I adore Feather and Fan. It made this lovely (yet strangely Rastafarian) yarn look ever-so-much better than it did when I was knitting the scarf in Farrow Rib. Here’s a close-up:
Yarn: Fleece Artist Peter Rabbit (70% Angora, 20% Nylon, 10% Wool) in a color whose name I can’t recall.Needles: 5mm/US9 Addis.Specs: The scarf is 6″ wide by 60″ long, and I used almost the entire 273 yard skein.Time to knit: less than a week of evenings.
I’ve been inspired (or else I’m just crazy) to make three more little scarves for the other women who work at the store. I’m fortunate — two of them are away until next week, so I’ll have extra time to get theirs done.
Time is something I’m really short on these days. I haven’t been able to appreciate the season yet. I’ve yet to put up my little tree, but I did manage to haul it out of the closet. A wreath is on the door, the envelopes and packages have been sent to my family, and I’ve gotten as far as creating an image for my holiday card.
I got to do a little more shopping today, my last chance before Christmas to drive to far-flung stores. I’ll be working every day through Christmas Eve, so anything else I need will have to be gotten locally. Our village has some really nice little shops, and I know I’ll be able to do all the last-minute things on Main Street.
I’m in my usual mood this year. It’s not a bad mood, exactly. I’m not terribly depressed. My heart aches a little, though. I miss my family, miss being near all the people I share traditions with. I miss my tribe, the sisters and brothers with whom I stood on the stairs or in the hallway, in a line from youngest to oldest, while our parents made sure Santa had put everything in the right place. I miss that music box recording that meant we could finally come in the room. I miss my grandmother’s sweet rolls, and my father’s plaid woolen bathrobe. I miss the Christmas village, with the skater with the broken foot. I wish I could be little again, just at Christmas, in the middle of my big, crazy, funny old family.
As I was driving home from Sag Harbor this afternoon, the melancholy lifted a little. I acknowledged the effect this place always has on me: I chose to come here, and I don’t regret it, and I get to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. I have another family to be with on the holiday, and they love me.
I don’t want the old days back, because of course they weren’t all shiny and bright. I have plenty of new, sweet memories that I’ve accumulated in my thirteen years here. And yet…