A Christmas Album

Snow fell early this year. We in the Mid-Atlantic area--and northward--enjoyed a white Christmas.





























Trish and Julie enjoy Bergen's delicious homemade truffles (with chili pepper!) and peppermint fudge. When did she get time to make it all?










Grandmother shows off new frames for photos of the new babies.



























Jack, in his formal best, keeps guard, watching out the window.







Another of Cora and her dad.

Christmas 2009

For the last few years, Christmas has been a rough time for me. The death of my mother in 2000 and of my father a year later, cast a pall on the holidays and reminders that I should feel "merry and bright" only served to intensify my sadness. As others looked forward to the lights, decorations, and Christmas carols, I felt only dread. I looked forward only to December 26, for the slow return of normalcy.

This year that veil of sorrow has finally begun to lift.

Our family is growing again as my children and their cousins are starting to marry and to have families of their own. The first to arrive was Cora, born to my oldest nephew and his wife. I've rediscovered that sharing Christmas morning with a toddler can soften the darkest spirit. Like all little ones her age, Cora's temperament is mercurial. One moment she is playful and happy. Within seconds the winds will change and her cries will break your heart. Watching her, despite these ups and downs, has been remedial. She reminds me of the same magic moments shared with my own toddlers and of how quickly they pass.

We are also looking forward to the birth of my son's first child, a little girl who was "due" on December 25th. Understandingly, we were somewhat apprehensive about her coming during the holidays but those feelings reached critical mass when an early snowstorm pounded our area before Christmas and brought the MD-DC-VA area to a standstill. Fortunately, our prayers that she would choose a later date to arrive have been answered favorably.

And so it is that the coming of one child and the anticipation of another has served to ease my seasonal unhappiness. I will never stop missing my parents, but the time has come at last, I think, to put the grief away, to stop and enjoy the Christmas lights.

Rainly Day Road Trip

Last week we had a wonderful little road trip. Two of my knitting buddies, Carol and Terri are also tea lovers. So, when I learned about a tea store in Annapolis, someone suggested a trip over The Bridge.

I decided to drive and Carol volunteered to sit in the back seat of the Mini--she's such a good sport but I suspect that's the last time she'll be so adventurous. Sitting back there isn't terribly uncomfortable if you're of average height or less, but getting in and out can be tricky. I've perfected an exit strategy that can only be classified as "graceful" if someone outside the car can give me a little tug. Failing that, I'm afraid it looks more like I'm escaping from a sink hole.

The weather was windy, wet and chilly but the little red car was toasty warm. As we rode, Terri read aloud from A Wind in the Willows and time passed quickly. The walk from the parking garage was a short one but we were nevertheless, greatly appreciative when the storekeeper offered up warm samples of the tea du jour. We had fun admiring tea pots, checking out various tea accoutrements and smelling the hundred or so loose teas that were available. It was a true field day for the senses, especially on such a nasty day. Carol, a devoted Obama fan, was tickled to learn that the store had a special mix of tea dedicated to the new president and she happily bought some, along with a number of others, for herself and a friend. I chose some African rooibos, which is a rich red herbal tea, and two black teas--Earl Grey, mixed with English lavender, and an oriental spice blend.



Afterwards, we stopped for lunch at my favorite Annapolis restaurant, Cafe Normandie. We warmed ourselves with more hot tea and feasted on a lunch of good bread, rich soup and fresh salad as we chatted.

What a lovely way to spend a rainy day--or any day!

Boo Humbug

I hate Halloween. Maybe it started when my mother made me a cool black cat costume and Shirley Niklas won the first place costume prize for some cheesy princess get-up.

Once or twice I relapsed and reluctantly played along with the rest of the world. Most often I've worn my jammies, carried a teddy bear and blankie for a few handfuls of free chocolate. The best one was probably the time I wore a forest green head-to-toe leotard festooned with Christmas ornaments and silver garland. After a time however, life as a Christmas tree grew wearisome. Everyone just wanted to "feel my balls."

We had a few good years when my kids were small. One year, Dan was a mummy and I wrapped him up in strips of muslin. He started unraveling the minute he stepped out the door. When he returned from making the rounds in the neighborhood, he looked like an angora cat who'd lost a fight with the weed whacker. I picked up strings from the carpet for weeks. When Julie was about 3, she decided she wanted to be a "cockalooda." After a few minutes of careful interrogation, we concluded that she wanted to be a brightly colored bird. I cut long petal-shaped "feathers" from a number of different cotton fabrics and sewed them onto a cape, which she wore over tights. She was the cutest little cockalooda in the Halloween parade, right down to her red high-topped Converse sneakers.

Now, I find Halloween a bother. I dislike having to listen to the dogs bark all night as we run back and forth to dispense cheap candy and a heartfelt, "Aren't you cute!" Check back later--things may change after we get grandchildren.

In the meantime, here are a few photos of Halloween in our small town.

My Sweet Puppygirl

I'm sad to announce that my beloved Molly passed away in my arms after a brief illness. We will miss her greatly but cherish the memories of the many years she blessed our lives. No one ever had a cuter wiggle-butt and her kisses were ever so sweet.

Shenandoah Valley Fiber Fest

Julie and I had talked earlier in the summer about going to Rhinebeck for the NY Sheep and Wool Festival to see what all the talk was about. Then, I heard about the Shenandoah Valley Fiber Fest in Berryville, VA and it seemed silly to travel all the way to New York when we had something so close.

We watched the weather forecasts for the week prior and they went from possible precipitation to certain downpour. When the day finally came, the temperature was almost balmy--no rain when we left--but the skies were ominous. We dressed for the worst, with boots, slickers and umbrellas. We were determined to have fun, regardless of the weather. And that's exactly what happened.

We were delighted to discover that a large group of Julie's friends from the Reston Stitch 'n' Bitch group were also there. Every time we met some one we knew, we invited them to lunch at The Cup and Crumpet. (Elizabeth McCarus from Fibersmyth had a booth and her husband had one right beside her with pre-made goodies from his tea room.) By noon, we had a party of ten--the food was delicious and the company was even better. We all sat at a large picnic table, eating and chatting about what we'd seen, bought, or planned to buy. Suddenly, everyone finished eating at the same and they all left. It was like rats jumping off of a sinking ship! One minute we're all having a great time and the next, Julie and I were alone!

I'd been looking forward to the juried fleece sale and it was really interesting to browse through the 50 or so fleeces there. I bought a cream colored Romney fleece and half of an alpaca fleece. I hadn't planned on the alpaca, but it was so soft and had so much crimp--usually alpaca has little or no crimp--that it looked like a sheep's fleece. I kept coming back to it, as did another spinner. We were going back and forth, each one urging the other to buy it. Finally, we both bought half.



The festival was only about 1/4 of Maryland Sheep and Wool, so we were able to check out all the animals and visit with the vendors. We especially liked watching the rabbit owners blow dry and fluff their bunnies in preparation to judging and we absolutely fell in love with the lop-eared dwarf bunnies--so cute!



It was an absolutely wonderful day--regardless of the weather!

A Weekend With Julie and Cookie

I had a marvelous mini vacation last weekend with one of my favorite people, Daughter Julie, and one of my favorite designers, Cookie A. The event was a two-day sock-knitting seminar put on by one of Julie's knitting pals. It was held at a private home in Solomon's Island, on the shores of the Patuxent River, with a view of its convergence with the Chesapeake Bay. Even on a cloudy grey morning, the setting was beautiful and, when the front passed, leaving a bright sunny afternoon, it was absolutely spectacular.

One of the classes we'd signed up for was called, "Intuitive Chart Reading" and actually, I really didn't expect much to come out of it. Fortunately, I was greatly surprised.

Let me explain. I learned to knit in a time when knitting patterns were either painfully terse, leaving much to the imagination, or verbose, dictating each stitch in its place. I went out of my way to avoid the former and sought out the latter. When I worked those patterns, I felt a sense of pride that I could make sense of it all, akin to being able to read Klingon. I felt like the designer was present with me as I knit, coaching me stitch by stitch. So, fast forward to the present age. Almost no one writes patterns in English anymore. OH NO, they draw charts. Each stitch is still there, in its specific order, but now each one is represented by a strange arcane symbol--one looks like a Breast Cancer ribbon, others resemble ceiling rafters or bridge support fixtures. I never thought knitting charts made much sense and working from them was tedious. Usually, I retreated to the past and transcribed each row onto an index card. Then, I felt comfortable again, flipping each card as I completed each row.

Cookie began the class by asking each one of us to say how they felt about charts. Those women who were of a certain age--that is, over 40--said almost the same thing, "Charts are strange and I hate them." The younger members of the class were, as a group, less passionate, just wanting to better understand charts.

Cookie A is a perky, cute-as-a-button young lady with green highlights in her "pixie" haircut. It doesn't take long to recognize that she's very bright and extremely knowledgeable about all things knitting. Still, I had doubts that I would witness any conversions, especially not my own. In the course of a few hours, using a dry erase board and four different colored markers, Cookie A, made sense of the whole business of charts. She showed us that the silly little symbols weren't silly at all, but stylized representations of how the stitch looks and what it is doing in the pattern. The "Breast Cancer Ribbon" symbol indicates a twisted stitch and the bridge fixtures are really cable stitches. She also helped us to make sense out of charts that aren't square and the little blackened-in squares that I now know mean "do nothing."

Soon, we were all speaking Chartese, discussing yarnovers and double decreases, like it was our native tongue. By lunch time, I felt like I'd discovered and conquered a whole new territory in the Land of Knitting. It was pretty damn awesome.



After that, it was all just gravy. We had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant and a group of us stayed at the local Hilton. Sunday was a taste of Indian Summer--clear blue skies with a warm breeze. Julie and I attended another class about designing rib stitches and then, spent the afternoon in the front yard, chatting and enjoying the view. Cookie even taught a short lesson on the lawn and the sailboats scooted by. I couldn't imagine that a trip to Europe could have been any better.