Iso Socks

This is what my hands looked like over the weekend.

Dirty climbing hands. As the rope runs through your metal gear and across the dusty rocks, it picks up this gray sheen. And as it then runs through your hands while you're belaying or rappelling, it deposits this metallic dirt on your skin.

This is why knitter-climbers need to have dark knitting projects.  Accordingly, this is what I was picking up and working on -- with those filthy hands -- in between climbs:

 

Mountain Man's socks.  I do a seamless cast-on at the toes, then increase until it's wide enough.  Then I switch to 2x2 ribbing for the top of the foot:
 

When the foot is long enough, I do a short-row heel, and then I continue up the leg.  I stay with stockinette in the back until the top of his heel, at which point I do 2x2 all around. 

I love how the mottled greens of the yarn reflects the palette this landscape -- the spectacular quartzite cliffs and pine forests of Isolation Canyon.

 

Which, sad to say, is no longer very isolated now that the guidebook has come out (sigh).  There were over 30 people there on Sunday ... sceney atmosphere ... sporty climbers spilling their chalk carelessly ... loud voices echoing off the rock walls ... an unfriendly dog that wanted to bite me ...

I fell in love with this canyon when it had a wild, quiet beauty.  It was never mine, of course, and I have no right to want to keep it hidden. But. I felt a deep sorrow to see it turned into this scene, and I don't think I want to go back for a while.

New York jaunt

Up, up, and away ....


from the western desert to the eastern megalopolis. New York.


It was a quick trip. No time for sightseeing, except for the city streaming around me as I kept my schedule.


I was there for this ... an energy policy conference ... hosted by the New York Times. Here's T. Boone Pickens, speaking in a panel moderated by Tom Friedman.


And also this ... several days of dissertation research at the Rockefeller Archive Center ... which is in an opulent Rockefeller family mansion in Westchester County. I wish I could show you some of the documents, which were the real gems of the place. But here's a peek at the house itself, with a crystal chandelier and painted wallpaper in the dining room.


I came home with several hundred document photos. And dozens of pages of single-spaced notes from the archives. And pages of hand-written notes and ideas sparked by the conference.

Also, sock knitting from all the travel time.


Also, a cold. For all its charms, New York is also a clammy, crowded, sunless germ-incubator.

So I was greatly relieved to be winging my way back to Arizona.


Which laid out its beauty -- a glorious sunset and dramatic topography -- to welcome me home.

prickly

It is ... a prickly time for me.


Seriously, I can't believe anyone survives their dissertation with their sanity intact!

pinning out the wedding shawl

My wedding shawl. Yards of "print o' the wave" lace knitting in ivory alpaca.


I wore it at my wedding, and at a family wedding. And now I've delicately pinned it out for a friend, who is considering wearing it for her own wedding (something borrowed).


Pinning it out -- hundreds of little points in a row -- is a meditative act. I don't have reason to do it often, maybe just once a year. But whenever I do, it makes me happy.


Simple beauty.

Madder Root

A few weeks ago, I did my spring garden clean-up. And in pulling out the dead stalks from the madder plants, I accidentally pulled up a bit of a root as well. I thought you'd like to see it ... vibrantly orange/red, glinting with bits of soil.




I managed to get one madder seed to germinate in 2009, and it grew into a wild, tangled patch over the last few years (for evidence: see the 2010, 2011 updates). If it weren't contained in a whiskey barrel, it would have taken over that corner of the garden!

Madder needs at least three years to grow before you're supposed to harvest the roots for dyeing. This should be the summer of harvest. To be honest, I kind of lost my fervor for natural dyeing. But perhaps it'll be the excitement of these madder roots that will bring it back ...

sunburst

I finished the canary-yellow shawl. What a BURST of sunshine!


I have to admit, up until the blocking I wasn't sure I liked it. The yarn -- a light fingering superwash wool -- made a stiff, uninspiring fabric. It seemed small. And lumpy.


But blocking works wonders. The fabric relaxed. The lace bloomed into its glory.


The garter stitch edges, which had been horribly blocky and curling


Stretched out into delicate tendrils


It's like watching a tight, wrinkled rosebud unfurling into a lush, loose rose ...

weekend update

just a day trip, a wee excursion to Tom's Thumb


Mountain Man climbed


I did, too. but also got in a few stitches.


and here's what's shaping up ...


half-circle, lace edging. pictured with vibrant yellow brittlebush

too busy to blog these days. thanks for hanging in there!

city brights

Change of scenery ... flew back east for a work trip to Boston ...


And with all the travel -- planes, trains, buses -- I made good progress on that yellow shawl. It's a half-circle of stockinette with a wide lace edging, and I'm already on the lace section.


It's funny. I was never into yellow before. Never, never. I have tons of yellow yarn from natural dyeing, but there's a reason this sat in my stash for years! But now that me eye got attuned to it, I've kept looking for yellow everywhere. Street signs ....


Plastic chains along the sidewalk ...


Spray-paint on pavement ...


It has me feeling bright and sunshiny in the winter city.

refuge

We went to The Refuge last weekend.

We had beautiful weather. Blue skies. Sunshine. And the desert was beginning its spring bloom. Here's ragged rock flower (Crossosoma bigelovii), spiky and fragrant ...

and Mexican Manzanita (Arctostaphylos pungens), seen with the dramatic "Torch" rock formation behind it ...

The Sonoran desert is shockingly lush and green at this time of year, as winter is turning into spring. Moss and small ferns sprout in the shade of boulders. Grasses and green weeds carpet the desert floor. It's probably hard to imagine if you've only ever seen the desert in the heat of the summer, when it's bone dry and brown.

And though the nights get down to the low 30s, the days warmed right up in the intense sunshine. Here I am, taking a knitting break with Isis in the late afternoon (working with my yellow yarn!) while Mountain Man and his friend got in their last climbs on the high outcrop in the distance.

No photo of the knitting -- anyways it's just a semi-circle of stockinette for now -- but I'll leave you with the amazing jaggedness of a decaying juniper stump. I love collecting textures.

sunshine

Sometimes a blast of SUNSHINE is just what you need.


Or yellow yarn. That matches the Arizona sunshine and the yellow grapefruits hanging ripe and lush on the tree.


Honestly, I don't even like yellow usually!! I just happen to have a ton of yellow yarn from all my natural dyeing (this is sock yarn that I dyed with goldenrod back when I was living in Vermont, four and a half years ago).

I was in a mood recently when I suddenly needed a blast of its energy. So I put it on the swift (which is also homemade, and which also dates back to those Vermont days).


And wound it into a sunny orb of a ball.


Knitting to come ...

Shelter Scarf, Part II: New Years

Wow. The last two weeks have passed in the blink of an eye. I've been sitting on this post all this time, weighed down by the burden of a deadline, never having the time to work out the words.

And what an adventure to share! For New Years, we drove west, west across the desert to celebrate the turning of the year in Joshua Tree ...


to bask in the sun, work our muscles, feel fingers on rock ...


That was Mountain Man, of course. And here's me, with my handknit, scarlet Cliff Dweller chalk bag:


We had plenty of sweet, quiet downtime in camp, too.


And on New Year's morning, I finally bound off the Shelter Scarf. Ta-Da!!


Very pleased with myself. I think this scarf is so damned cool and clever.


It's knit lengthwise, from one ribbed edge to the other, using horizontal cables that form interlocking circles.


Pattern to come ... someday. I have plans. But it'll be a while, I reckon.

Anyways, one more knitting anecdote from this glorious weekend. By the end of the weekend, I was worn out of climbing and intense sunshine. So while Mountain Man and his friend climbed one last hard route (Bird on a Wire -- they're tiny specks in the middle by the dark spot):


My friend and I stayed in the cool shadows of the valley. And I taught her to knit:


Long tail cast-on. Learned lightning-fast by nimble climbers' fingers.