In My Knitting Basket...

...what better place for my newest reading! Yarn Harlot. She's hilarious, even if she does have some serious issues with yaks. And yes, the wool. The Lopi is direct from Iceland (!), oodles of which I brought home with me when I was still in the Navy. Destined to be slightly felted thrum mittens. I promised my family they would all get a pair before the snow started flying. I made my pair last year during the Harlot's Thrum-Along, and I think everybody else wore them more than I did. Fantastic things. Can't live without 'em here on the farm. And the pink? That's 100% silk by the Hand Maiden. Lovely. My new fancy shmancy long johnies-to-be. I found a pattern in Rowan Knitting Book #4. I'll just have to figure out how to adjust it for the finer gauge of the silk. And then there is the bit of orange peeking out... That's a pretty lace wrap I started a while back. It's not that I don't like it anymore, or it's too difficult a pattern... Just kind of got bored with it. But that's not even the whole truth. Lace is very difficult to knit, I discovered the hard way, when there is a bouncy (nicest word I could come up with for my kids' unruly behaviour!) 5 and 7 year old in the vicinity. Not enough time in the day for my favourite hobby.


And then there is this wool crochet nightmare I've gotten myself into. My dear husband loves heavy blankets in winter. That's fine. He especially loves wool blankets. I finally got the hint when he started using the 3 meters of heavy wool fabric I had in my sewing room as a blanket. Does anyone know how many single crockets it will take to make a blanket large enough for a king-size bed? I don't want to think about it. I'd have to open a bottle of wine and I have to get ready for work now.

And she's Back

Lois is back. It's a little unsettling how quickly she made herself at home here. Almost like she put on a big show for her adoptive family, pretending to be all scared of their "mean, old doggie" (Lois' words, not mine!). They returned her to the SPCA, claiming that she was absolutely terrified of their old Scottish Sheep dog. Yeah, ok. I have an eight-year old English Springer. She wasn't the least bit scared of MY dog. I get the impression she is comfortable here. Hmm. Six cats live here already. Does that sound like I want to adopt another? Not.

In other news, I have to say that I have extremely nice and generous friends. Jo-Ann is an example. I visited with her and her animals today. Jo-Ann co-exists with many, many exotic fiber animals: llamas, alpaca, angora goats... In exchange for fiber, I am one of her knitters. A better system could not exist. And today, she lent me the use of her spinning wheel, to take home and learn to spin on and practice on until I can afford to buy my dream wheel: The Kromski Mazurka. A Polish-made spinning wheel for a Polish born and bred fiber-a-holic.

This is Annie

Annie is my only female cat out of six. A cat after my own heart. See that ball of Briggs and Little wool she has her claws into? Difficult to knit socks with little kitty claws controlling the wool. And the Very Harlot poncho she's got her arse on? Let's just hope there was no feline flatulence going on there!
Isn't she sweet? Has an awesome purrr, too.

All Life Is Precious

Albert Einstein was a very wise man.

OOOPS

Four months will tell the tale, I suppose. The spotty-nosed virgin in the middle is Dawn. On the right is Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy is a wether. Or not. Mr. Darcy and Dawn were friendly this morning in the biblical sense. Ooops. Virgin no more. And upon inspection, it appears that
Mr. Darcy has parts he shouldn't, albeit well-concealed. So by early January 2006, I could have a lamb or two, or not. Mr. Darcy is here merely for his fleece, and good looks. The plan was to bring a studly ram from another farm to service my woolly girls. But you know what they say about all good plans...

Goodbye Lois

Goodbye Lois. You have been adopted but some really nice people and I hope you will be very, very happy in your new home. You sure know how to find the most comfortable spot in the house for your "little" siestas!

Pretty Flowers

It's been raining on and off for the past couple days. Not a bad thing, let me assure you. Everything grows in the most wonderful way after the rain. The flowers are blooming with renewed energy and the veggies are keeping me busy picking. At last!

I interrupt the regularly scheduled program...

...to announce, in somewhat disgruntled manner, that pet store owners do not know everything there is to know about animals.

It turns out that Spike is actually, now and forever, Spikerella. I know she was small when I bought her... but H, E, double hockey sticks!!


She's still cute. And all grown up. Can you tell?

Treasures

Some will tell you that your day won't be complete if you haven't learned at least one new thing or laughed at least once. Not too much to ask for, right? Especially easy if you live with kids. So where do treasures fit into all this? It's back to the kid thing: learning to look at things in a new light, or from a new angle or with child's open mind. And I'm telling you, you WILL find treasure in the least expected places! An example...

The glass cat. MY treasure. NOT for kid hands. The glass cat and I were meant to be together. This was a very special find in one of those unlikely places: I was returning my recyclables. It was sitting on a high window ledge among other unique bottles. The colour of amber, it caught my eye when the sun rays lit it up. I love amber. In a shape of a cat? Well, that just sent me into a fit of giggles. Yes, then and there. Hubby and the recycling guy probably thought I lost my mind. Did I mention I love cats? After establishing that the recycling guy was willing to part with it, I asked him his price and paid the nice man, what to me seemed like a pittance. An amber cat! Imagine. And I don't have to feed it, put up with it shedding, or change it's litter. Yes, definitely a treasure. The best part about this particular treasure? It makes me smile every time I look at it.

About James

This is James. He doesn't like rainy days much. Can't you tell? Good thing the sun is shining again.

He's lived here at the farm about a year now.
There he was, sitting on the side of the road one day as my daughter and I were walking to visit a neighbour. He was all fluffy and very kitten-cute. All kittens are cute, right? So naturally we stopped and gave him a pat and a scratch behind the ears, and resumed our walk, only to find him following us. HONEST!! We DID NOT say "here kitty, kitty" in hopes of having him walk with us. He did that all on his own. We thought he went back to where he came from when we didn't see him on our walk home. But when we were almost to the house, there he was again. Kind of skinny and hungry looking... So only naturally I set out a bowl of food and water for him on the deck. (Not in the house. That would have been the equivalent of inviting him to move in!) Over the next couple days I made phone calls to try find his owners in hopes someone would claim him. Nothing. On the second day, my darling hubby (not cat loving person, as he tells everyone) told me I might as well bring him in the house. (We) I already had five (5) cats at that time. The rest is history. He made himself at home very quickly. Got along well with the other cats, to my surprise.

Turns out he's a fine mouser too.