Although I didn’t realize it at the time, the day young Rebekah and her family brought Magic into our lives was a red letter day. Yes, Magic has moved outside to the Pen of Misfit Fowl along with Tonks and Lupin. She has mostly adjusted, though not as well as her younger former cage mates, and no longer paces the fence line waiting to be rescued. She does, however, keep an eye on the big yard for the presence of her humans. When she sees us coming, she pitter patters to the gate in hopes of an indoor visit. Most of the time, she is not disappointed.
You might think we bring Magic inside at least once a day because, being bleeding heart farmers, we feel sorry for her but the opposite is true. We need her. I need her. Sitting in my room knitting the Tasha dress or, as a quick temporary break in projects, my Wool Festival homework can be a solitary pursuit. After all, I knit at the speed of sludge and those hours of clicking pointy sticks add up. Magic comes inside and, after flapping her wings to disturb all the paperwork in the room and marking her territory a few times on the towel covering the bed, she settles in beside me. She cocks her head to get a good look at my face and at my knitting. I can see her inner duck critic sizing up what I am working on and, after vocally quacking her advice, she adjusts her lovely prehistoric feet under her soft downy belly until she feels relaxed enough to know all is well with the world (or at least the bedroom) and lets her eyes slowly give up their vigilance. I love her.
Oh, and that homework? One of the workshops I am taking is “Steeks,” which involves a Norwegian style of stranded two or more color knitting. Instead of binding off and shaping the armhole stitches as is the norm in most sweater making, one knits a large tube in the round and then, gulp, cuts the knitting where the sleeves will be inserted. I am too huge a coward to try this on my own without seeing it done in person and, since no one knits within 20 miles of me (it is the desert after all; I really should live in Canada or someplace somewhat cold), I thought this was a workshop worth joining.
For my homework, I am to knit a miniature tube, at least five inches in length, in preparation for the ordeal. I haven’t done much Fair Isle knitting, only on Pint’s really big stocking, but I think it’s going okay thus far. The stitch pattern is called “rose and thorn,” beautifully modeled here by my other knitting-time companion, Miss Millie, our little brown pound mutt. I love her, too.
You know, that is one of the best things about our little pretend farm. No matter how challenging life gets or what dastardly things happen, The Love runneths over and it never ever stops. Like Jimmy Stewart said, "It's a wonderful life."
When Hunky Husband arrived home from this morning's dive clinic, which was a coaching session for his Cactus Shadows Dive Team, not something to cure injured divers, and after he had read today's post, he said, "I have the picture for you!"
Secondly, Papa Ernie the Shearer is set to arrive tomorrow morning to give the lambs, goats, and alpacas a hair cut. Woohooo! I'll try to concentrate enough to remember to take plenty of photos; it gets a bit hectic you understand.