February 2006 Archives
According to the official athlete's page there are now 50% more participants in the Knitting Olympics than in the actual Winter Olympics. Wow.
And I am one of the nine Paula's participating! I am ready and raring to go on my shawl-collared vest. I have swatched and adapted the instructions for my yarn, gauge, and preference for ribbing that doesn't pull in too much. The yarn is a lovely natural/gray marl, 50% merino/50% alpaca. So soft.
As usual the day job will interfere with my knitting and I won't be able to cast on until I get home from work. I'll try to post regularly on my progress. Happy knitting to everyone!
And I am one of the nine Paula's participating! I am ready and raring to go on my shawl-collared vest. I have swatched and adapted the instructions for my yarn, gauge, and preference for ribbing that doesn't pull in too much. The yarn is a lovely natural/gray marl, 50% merino/50% alpaca. So soft.
As usual the day job will interfere with my knitting and I won't be able to cast on until I get home from work. I'll try to post regularly on my progress. Happy knitting to everyone!
At the invitation of Grace's Poppies (Thanks Reya!)
I wrote this in 1979 I think, while an undergrad at the University of Lethbridge. It had seemed like a particularly long, brown winter.
Spring Fever
We are restless beyond reason
The approaching vernal equinox
is melting the crystal lattice
of our winter-frozen spirits
The fresh-thawed liquid seeps into our veins
and with each returning gush to the heart
we feel
gut-struck
(sub-alpine meadows and alpine lakes
and the tamaracks turning green)
We are restless beyond reason
Our bodies sing
with the uncertain harmonies
of strings in a minor key.
I wrote this in 1979 I think, while an undergrad at the University of Lethbridge. It had seemed like a particularly long, brown winter.
Spring Fever
We are restless beyond reason
The approaching vernal equinox
is melting the crystal lattice
of our winter-frozen spirits
The fresh-thawed liquid seeps into our veins
and with each returning gush to the heart
we feel
gut-struck
(sub-alpine meadows and alpine lakes
and the tamaracks turning green)
We are restless beyond reason
Our bodies sing
with the uncertain harmonies
of strings in a minor key.
