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winter's beach glass

The big lake doesn't have discernable tides, but it is forever changing.  The ongoing tussle between freeze and thaw in winter makes for some amazing scenery.  I brought the snowshoes for my walk along the point today, but most of the snow had been blown away.  I wore them anyway, using their sharp metal teeth as crampons so I could climb on the mounds of ice and get a little closer to the place where the liquid and solid meet.

Along the frozen shore, chunks and shards of ice were softened and tempered by the sun.  They sparkled.

Another sparkly thing for me today is that I'm one of this month's guests here.  To say that I'm thrilled to be a part of this exciting project is an understatement.  Emily and Molly sure know how to throw a party.

reclamation

I like to think about the family who will call this house home once our work is done.  And how they'll hang their sheets out to dry on the clothesline in the back yard.  It's infinitely easier than thinking about the family who lost the home, and so much more.  My foreclosure remediation work feels so difficult sometimes.

distracted by cap sleeves

Yesterday I stumbled upon a pattern that made me want to cast on a new project right then and there.  Nevermind that I have two sweaters on the needles.  Nevermind that I have a tinge of achiness in my wrists.  Nevermind that I promised myself I'd at least weave in the ends and block the sweater for the girl before I started anything else.  Nevermind that I planned to start the February Lady before the month ends.  I heard the birds in the trees this morning and felt sun melting snow and the promise of short sleeve days ahead.  There's really no reason to wait. 

And, I have the perfect yarn.  It's a cashmere cotton blend that I recycled from a turtleneck sweater I found at a thrift store ages ago.  It was one of those things I bought for the material alone.  So I'm swatching.  And calculating.  I'm seriously considering sizing up the pattern so that it will fit me.  If anyone has any bits of wisdom on rewriting patterns, please let me know. 

quiet yellow

Queit light in a quiet corner of a quiet restaurant with a good friend. 

It was the perfect week to find and capture yellow.  I needed it more than I imagined.  So many thanks, Erin.

yellow fours

The morning magnet games seemed to be the only spot of order (and yellow) in my day.  Nothing else was simple.  Or matchy. 

yellow surprise

I expect a certain amount of yellow in the houses that are being renovated by the organization I work with. After all the toughest of tools all seem to be yellow. But this house keeps surprising me.

On the day we found the house a yellow chair convinced me of its promise.

And today, a yellow rain slicker showed me that the road to completion will be long while reminding me that we are prepared.

speck of yellow

I thought I had purchased fusible interfacing, but no amount of ironing will get it to stick. So I'm sandwiching it in, and hoping for the best. I'm going with the slightly corded nantucket red...

hello yellow

When we painted the house we kept the yellow mailbox.  Even though it didn't match.  For this I am happy.

Thanks to Erin for putting a little yellow into the week!  I'm looking forward to finding this cheery hue amongst the February grays.  And too, to seeing the bits and bobs of yellow captured and shared by all of the others who are playing along.

the caves

We recently ventured out to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore to see the mainland caves.  I've heard them referred to as 'sea caves' but this doesn't make much sense to me since the sea is about salt, and the great lakes are as fresh as can be.  I've also heard folks call them 'ice caves' but this name is seasonal, of course. But never mind the name, this place really can't be summed up with words.

In the warmer months, the caves are accessible by kayak, and only by those with paddling expertise.  As the temperatures drop splashing water freezes, layer upon layer, on the red rock walls of the chambers.

Eventually the lake itself freezes solid and for a few weeks each winter, it is safe to hike out to the caves.  It was amazing, and admittedly, a bit unsettling out there.  I could hear the lake, its dull bass thump and bump reminding me of its power.   Every now and again I'd step on the uneven surface and it would give way -- just the top layers, but enough to stir up my adrenaline.  And twice, a popping crack left me wondering just why I was out there.  And then I'd look up. 

feeling groovy

I feel preyed upon my the seed catalog companies. They know that winter will continue its stronghold for many more weeks and, like others, I get through these dark and dreary months by dreaming of green. By revisiting the bounty of the last growing season while scheming about how to up the ante in the warm months ahead.

They also know that my memory doesn't recall just how small our plot in the community garden is, and just how unsuitable our yard is for cultivation.  But I've discovered something. And just in time, since what remains of our fresh local harvest is about eight pounds of carrots.  I can have a garden of edibles in the winter. Inside the house. Inside a cupboard, even.

Sprouts. Simple green goodness growing in a jar. They're keeping me realistic about the growing potential ahead. And filling the need for fresh and local and green foods. The inspiration and direction for my sprouting adventures came from maya*made. 

And, so many thanks to all for the tangled yoke cardigan love.  I'm wearing the beloved sweater right now...