I’ve been meaning to write.  I know you don’t want to hear any excuses, and I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about me and sewing, and me and spinning, and me and the kitchen.  Well, none of them are true.  I may have picked up a few needles with eyes lately, but they’re not really much of a temptation these days.

But things have changed between us, and we both know it.  I’m not leaving you–I just need a bit of freedom.  Freedom to leave the couch, and see people who, well, who don’t knit.  Or don’t just knit.  I’m not turning my back on you.  I promise!  I’m just trying to reconnect with some old friends who were feeling a bit neglected.  Namely, soil, and flowers, and vegetables, and some people. 

All that talk about the Maryland Sheep and Wool festival was true, you know.  I did go.  I just focused on people and music and the great outdoors rather than, well, you.  I’m sorry.  I did hang out with both Rowans, boy and girl (knitter), and with Brooke (she knits) and Mary (she makes us knit), and the Two Sock Knitters, and Juno, and Jayme, Janet, Jinann, Carol (all knittets and most spinners)–heck, all sorts of knitters were there.  And look what Mary made:

It’s not the best of pictures, but that’s the top of an ironwood walking stick.  It was hard for me to photograph, because it’s about seven feet tall.  And it’s essentially the predecessor to the fallow-deer antler distaff she’s making us.  It looks like she’ll use beech.  Isn’t that great?

And remember that green bag we were working on?  It’s finished, and at Tuatha.  I needle-felted some fiddle-head inspired designs on it.  I know they’re hard to see there, but the fuzz isn’t as powerful at obscuring the detail in real life.

But before Maryland Sheep and Wool, I really started focusing on plants.  It happens, you know.  Don’t worry.  I’ll grow some flax.  For now, though, I want you to meet some of my other friends.

This is sandwort, and blue-eyed grass

And their neighbors, bachelor buttons

And cransebill

And clematis

Round back, there’s Golden Star (she’s a native).

And more clematis

And iris

Verbascum

and lilac.

I know they all look strong and well, but some parts of the garden need serious help.  While you and the festival got all of my attention last summer, the Egyptian walking onions and rosemary and strawberries were attacked, see:

They need me.  But I promise to come back once it gets hot.  Knowing Virginia, that could be next week.  I’ll tell you all about it while we work on the blanket, ok?  Ok.

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