FO: bluestone.

It’s official. I’m obsessed with navajo plying. And with Southern Cross Fibre. This merino might well be the squishiest thing to ever come off my wheel. 148 yards of plump worsted deliciousness, navajo plied, in the Bluestone colorway from the March 2010 SCF Fiber Club. I love this so much that I want to wear the hank doubled around my neck…and I’m thinking it should probably turn into a cowl, ASAP.

I went looking for something else to play with, and decided on this falklands wool from AVFKW in the tigerlily colorway. I split the roving lengthwise in half with the idea that the colors would repeat twice. And when I finished the first half, I decided to go for two mini-skeins so that I could navajo ply some more (instead of waiting until today).

I wrestled with this in places — in some spots, my singles were slightly overspun for navajo plying, and my lack of patience meant that in those sections, I had to deal with energized singles that hadn’t been given any time to rest. That said, I love these colors, and am psyched to spin and ply the other half of this fiber. What you’re seeing here is 48 yards of worsted weight yarn,  from 1.5 oz of fiber.

And here’s another shot of Shalom — I slipped this on yesterday to see if I wanted to add a fourth button hole (I do), and had to laugh at the exact matchiness of my t-shirt and yarn.

Alas, spring break has come to a close — and the grey skies are echoing a bit of how I feel today. I wish break lasted a bit longer, as I am just starting to feel caught up on a lot of of work, sleep, and play. I’m going to let myself do a bit more knitting and spinning today, amidst prep for the week, but I’m not going to lie: I am feeling a little bit pouty, and it will be hard to head to campus tomorrow morning…

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rustling.

(Not cattle. More like leaves, branches, half-thoughts, glimpses of moments past.)

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This is one of my favorite paths to wander along, as those of you who’ve been reading for the summer, even the last year, are well aware.

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The wind in the beech trees, the water pouring over the spillway, even the distinctive vibration from the trucks on the state road I walk to get here; these sounds stir me. I see and hear echoes of words I have felt, said, thought. My memory surprises me. These walks are harder on some days than others, but always strangely restorative.

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Yesterday’s walk (and the walk I took last week, with our houseguest) was different. After an incredibly delicious mushroom-leek quiche (everyone should find friends who will bring breakfast to your house) that I wish I had photographed to share here, we bundled up and headed out the door with Boh and Coltrane. I guess I write all of this to say that it seems important to experience solitary places with other people. It’s not that the reservoir was transformed by the company; more that I noticed new things around me, and at the same time, rustled up a little less. It is nice to turn my regular route into a space filled with chatter, storytelling, community.

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One of the great things about friends who are also early-risers is that you can enjoy an indulgent brunch and take a relaxing walk AND have plenty of time left over for productivity, of both the academic and fiber-y variety.

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In between bouts of reading and writing, I sat down at my wheel and spun up two bobbins of luxurious polwarth from Southern Cross Fibres in the Boogie Wonderland colorway. This was incredible stuff to spin, and the depth of these greys and greens is stunning.  We’ll see if I can get through today’s pile fast enough to start plying this today.