Light in the Darkness

Here in the North, the longest night has just passed.

Here in the North, the gardens are empty, the leaves fallen.

Here in the North, the blackness of night and the whiteness
of snow are the chief colours.

We welcome the fir tree, ever green.

We encircle it with lights, to call forth the growing light.

We trim it with talismans, memories of past places,
memorials to the dead.

It is sacred.

May your holidays be blessed. We’ll see you next week.

Quick Like a Bunny

Here’s a spot of colour for Easter: nine of the dish cloths I’ve been making for you.

They’ve been great fun to do up. I have a book, Basic Crochet Stitches: 250 Stitches to Crochet (ed. Erika Knight, Interweave Press, 2008), from which I’ve been working each dish cloth as a swatch of a different pattern. Soon I’ll be e-mailing you, the blogfriends who responded to my Crochet Giveaway (plus Tony, who was on sabblogatical at the time), for your real-life addresses (or anonymous post box numbers). Then little dishcloths will be winging their way through the mail, to land on kitchen sink taps in three different countries!

Just a few more to go.

Holiday Wishes

From all of us to all of you, we wish you…

Welcome guests…

Warm friends…

Just enough sugar…

Just enough scraping…

And peaceful sleep.

Merry Christmas from Lavenderbay, E.g., Cuca, Cai, Fergus, the Song Sparrow, the Tummy-growling Lion, the Elephant, the Sea Lion, and the Great Horned Owl.

A Day Without Nudibranchs is Like a Day Without Sunshine

"Any nudibranchs?" "Don't see any yet."

Well, hi, people.

This morning my e-mail program showed a “please moderate” comment for this blog — you know, the blog I thought I had deleted when I’d deleted my newer one, La Dulse Vita.

The “please moderate” message was spam; but when I went into my dashboard, I noticed “Where are you?” messages from several of you. Months after my last posting.

I’ve also had personal e-mails from two of you. Months after my last posting.

And, well, like… I miss you guys too, eh?

To answer your first concern, Life is good right now. There’s so much to tell you about my home life, and so much I would tell you about my work life if it wasn’t all confidential stuff.

One big problem on this end is that I’ve been so busy with unplugged activities, I’ve been checking my computer only about once a week. (Or for you techies, maybe “Windows Vista” says it all.)

So this morning, I dropped in to Laugh in the Sun and read Alyson Hill’s merry burblings all the way back to July! Her July 24th posting outlines a contest, which I’ve decided to adapt into a Welcome Back Giveaway — thanks for this post’s inspiration, Alyson!

Then I popped over to The Right Blue and there was a nudibranch. It’s pronounced “nudie brank”. If you’re unfamiliar with these gorgeous underwater creatures, you can go here for a summary of The Right Blue’s articles and photos of them.  I commented that a day without nudibranchs is like a day without sunshine — thanks for this post title’s inspiration, Bobbie!

Okay, now I must go play with the dogs, and locate and reinstall everyone’s names on my blogroll, and leave “I’m not dead after all” comments for my old pals on their blogs. But first, exclusive to the blogging community, here is…

THE GREAT CROCHET GIVEAWAY

If you are on my blogroll, please comment here before 2010, and I’ll send you a crocheted dishcloth before 2011! Up to three bloggers who aren’t already on my blogroll can enter the Giveaway as well. Once you’ve commented, we’ll get in touch by e-mail so I can have your address. Groovy? I’d love to hear from you.

Amy Thistle

She Won’t Want it Back Now

Dogs. Whatever possessed us to get dogs?

I’m upstairs, sorting the laundry, while Cai and Fergus are bopping around the living room. Growls, grunts, the occasional yip, a few full-out barks, some slurpy licking.

Wait a minute. That slurpy licking sound, what is it?

Oh, right, it’s one of the yarn swatches I’ve made recently. I hand the swatches over to Cuca as cat toys, but the dogs eventually appropriate them as chewies. Most of these ersatz chewies are in the garbage can by now.

Downstairs I waddle, laundry basket on hip, to find Fergus with one of E.g.’s new, hand-made-by-moi, crocheted slippers in his mouth.

“Fergus, that’s NOT a chew toy.” Taking the slipper from him, I’m about to set it and the other slipper in the coat closet when I notice that one of the ankle patches is missing.

And I can’t find it anywhere.

I’ve Got Your Back