It was windy today

And a cold blue-grey. Gusts up to fifty miles per hour knocked over fences and flower pots. Branches littered the dirt roads. Almost like God was sweeping the earth clean of dead wood in preparation for the new year. Ready for a new start.

Thanks a lot

Today I'm thankful for:


Our warm little home and cozy basement;


These beautiful birds: the bald eagle who came back to the farm to roost on the dead tree in the hill field on his way South for the season and the red-tailed hawk who followed us with his eyes until we saw him and then swooped low in front of us, showing off, as we walked this morning;


My husband's good job;


Bittersweet and falling leaves;


My family, and getting to see them for the Thanksgiving holiday tomorrow;


A big white dog who will sit! from fifty feet in the face of a bounding deer or a nervous mama cow, but who will go absolutely bananas ("le chien est bananes, b-a-n-a-n-e-s") with a stick in his mouth running down the driveway;


The sweet boy in my belly who kicks when I sing along to Hank Williams on the car radio.

I hope you have a great Thanksgiving tomorrow!


(Now I have to go listen to the Raffi song that inspired the title of this post or else it will be in my head all day-- we sure did listen to a lot of Raffi in the minivan when I was a kid...)

Christmas Knitting

So, long time no blog. Life has gotten in the way. My days have been filled with long walks in the country and baby shopping. A little baby worrying, too, but only because I'm a worrier by nature. Everything is fine. I've been practicing my yoga breathing (right nostril in, left nostril out, ahhh) and singing my ubi caritas in line at the doctor's office and the grocery store. And the boy is growing and kicking inside.

I've also been doing a little Christmas knitting. If you're expecting a gift from me, don't look too closely! Yarns from left to right, for my reference: Socks That Rock lightweight from 2007 Rockin' Sock Club (it looks a lot like Monsoon), Koigu KPPPM, STR medium XMas Rock, some more Koigu KPPPM, STR mediumweight in what could be Lapis (I'm terrible at keeping up with ball bands), and some Silkie STR, also from the 2007 sock club. I think most of the knitting for people with big feet is out of the way. It's amazing how much sock knitting you can get done in the first trimester if you can't get off the couch!

For My February Baby

This little sweater goes part of the way toward explaining where I've been all summer, and why there haven't been any foxhunting reports lately. Our first child, a son, is due at the very beginning of February. I couldn't be more excited!

Knitting on this sweater was a way to keep my hands busy and my mind quiet during the tense and sick first trimester, which seemed to last all summer. I seem to finally have gotten the fabled second trimester energy surge, so hopefully there will be more crafting (and email responding-- I've been absolutely terrible about that all summer; sorry friends) on the horizon. I'm disappointed to be missing the hunting season (as I was telling a hunting friend on the phone this morning, there's really nothing like that feeling), but I'm happy to do it to protect my little one.

Anyway, this is Elizabeth Zimmermann's Baby Sweater on Two Needles (Ravelry link), also known as the February Baby Sweater, from her Knitting Almanac, done up in Rowan Wool Cotton that I had on hand. It was a dream to knit, neither the pattern nor the yarn could have been nicer. I still need to sew on the rest of the buttons, but I can't wait until it helps to keep a little winter-born baby warm in a few months!

New Dear Jane

Two new Dear Jane blocks this week. Both blocks came about when I needed to zone out on piecework. Those foundation papers make this so easy to do, and so relaxing. First is L-5 Chattanooga Charlie, another batik block. This block was meant to be brown, but I like the additional color and movement that the wilder batik adds. I'm getting a little sick of all the brown blocks, and my stash is running a little thin.
And this is M-11, Rickshaw. There was a little more lining up to do in this block, which as you can see wasn't as successful as it could have been. But I still like the finished product. This is one of the first fabrics I bought on my own as a quilter, in 2001. I find it kind of somber now.

The winding road

Seems I like to post photos of this peaceful road on this day each year. A sun-dappled space for a deep breath. When I took this picture this morning around 10 am, it was so cool and fresh in this leafy corridor. I wonder what's around the bend.

The summer between eighth grade and the beginning of high school (how old were we then, 13?), my friend Addie came to the farm with me to visit my grandparents, and we took this road to riding camp each morning. One morning she sighed and said, "Oh, this road is so romantic!" She always did remind me of Anne Shirley, red hair and all (although hers would probably be called a distinguished auburn).

I think the romance is part of what is so calming about this place. It is quiet, but so full of possibility. It always reminds me of that Celtic blessing that begins, "May the road rise to meet you." This road always reminds me to breathe.

PS: Corny today? Yes. But if not today, then which day?

Brunswick

Subtitled: Do you stew?

Today I'm making a big pot of Brunswick stew, willing it to be Fall even though I know we're still in for at least another week of hot sticky summer. With its mix of summer and storage vegetables (corn and tomatoes; potatoes and onions), Brunswick stew has always seemed a good bridge meal. The stew used to be made with whatever meat a person had around, squirrel or rabbit being the easiest to rustle up, but now it's mostly made with chicken (except, apparently in Georgia where it's apparently made with *brace yourself* beef).

In our house when I was growing up, we always called this just plain "Brunswick". It was one of the things that we could heat up all by ourselves for Saturday lunch. My grandmother who lived in Houston but was born in Richmond was delighted when my mother brought her a stock of Mrs. Fearnow's in the bright yellow cans with red writing and those old-fashioned looking pen and ink trees.

This is the stew that is often a side dish on North Carolina barbeque restaurant and church buffets, along with the cooked-to-death collard greens and the boiled potatoes. In Raleigh, I used to make it to go along with oysters done under steaming burlap on the grill. And I still remember the first time I made this in the Little House at the farm. I made the biggest mess of that no-dishwasher kitchen, and ended up giving much of the huge potful away to co-workers and my friend Karen who doesn't like lima beans but can pick around them in this stew.

Late last month, my parents (and my parents-in-law) went to a wedding on the North Carolina coast. My mother told me this story. Our childhood friend, who was getting married, is a native North Carolinian, as are her parents and grandparents. Her husband is from the North. At the rehearsal dinner, Brunswick was served as a side dish, and the Northern contingent couldn't quite figure out what it was. Too thick to be vegetable soup, too tomato-y to be meat stew. "What is this?" asked one of the Northern guests.

"Why, it's Brunswick stew," the Southerners explained.

"What's that?" the Northern guest persevered.

"Well," said a long-time Carolinian, "think of it as vegetable stew that a squirrel tripped and fell into." A clattering of spoons on soup bowls. "Although," she added slowly smiling, "now it's mostly made with chicken." Whoops and cackles from the gathered Southerners.

My stew still needs its corn and hot sauce, but then we'll have a favorite dinner. Hurry Fall!