A Poem, "Aunt Martha's Afghan"

I am sitting in a doctors office waiting room. I am not happy to be there but that is not due to being nervous about being a patient. I am waiting for a friend who needed a ride. I see hours of my work day evaporating. I pick up the afghan that I had been making to go in my Aunt Martha's guest room. Busy fingers sooth the agitated mind. In front of me is a long koi pond that is as active as a small village. Rocks have been placed to form havens for the koi fry. It does not take long for me to feel peaceful as I crocheted in such a beautiful place. This poem percolated to the surface;

I made you this afghan
Call it a blanket or throw
There is so much more in it
I want you to know
Each stitch is a second
With you on my mind
Captured in wool
Frozen in time
In waiting rooms, meetings
Whenever I sat
Watching a movie on TV
Surrounded by cats
So wrap it around you
Feel it warm like a glove
Remember what warms you
Is really my love

Blog On!
Leslie

What I learned from the Belle of Amherst

Thanks to my friend, Jeb, I was able to see the "Belle of Amherst" at Gloucester Stage last week. Lindsay Crouse was a very believable Emily Dickinson. What has most stayed with me is the manner of creative life she led. She never left the property which certainly limited her personal relationships . She didn't expend energy thinking about what to what to wear as she only wore white. She had, basically, a life devoid of distraction. I, in contrast, spend my days like a ball in a pin ball game, careening from one thing to another. I now have a new goal: to live the undiluted life. As of this writing I am not sure what that means, but I will document where this new goal takes me.
Blog On!
Leslie

Parking for Saturday's Event

One note about the Rockport Fiber Fest: there is limited parking on Broadway. One suggestion is to take the Park and Ride trolley from the parking lot near the Rockport Transfer Station. You'll have to ask the trolley driver to let you off at the Community House which is one building down from 5 Corners on the left side of the street.

The Park and Ride lot is on Blue Gate Lane: the mapquest link is here.

- Maureen

Rockport Fiber Fest

What: A gathering for all people involved in fiber-related activities such as knitting, crocheting, spinning, needlework, embroidery, rug hooking and the like.
When: August 11, 2007 - 9AM to 3PM
Where: Rockport Community House, 58 Broadway, Rockport, MA
Why: Because we wanted to get together with fun people with interesting projects.
Who: Leslie is really the organizer, but I will be there making a purse to felt. Our friend Roseanne Hunter, the magnificent rug maker, is coming. I'm pretty sure Rob Porter will be there with yarn he just imported from China. And members of the Essex County Needlecraft Guild are going to try to make it. So come one, come all.
How: Just show up, bring a project to work on, and a dish to pass for potluck lunch. Another interesting location in the neighborhood is Helen Parker Textiles, right across the street. Helen paints textiles - wait till you see them.

Any further questions? Post a comment here or send me email at maureenmo3 at aol dot com. (You know how to really type that email address - I did that to fool the spambots.)

P.S. Leslie and I heard the Yarn Harlot speak at Borders in Burlington last night. She is just as funny and bright as you would think from her writing, and certainly gave me something to think about: there are 50 million knitters in North America. I'll stop there and let Leslie blog about her if she wishes.

Mo

Wild Kingdom

As I was driving from Rockport to Gloucester early this evening (Upper Main near the vernal pools for locals), an animal darted across the road in front of me. It looked like it was about three feet long, weasel-like, with dark brown to black lush fur. It was my first visual sighting of the seldom-seen fisher cat. I had been warned about how dangerous they are to small pets when I first moved here; Leslie calls them "teddy bears with fangs." People wonder how many of the cat disappearances that have been attributed to coyotes are actually due to the fisher cat.

Mass Wildlife has an informative article about the fisher. It emphasizes how secretive and solitary they are, so I feel lucky to have seen one, especially in a situation where I didn't have to protect a pet.

Incongruity

Midnight, a couple of nights ago, I was out with Joon for her last pee of the evening. I heard a big splash from the cove, the kind of splash that was not a wave. I looked over to see the light at the top of a sailboat mast beyond the lobster restaurant, and realized I had also been hearing the tling-tling of nautical hardware. Another splash ensued, and I realized the night divers were back.

Just then, a bone-chilling sound came from the ridge over the marsh behind the house. "AWOOOOOO-yip, yip yip!" Coyote. Suddenly, I was transported from the New England coast to the New Mexico desert. As Joon and I hustled into the house, it came again, closer, "AWOOOOOO-yip, yip yip!"

- Maureen

Edited to add:

Happy Independence Day!

Happy 4th! Today is a good day to read the Declaration of Independence again.

I'd like to dedicate today's blog to all the Signers of the Declaration. These men risked everything. As Benjamin Franklin said to his fellow signers, "We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."

One of the signers from New York, General William Floyd, was the head of a wealthy family on Long Island. They lost their home and lands in the Revolution when the property was taken by the British and Floyd was serving in the Continental Congress. After the war, when Floyds returned to Long Island, they found that the redcoats had pretty much had trashed the house and land. After Floyd served in the first U.S. Congress, he bought land in the wilds around the present-day Rome, NY (my hometown) and moved to Westernville near Rome to start a farm there. He is buried in Westernville, just a few miles from where I grew up. So here's to General Floyd - huzzah!

Maureen

P.S. General Floyd was still alive when the first shovel was turned to begin the digging of the Erie Canal at Rome on July 4, 1817.