Does anybody need a cool swim? That's how I started this morning, in small lake north of Lachute, whoosh... washes away heat headache, lightens my hot and heavy body. I see better, my sense of smell and hearing is more vivid, I feel more in my limbs, in my fingers... this was paradise. I woke up before everyone, must have been before 6am, didn't have a clock. Tiptoe downstairs, espresso coffee on the stove and heated milk, opened the windows, went on the deck, heavy cool and wet. There was a big storm last night.
Our belly-dancing was curtailed by the power going out, and just sinking back into cottage couches and watching the light show while the storm passed over us. The morning after, heavy rains all night and memory of the heat of dancing and showing M and her daughters how to shimmy and drop a hip. Finally, a cool breeze. What else, I sat down and finished another sock, and let stillness seep into me. And then I went swimming. And then I drove home.
Yesterday I saw another old friend in Montreal. The talk came around to arans, and the give it away come back to you nature of the universe. Here she is bashfully modelling an aran sweater she knit for her grandmother 35 years ago, which found its way into her closet again only a couple of years ago by a rather circuitous route. Perhaps one of my wandering arans will come home. But in the mean time, I might have to make it a fall project. That, and just keep giving it away. There is this line from Roseanne Cash's album BLACK CADILLAC- "long after life there is love" which makes cry when I think of a humble knit object redolent with the life, love, thoughts and prayers of someone who knit something for someone they loved, or received a gift in love too. I wish I had a piece of my grandmother's knitting.
Does anybody need a cool swim? That's how I started this morning, in small lake north of Lachute, whoosh... washes away heat headache, lightens my hot and heavy body. I see better, my sense of smell and hearing is more vivid, I feel more in my limbs, in my fingers... this was paradise. I woke up before everyone, must have been before 6am, didn't have a clock. Tiptoe downstairs, espresso coffee on the stove and heated milk, opened the windows, went on the deck, heavy cool and wet. There was a big storm last night.
Our belly-dancing was curtailed by the power going out, and just sinking back into cottage couches and watching the light show while the storm passed over us. The morning after, heavy rains all night and memory of the heat of dancing and showing M and her daughters how to shimmy and drop a hip. Finally, a cool breeze. What else, I sat down and finished another sock, and let stillness seep into me. And then I went swimming. And then I drove home.
Yesterday I saw another old friend in Montreal. The talk came around to arans, and the give it away come back to you nature of the universe. Here she is bashfully modelling an aran sweater she knit for her grandmother 35 years ago, which found its way into her closet again only a couple of years ago by a rather circuitous route. Perhaps one of my wandering arans will come home. But in the mean time, I might have to make it a fall project. That, and just keep giving it away. There is this line from Roseanne Cash's album BLACK CADILLAC- "long after life there is love" which makes cry when I think of a humble knit object redolent with the life, love, thoughts and prayers of someone who knit something for someone they loved, or received a gift in love too. I wish I had a piece of my grandmother's knitting.
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