When you drive north from Taos, north across the flat sagebrush-covered plateau that seems to stretch to the horizon, you suddenly come across an incredible gash in the earth. It's the Taos Gorge, cut some 650 feet down by Rio Grande River, and spanned by the fifth-highest bridge in the country.
Now follow the gorge to the west a few miles, and it softens. There are climbs on the top layer of basalt -- in a spot known as Dead Cholla Wall -- and hiking trails in the valley below.
We, of course, were climbing, and I was getting in a few stitches when I could. It was such a blissfully cool and overcast day. So lovely to sit and knit and watch the clouds swirl through the sky.
As for the knitting ... you might be wondering what happened to that red sweater that I was so enthusiastically knitting when we were in Sedona. Let's just say: there was an incident. An incident with the sleeve caps. It's now stuffed angrily into the bottom of a knitting bag and I don't know when it will see the light of day again.
So I started another shawl, which is really the great love of my knitting life. This is another Moonbeams -- the final version, in a laceweight alpaca/silk, before I release the pattern. You can see how the m1s radiate out from the center to create the half-circle of stockinette.
Actually, it might not be the last version. I'm probably going to see how it works up in a drapey DK or Worsted weight, too, because I love the idea of having a lush, heavy alpaca shawl to wrap around my neck come November.
And, yes, I'm going to need it this year. I don't talk a great deal about my graduate work on this blog, but you'll all see soon enough anyways -- I'm moving back to Cambridge this fall for one last semester. So in a few weeks it'll be goodbye Southwest, hello New England again. See what Isis thinks about that ..
As for me, I'm in the midst of a tremendous mountain of work, but I'm also trying to soak up the stark beauty here before heading off again.
Now follow the gorge to the west a few miles, and it softens. There are climbs on the top layer of basalt -- in a spot known as Dead Cholla Wall -- and hiking trails in the valley below.
We, of course, were climbing, and I was getting in a few stitches when I could. It was such a blissfully cool and overcast day. So lovely to sit and knit and watch the clouds swirl through the sky.
As for the knitting ... you might be wondering what happened to that red sweater that I was so enthusiastically knitting when we were in Sedona. Let's just say: there was an incident. An incident with the sleeve caps. It's now stuffed angrily into the bottom of a knitting bag and I don't know when it will see the light of day again.
So I started another shawl, which is really the great love of my knitting life. This is another Moonbeams -- the final version, in a laceweight alpaca/silk, before I release the pattern. You can see how the m1s radiate out from the center to create the half-circle of stockinette.
Actually, it might not be the last version. I'm probably going to see how it works up in a drapey DK or Worsted weight, too, because I love the idea of having a lush, heavy alpaca shawl to wrap around my neck come November.
And, yes, I'm going to need it this year. I don't talk a great deal about my graduate work on this blog, but you'll all see soon enough anyways -- I'm moving back to Cambridge this fall for one last semester. So in a few weeks it'll be goodbye Southwest, hello New England again. See what Isis thinks about that ..
As for me, I'm in the midst of a tremendous mountain of work, but I'm also trying to soak up the stark beauty here before heading off again.
Mountain Man setting up his rap from "Lava Flows," 5.11, last climb of the day