A note of thanks, and spring shoots

Soon, this will be here, from a friend who moved away but keeps in touch

in response to my request for advice. C. simply said here's some nice cotton yarn, want it? Look at those colors! Just beautiful.

What I don't knit for myself will go into socks and gloves for the Knitting Ministry. 

Meanwhile, in anticipation, I had bought some very fine cotton/bamboo mix, for the tender bits,

which will go with a heavier yarn for the body, so I cast on, three threads held together, looking promising.  

Thank you for the boost to the Boud Handmade Lingerie Department, dear C.

Meanwhile, speaking of boosts, look at the sudden shoots of the pony palm

It's new and sudden and exciting.  This is after years of growing taller but not showing interest in multiplying. The big stems are the established ones, and here are kittens.

This means the light is increasing though I can't say I've noticed, but the plants have.

Happy day everyone, notice stuff! 

The puzzle answer is

TOUCAN

But you smart folks got that right off.

On substitution and worries

 Yesterday I found my pony palm is busy reproducing, new stems emerging from the parent bulb. 

And the light just striking right, found a spiderweb construction traveling all over the ficus plant. 

Hard to see here, but spinnerets thrown from branch to branch all over. I was sorry to remove it, but I'm not sure it's good for the tree to be stifled by webs.

So much goes on in this household of one which I don't know about. 

And today Krista Tippett came through yet again with thoughtful newsletter including the poetry section. 

Padraig O'Tuama muses on Laura Villarreal's poem,  here's the opening

She goes on to say how she takes care of her worries, mothers them, though they're unconcerned with her caring. And the commentator points out

This is very much along the same lines as William Cooper in Scenes from Married Life where his main character reflects that we tend to get attached to our worries and might be lost without them.

And that in turn reminds me, when I keep seeing subjects for sermons everywhere, of the Rector, Mark Ainger, in Barbara Pym's A Few Green Leaves, thinks sadly that his middle aged parish workers can come up with much better sermon ideas than he can.

All this is just musing as I consider options for the time and sharing I spend on Twitter which now seems to be on life support. I'm pretty sure I can find plenty of interesting thinking without it.

Meanwhile, chop wood carry water, I made a couple of easy quiches yesterday , with some of Gary's harvest plus mushrooms. These will freeze in slices for handy small meals when I don't know what to eat.

Mending 's on the agenda today, 

and I made sure it will happen by finding the necessary bits yesterday and putting them out. That's usually the obstacle to getting small stuff done.

But, best of all, here's a couple of beauties from yesterday's knitting group

See the leather tag, the boutique touch?

And prepare for cute overload here, owner due to arrive in a couple of weeks

That seems more significant than anything I've been thinking about.

Happy day everyone, consider what we'd do if our worries were resolved, hmm.

Liz Adams, four-selvedge saori woven tapestry, public collection of Mercer County, 

Busy day, bees aren't even in competition

So yesterday was a terrific day. Low humidity, sunshine, 80sf, just right for energy and ambition.

So I made the broth, not stock, because it had chicken bones. It also had ginger peelings, and the kitchen smelled lovely.

Maslen bread cooling here, and containers of broth for the freezer.

The bread, here showing the crumb, and toasted with Vermont butter, beside lunch salad of mixed lettuces, tomatoes, dates, scallions and spinach.

The bread was interesting, too heavy for my taste, and not enough salt. I'll make it again, though with a higher oven temp -- hers was 425°, and I usually use 450° -- and more salt. Less oat flour, more wheat and white. But in principle it's a very handy recipe. Definitely a keeper.

Then to the curtain work, which involved numerous climbings on and off a step stool, cutting, tearing and reaching and pinning.  Very aerobic.

The situation, sun way too bright in the morning, i don't like being dazzled awake.

Then the set-up

The idea was to pin the muslin in panels to the existing cotton tab curtains. This involved much fitting and tearing and pinning.

And it went pretty well. I left it to hang overnight before hemming, so as to let it relax to a stable length. Fabric is alive, needs to rest between stages. So does the maker.

And this morning I woke up very peacefully, light in the room muted as I'd hoped. I have many more yards for other purposes, including more window panels, but this was the main event. And the panels are now pre torn, main arithmetic done, so it will go faster.

Then for the blueberry hot biscuits. Only this happened. I ended up with Gary repotting a pony palm we've been going to do for ages and he suddenly showed up ready. He'd got new pot, soil, plant all assembled, who was I to say no, I'm busy?

Then we went on to other gardening tasks involving heaving container vegetables around, I now have cucumbers outside my fence.  To the accompaniment of a Nancy Wilson playlist, his music in the house growing up, his mom a keen fan. And some mainstream piano jazz here and there.

It was punctuated by conferences with neighbors, who are having their floor redone, and he wants to do likewise. Always several projects at once. 

So that's why no blueberry hot biscuits happened. Today.

So much for my short-lived policy of non involvement with the garden.

Hope springs eternal, and here are my embroidered 3D butterflies of hope for Ukraine, fighting more fiercely than ever.

Hope on, happy day everyone!