattern is perfect, and the stole is beautiful.

And do you remember this?

It’s now this:

and this:

and this:

Don’t you love the dignified blocking method?  It’s 69″ across and it could have gone further.  It’s 47″ tall and wraps over to the back on both the top and the bottom by about 6″ each.

It takes up most of the living room floor.

It’s the Feather & Fan shawl from A Gathering of Lace, and I’m rather pleased with it. Of course, I’m particularly pleased with the fact that it’s done. Let me repeat myself:  I AM the slowest knitter in the world. This shawl was on the needles for 13 months.

But in the vein of finishing things, do you remember Matteus? The lovely Shetland lamb from Stonehaven Farm?

He now looks like this:

The picture doesn’t do the fiber justice. It’s a lovely dove grey with a golden brown cast, and it’s going to turn into a Sleeves In Your Pi shawl.  It goes to the wheel this weekend, and I can’t wait.

But you see, part of the reason all those 21 batts are finished is because of this arrival:

It’s a Pat Green Supercarder. I know, that doesn’t mean much to many of you, so let me tell you the important bit: It’s an electric carder. No more cranking, you can use both hands to handle the fiber, and that third drum creates a silky smooth batt as long as you have the fiber properly prepared.

It is my new best friend. Its name is George. (Of course, anything that doesn’t talk back is usually named George, but this is George of Disney’s cartoon “and I will hug it and pet it and squeeze it” fame.)

It has also taught me a few things, but you’ll forgive me if I save that for an upcoming post. Instead, there’s one other thing I want to share with you . . .

This.

I’ve smudged out the last name for personal reasons, but that’s the label on my office door. MY office door. The “førsteamanuensis”? Associate professor.

I got the job.