Category Archives: cats

Preparing for First R I Christmas

 

Chr cookies & Dirk

Here comes Santa

Dec. 19, 2015

Today my daughter in Raleigh gains another year. She has chosen not to be with us most of the past 10 years, which feels like a sad ache in my heart. Her son, our only grandchild, is now 11, and we cherished the visit we had together just before we moved away, the first time we’d seen him for five years. At Christmas it’s hard, focusing on today and the here and now, with the awareness of our missing family, but not allowing it to overcome our joyful “todays.”

Our daughter in Connecticut is near-by, and a regular part of our lives in Rhode Island.  She gained a year on Thanksgiving, and I’m amazed that my children are adults! We’ll be with her for Christmas, and are looking forward to that visit. Her m-i-l is in the hospital, mending a broken bone, so our Christmas will now take a different shape, because she will be in rehab, getting her walking back to a secure place before she can go home.

We had hosted Thanksgiving here for my daughter and her husband and his parents. I’m glad we shared the long visit before his mother was hospitalized. That was the second Thanksgiving dinner, the first, shared it with a friend from church who is also in choir. Now I use turkey a couple times a week in various creative ways! I think I won’t do turkey for Christmas this year…

I’ve baked gingerbread men for the third time, plus PA Dutch sand tarts this week, and they will quickly disappear, as we share them with friends and neighbors. As I cut them out, Dirk decorates them, so it doesn’t take as long. I remember the cookie-baking get-togethers we used to have with my NC daughter and friends, a separate table set up for decorations so the small children could decorate cookies while one mother watched the oven, and all of us cut out cookies and brushed them with Dirk’s “egg wash,” so the colored sugar stays put. I think they ate as many decorations as we used on the cookies, but that’s part of the fun. I missed my CT daughter on those occasions, but choosing a job in a distant place brings that sort of sadness.

I sit here in our new home in Rhode Island, listening to the traffic out front on Route 1, smelling the bayberry candle, enjoying the glimmer of the candles in the windows, the lights that wind up the bannister to the upstairs, the stockings hanging under the mantle, the reflection of the tree lights, and enjoying the taste of the gingerbread cookies with almonds as decorations, nicely roasted in the oven.

I gave hand-spun knitted mittens to my gardening neighbor across the street, and hat and mittens to my cousin out west. Dirk has hand-spun socks from a sheep we both knew and nurtured for about 15 years, and I have two new pairs of socks, one from Leah, the white Romney on our business card, and one partly her fleece, partly mohair from Cindy the goat. I’ve since returned to spinning, to replace what I’m using.

Dirk on the horn

The past month has been bursting with music, as I attended about eight concerts between Dirk’s two community bands: LaFayette and Wakefield Concert bands; and we both sing in the church choir, which also has instrumental music at this time of year. The choir director was glad to have us join her, with Dirk and his French Horn, too.  I love every minute of it! My quilting friend, whose husband is also in the two bands, comes to most of the concerts, but she leaves her quilting at home for these inside concerts. In summer, I spun with the drop spindle, and she hemmed her quilted lap blankets for charity as we listened to the music at two outside concerts a week, sitting by the two harbors.

At church, I learned to make a wreath. The call went out for women to gather bringing greens. I trimmed the holly and rhododendron away from the house, bundled it in a bed sheet, as I used to do for the sweet treats for the sheep—sweet gum, tulip poplar and honeysuckle. Never before had the old sheet contained poisonous branches. But the sheep are no longer here. I kept them away from such noxious bushes when we had the flock. I also helped a neighbor saw off a bayberry branch and a holly, so her pathways in her large garden were open again. The tips of the branches came to the church for the wreaths, along with a bundle of red berries from another of her bushes. The doors at church all have wreaths or sprays, and we had a later meeting to create arrangements of greens with the left-overs to bring home. I’ve knitted tiny socks to hang on such an arrangement or the tree, and given some to our neighbors and some friends. Those hang sefely low down on our tree, for the cats to enjoy the tree in their own way.

The newest cats, the two strays who appeared in our neighborhood in NC about four years ago, are no longer kittens, so for the first time are not pulling down the tinsel and knocking the unbreakable ornaments around the room. The older cats gaze at the tree, then take their usual nap in a chair. The dogs investigated the tree, wondering what it was doing inside the house, then went back to ignoring it, also. A kitten does make Christmas more fun.

I had completed hand-spun socks for my husband (don’t tell him—I’ve tucked them away until Christmas), and needed a next project. When I cleaned out my three-drawer small plastic file in which I store samples for class, as well as “exotics”—silk, bamboo/corn/soy synthetic silk, angora from Elaina at Avillon Farms and from Sheryl Wicklund, from their fluffy bunnies, “Angelina” which sparkles in various hues, and makes an interesting addition when spinning wool. I even found some cotton, my least favorite to spin, but I need to demonstrate when I teach a workshop; the takli spindle has never been unwound, after at least 10 years!. In the process of tidying, I found some Wensleydale wool combed top, and started to spin it so as to decrease my stash. After the first day, I learned my daughter’s mother-in-law had fallen and was in the hospital, so I set aside spinning, and went to get some washable acrylic for a lap robe for her. In our Twisted Theads Book Club meeting at Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh a couple years ago, the featured book was Yuhas’ Knitting from the Inside Out. The dahlia lap robe/baby blanket from that book is lovely, and I’ve nearly finished it in less than a week, even with cookies and cards to do. I’ll take a picture when it’s done.

Pat's lap robe

Some women have been coming over to knit on Tuesday mornings. A neighbor had put a sock in her closet eight years ago because she forgot what to do next. She’s now finished the pair and bought yarn for another. Another lady, a waitress nearby, saw me knitting a baby sweater when we were eating there, and wanted to know how to do that. She comes when work allows. I’d hoped to gather a near-by circle of fiber crafters, and it’s beginning—I’m happy! Another woman who plays in the So. County band, has started gathering spinners from the near-by area to join her at the new yarn shop in Wakefield: Two Dots. We’ll meet there again soon.

Santa arrived in Wickford by boat, just like in Holland! I shouldn’t be surprised, with all this water around, and a great many boats. The police boat must be one of the only ones, except the regular fishing boats, that aren’t already “shrink-wrapped” for winter in dry dock—well, and the flotilla of kayacks escorting Santa and the harbormaster! Driving by the harbor, all those dry-docked, shrink-wrapped, boats look like huge, angular snowballs, all in a row, sleeping through the winter.

I just finished a tapestry-weaving class with Jan Austin from our Rhode Island Weaving Guild. I’ll spend more time practicing the craft after the holidays are over. My Dutch rigid-heddle loom is a good size for tapestry, and I made a couple neat bits of art during the class.

I’m moving my Eastern Star membership to a lodge near our new home. My daughter is also in Eastern Star, and is Mother Advisor to the Rainbow Girls in eastern CT. I’ve been able to help her with some of the activities, sewing days being one. I’d sewn for my daughters when they were small, and have continued to sew. Two of the mothers made dresses for themselves for formal occasions, and plan to continue sewing for their daughters now they know how to read a pattern, lay it out, measure, etc. It was rewarding to watch the women learn techniques needed to made a dress fit properly. I’m also amazed and proud at how quickly my daughter has learned a leadership role in both organizations.

The sun is nearly at the horizon, and I realze the shortest day of the year is only a couple days away. I am getting tired of it being nearly dark at four p.m., and look forward to warmer weather and long sunny days again. I’m not complaining—it’s been in the 60’s for a good part of December! Paperwhites are blooming inside now, and daffodils and hycinths are shooting up on my plant shelf in a west window. These fragrant blooms make the winter a great deal more pleasant inside. Two people have given me amyrillis plants. One is blooming, and the other will be when this one fades. What beautiful blooms to brighten winter days. We’ve listened to three versions of “A Christmas Carol” on TV already (Jean-Luc — Patrick Stewart, is my favorite Scrooge) and have saved some other favorite programs to watch at a later time. I’m listening to Mitch Albon’s The First Phone Call from Heaven. Just finished his The Timekeeper  on library books on CD—delightful way to spend a cold and windy afternoon. The fall weather has been like in NC—in the 60’s—until today, when we’ve suddenly entered winter. The deck had an ice slick over it this morning, making putting out bird seed a chancy business! And now, back to knitting…

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Filed under Birds, cats, climate, community, Dutch loom, Family, Friendship, gardening, Homespun yarn, knitting, music, sheep, spinning, Weather, Weaving

First six months without sheep; preparing to move north

When we had sheep, they kept the fences clear. Now the birds enjoy the shelter.

When we had sheep, they kept the fences clear. Now the birds enjoy the shelter.

June, 2014 to Jan., 2015

Long walk in the woods, 1 1/2 mi.

Long walk in the woods, 1 1/2 mi.

This morning I captured a chipping sparrow away from Boots and Liam, and released it to the suet block. It shook itself and flew off, thank goodness. The two rescued stray cats run between my legs, or walk under Emily, the Pyr’s stomach, and move out the door with her. If I haven’t succeeded in re-homing them before we move, they may die on RI Rt. 1, which runs right in front of our home there.

Those who keep carnivores as pets need to be prepared to deal with carcasses of helpless small creatures pets consider their rightful prey. Last week it was a possum in the garage, probably after dog food—the 20-pound bags were tossed all around but not spilled…The dogs got the poor thing. Liam the cat had slipped out at midnight when I took the dogs out for their last walk, so I left the garage door ajar. Fortunately the possum didn’t come through the doggie door into the house! Life seems so complicated sometimes. Was the possum dead, or playing possum? I waited an hour to pick it up, then left it in the hole uncovered the rest of the day, dogs inside, to be sure it wasn’t going to just walk away, which I have seen them do. Not this time. A couple days before that I opened the back door to feed the birds and found remains of a squirrel on the rug, and a mouse a couple days later.

Woke this am. to find a raccoon “treed” in the firethorn on the back deck. Two dogs in the yard provides high risk for the night visitors… Maeve, our Aussie, has killed two raccoons this past summer, and is the best-rabies-immunized dog in the neighborhood. When I called for help, hoping NC Wildlife would come and trap the raccoons and take them somewhere, the employee advised me to take in the bird seed at night to discourage their coming here, and after two weeks, that did work. They don’t move raccoons, since they might be incubating rabies. I, of all people, should know that. I did a Masters’ paper on wildlife rabies, costs to NC when it got here, and oral rabies vaccine for wild things to control rabies exposures to pets and people. Nights are quieter in the house, too, since Emily barks with great volume and enthusiasm at possums or raccoons on the deck in the night. She’s shut in, but we have doors with windows to the floor, and she keeps watch. It’s her job, in her mind, to protect us from wild things who invade her territory. She’s done a great job of it over the years, also. We’ve never had coyotes in our pasture, killing our lambs or sheep, as many of my friends have suffered. Large farms require multiple Great Pyrenees or similar guardian dogs, to keep predators out.

Jan., 2015
A New Year, and still recovering from the surgical repair of damage done in the accident last April. I guess healing always takes longer than they lead you to expect.

We’ll move to RI in the summer, so we’re going through cupboards and closets, as well as boxes in the garage, to see what we’ve stashed, and wondering why we kept these things! I’m donating a great many things to friends who will use them, or organizations who will—for example wallpaper rolls from houses dating back 45 years—perfectly fine to use on a loom to keep the threads from tangling. I’m keeping a little of each to remember, and I’ll use it in weaving in the future, also. Common Thread in Sanford is a weaving workshop with many women volunteering to spend some mornings at donated looms, making rugs, tote bags, dish towels, table runners, place mats, etc., for sale both in the shop and at craft shows far and wide. Proceeds go to womens’ support organizations, such as Interact. They also compete in the Lee County Fair, have a wall full of prize ribbons, and the prize money also goes back into the organization. My box of old wallpaper will go there, since each loom requires a roll of wallpaper, and it wears out eventually, of course.

I’m spinning up great amounts of wool that is not from my best fleeces, just to condense the amount of bulk somewhat. Yarn takes much less space than wool. I’ve started an afghan for us to keep this time, which will have sheep and Australian Shepherd dogs (in their own fur) knitted in with the design. I’m still hoping to find a Great Pyrenees dog pattern to knit in, but so far, no luck. There is no hurry with this project. If we were not moving, I’d be aiming to have it ready to compete in the Carolina FiberFest in early April, but we’ll probably be very busy then, as moving time will be getting near, so I don’t plan to enter anything this year. I will be there to watch the sheep dog herding demonstration, and sit and spin with my friends in the Twisted Threads Fiber Arts Guild circle, however.

The pasture seems so empty and still, the fences covered with stilt grass, sheltering birds over winter. Emily, the Pyr, goes out to the back pasture every day on patrol, as she always has, keeping an eye on what predators may be threatening her acres. We miss the sheep, but our arthritic joints do not. Each year it got harder to clear gutters so water could run away from the barn, to trim hooves, move hay and grain down the hill to the barn, and keep things down there relatively tidy. It was great exercise, and that we do miss. Walking the dogs a mile up the road has to do now as a substitute, and the dogs enjoy it as much as we do. Emily used to live in the pasture only, unless the sheep were up grazing in the yard, when she came, also. Now she can explore the neighborhood, on a leash of course, but she loves reading the signs night critters have left along the road and on the woods trails we walk with them. We’re wondering where in RI we’ll find the same opportunity to walk with the dogs in the woods—we’ll have time later to look, but it will be much colder in winter there.

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Winter surprises, frozen dyed wool, and kitty entertainment

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I’m working on a curtain for our new home, and needed some bright green yarn. I went looking through my dye pot-stash with various colors of dye, late last evening. After I’d plied the mohair I intended to dye it spring green. But I had none 😦  I measured enough of the color green I did have into the hot water, dipped in the Bombyx silk I’ll use to wrap some of the yellow yarn as the green begins, but the color appeared to be too dark for my design. Plan B: I picked up about 1/4 lb. of white Shetland from Vanity Fair’s shearing last spring, put that in the dye pot, added some vinegar and let it simmer, almost, for about a half-hour. Since it was 11 p.m., so I just turned off the heat and the vent fan, left the pot covered, and this morning, continued the process, rinsing out the soapy, dirty water, since I washed the fleece in the same operation, and put cream rinse in the last rinse, when the water was clear. Then, on auto-pilot, I took the wet wool outside and spread it out flat on an old window screen where it could dry, where the sun will hit it pretty soon. As I rinsed my equipment and cleaned up the sink, I found a little more green wool, so brought it out to dry with the rest. When it touched the screen it immediately froze to it!! I forgot–it’s 20 degrees out there! This is one of the delightful winter days when it is brisk and snappy. Note the ice on the screen where the wool had been before I picked up the end and rolled it up. Maybe it will dry faster open to the air in a large donut… It’s wet, so even in the wind it won’t blow away. My pretty green wool is a big ice cube! The ice is still on the deck from our freezing rain of two nights ago, the birdbath has to be tipped over and the ice knocked free to put water in it again at least twice a day. The pansies have shriveled up to little dark-green humps, the lovely kale which I should have harvested at Christmas, is in about the same shape. The onions are visible, but only about two inches is peeking up straight–the rest of the leaves are flat on the garden dirt, partly covered by autumn leaves. Spring onion omelets will just have to wait. However, in NC, when it gets warmer again, in a week or two, the crocuses will bloom as will the pansies, and my garden will come back to life.

Time to shift gears–that wool won’t be available to spin for some time, and I’m still searching for the right dye color.

The next task today is to warp my loom to start a throw rug in the log cabin pattern. I haven’t done this pattern before, but a good friend, also a weaver, assures me it’s not difficult. I looked it up in two of my books last evening, and it looks possible. I turned on the little robo-vacuum to pick up the fluff from the spinning I’d been doing the past two days, preparing the mohair to dye. In the meantime, the robot-vacuum buzzed around tidying, while I pulled out the card table, loom, shuttles, and other necessary bits of equipment to warp my rigid heddle loom. While I was setting up my work space, Boots, our charming two year-old rescued stray cat, was entertaining himself chasing the robo-vac around, cuffing at it, leaping in the air when it came to his toes, crawling under the cedar chest to see what the machine was finding under there that he might have missed. I appreciate the little machine picking up some of the fuzzies for me while I do other things, but it had not occurred to me what a very entertaining bit of hardware it would be for my cats!

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Weaving outdoors on antique Dutch loom

May 8, 2013

I had no idea I’d let this blog lapse for so long! This is due to receiving my mother-in-law’s mother’s loom, a rigid-heddle style from the Netherlands, which her mother had woven scarves on during WW II to help support the family during Hitler’s occupation of Holland. I won’t go into all that. You can read up on the “War Resistor’s Museum” in Amsterdam, and get an accurate picture of what their lives were like during those years of hunger and fear.

The loom occupies my mind. I’ve searched for pictures and instructions on how to use this loom from European search sites, and found nearly nothing. I found one picture that vaguely resembled my loom, but no instructions, no helpful You-Tube videos, to my sorrow. My friend, Louise, who learned to spin in a workshop here last winter, helped me get it set up and warped, and has given me further suggestions and web links along the way. She also suggested I begin to attend the Triangle Weavers in Chapel Hill, which is an inspiring group of  talented weavers.

This evening I decided I was going to follow through on something I’ve wanted to try since I first received the loom: use my own home-spun yarn to warp the loom and make a Nova Scotia tartan table runner for myself. I knew it would take up considerable space to warp the loom, so decided to put the card table outside (thanks, Dirk, for moving the table for me) and used the railing on the deck ramp as my warping peg. That worked out well for two hours, until my back was breaking, and the mosquitoes had come out, and weren’t responding to the Permanone. I came in to turn on water to make tea, picked up my camera, and as I opened the door to return to the deck I heard raindrops falling! I grabbed the big yellow raincoat we use to splash down to the barn to feed the sheep in nasty weather, and draped the card table and loom with it, moving the table right against the railing, covering that, too. I came back in, poured the tea, and heard thunder! Went out again with my beach umbrella furled, bungee-corded it to the railing, tipped it for maximum coverage, and ran back in.

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I had no idea weaving called for such fortitude. Spinning is so relaxing–just lean back and wool flows to the bobbin with little effort. Weaving is another story. I played Nova Scotia jigs and reels of Natalie & Buddy MacMaster and Kendra MacGillivray as I warped the loom, walking back and forth, back and forth, taking a few dance steps from long-ago classes in Irish folk dancing. I pulled out long lengths of yarn to reach around the “warp peg” and back, and got tangled in the rose bush, which is heavily leaved out and budding now. Yarn got hooked in the buckle of my Birkinstock, dog ran by a few times, cats stayed inside the house, simplifying things greatly. Cardinals, wrens, woodpeckers, nuthatches came for their evening meal, while I walked back and forth. As I trimmed the knots to an even length, I tossed the ends into the rose bush for the birds to weave nests with. When it got dark, the birds disappeared. And an hour later, I gave up, too.

I’ll attach pictures of this evening’s adventure, and another picture of a small project I completed recently. I am using a great deal of my handspun yarn, and old sock yarn, also, as I find patterns I can make on this old loom, a treasure, indeed.

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Licorice and Maeve come to an agreement, finally!

3/30/12

In an act of feline diplomacy, Licorice, my eight year-old black cat, who has lived most of the past five months

in the rafters in the garage, or on top of the six-foot tall bookcases in the bedroom, has subdued Maeve, our adopted Aussie. This morning while Maeve cowered on the rug, Licorice confidently groomed herself on the edge of the bed where they could both observe each other out of the corners of their eyes. Licorice sometimes stands on the foot of the bed intermittently spitting and yowling,  her tail and back raised, and each of her short, black hairs standing fully raised also, looking intensely forbidding. Maeve looks at her, and immediately her perky ears lie flat and she drops to the floor, looking cautiously at Licorice with her face averted. I get the message that sometime, somewhere, Maeve and Licorice have come closer than bed and floor, and that Maeve knows what’s behind that yowl and raised back. I feel so relieved and content, now that they’ve obviously begun to make their “arrangements” for some sort of cohabitation. Here’s a picture of the two of them in one of their diplomatic discussions.

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The (Rat, King, Coachwhip) Snake who came to breakfast

This small snake was on top of the curtains this morning as we ate breakfast… probably the cats brought him in under the garage door, like the lizards that show up sometimes. I had seen him disappear down a furnace grate a week ago, and figured he’d turn up again. Dirk removed one end of the curtain rod, he dropped to the window sill, and while he was getting his bearings, I flipped him into an empty cat litter bucket  with one finger. I walked without the cane across the lawn to release him at the edge of the woods near the sheep pasture fence, far from the wrens’ nests around the house.
He’s black with gray diamonds, narrow head, no rattler, very slender and active. Thought he was a black racer until I got him out in the sun. Guesses from friends include a King Snake, Rat Snake, but he moved like the Coachwhip Snake, slender and snapped around, is a climber. I see a different type of snake every year, it seems, that I’m trying to identify by unclear pictures in books. My list of NC Snakes includes 37 types, and most of those are not in my books, but I’m sure would be available on a web search. They describe snakes in ways that I’d need to have both ends of him in my hand to turn him over and check out the scales on his belly to give him (or her) its proper name. I knew he wasn’t poisonous, but I didn’t want to handle him without gloves. He was a very energetic snake… Nearly climbed out of the deep bucket before I could get him outside the house.
That was a surprise, sitting down to eat and there he was! Had fleeting thoughts of leaving him there to catch flies for us… but he wouldn’t have stayed there…  Besides, if any one of these guesses is right, he would have wanted a diet of eggs, small snakes and lizards. Hope he decreases the Copperhead population.
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Creatures out in rain, tame & wild; Helping others-in moderation!

Oct. 20, 2011

 

Liam, our escape-artist Maine Coon cat slipped out last evening when Dirk went to feed the sheep, and returned after a night out in wind and rain, at about 10 a.m., dry and well-groomed. He certainly has found some good hide-outs in his rambles!

 

Two nights ago in a downpour, a poor possum was rapidly going up and down the deck railing looking, no doubt, for a dry pile of sunflower seeds to eat. Nothing was dry that night. He covered the whole feeding area where I find heaps of droppings every morning, in about 30 seconds, rain running off his soaking fur, shaking his head to keep the water out of his eyes, then he disappeared into the rose bush, his nose poking out toward the sunflower seed he could reach somewhat sheltered from the rain.

 

Liam had the advantage to have a full stomach before he slipped out into the dark. Possum was hungry and desperate, so instead of holing up wherever they take shelter, he was seeking supper. After the rain let up, I put seed out, and by morning he and his family had returned, most of the seed had been eaten, and I had to scrape the gray residue of their excrement off the railing before I put down the morning’s seed for the birds. I don’t have chickens, so they cause no harm here. My friends who do have quite opposite opinions, since possums eat their eggs and the chickens, if they can catch them. Their rows of sharp teeth are very impressive, and if they’re hungry, they’ll kill, especially the baby chicks.

 

My asthma has kicked up since I spent two hours with my scythe, cutting off dog fennel taller than I am in Kelly’s sheep pasture. Her sheep finally have an enclosed fence again in that area, but since April’s tornado, that pasture has been growing weeds un-munched by hungry sheep. Now that the fence is secure against coyotes, the sheep are back, but they can only reach leaves about four feet up the tall stalks, and the base of those weeds is like a small tree. I thought since I was working in a breeze, the pollen would blow away and not bother me. Two days later I was in the urgent care in considerable discomfort. Two weeks later I’m still not over it, and have kicked myself several times for not wearing a mask when I have one dangling on the steering wheel for any dusty activity, like putting a few bales of hay in the back of the van to tide us over.

 

So I’m now going to visit the clinic today instead of spinning at the fleece sheep competition at the NC State Fair, my annual pleasure. The sheep are so beautiful, the wool is lovely, and many of my friends have their Shetlands, Jacobs, Romneys, Corriedales and other types of sheep that grow wool for hand spinning there for the competition. Sheep for meat production usually have stiff wool, or are a hair-sheep breed that needs no shearing–they shed like a dog. The wool they produce can be used for rugs, or upholstery, but would be very itchy if used in a sweater.

 

IF I’d remembered to put on the mask I’d probably not be in this condition. However, also since I had the stamina to spend two solid hours in vigorous activity two weeks ago, this too shall pass, and when I’m back to my usual, I’ll be more thoughtful. about cherishing my lungs!

 

 

While I snuggle under my wool afghan, I realize my fingers are stroking a silky, fluffy red patch made from Becky’s fur, and my eyes fill with tears. There it is–a rectangle of Red Merle Aussie undercoat I brushed from Becky many months ago, carded it into yarn and knitted it up into this patchwork of swatches I’d made over years as I adapted my handspun to various patterns. I’m thankful for all the years we had with Becky, and thankful that I can spun the fur of our pets and make little memorials of their cast-off undercoat which will last a very long time. I’ll include a picture here of my patchwork afghan I made with fur from Siobhan and Emily, our Great Pyrenees dogs, Becky, and from Liam and Licorice, the two cats. Two of these animals have now crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but I can still stroke their soft fur and cherish their memory.

Two hours of vigorous activity

 

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