Doesn't that look wonderful? I spent the weekend up at Bjorklunden, my school's "North Campus" with my clarinet studio (remember I went there last year with a few fellow knitters?) The thing I really love about this place is that Lake Michigan is literally right outside of the lodge.
I actually had forgotten the pattern back at school, but on Saturday morning I remembered that I had emailed it to myself earlier in the week and I was able to print off a copy. I then finished the foot (I actually knit it too long and had to rip out a bit - see above about not having the pattern at first), and then I knit the heel.
...and then I ripped out the heel because I realized I had followed the directions for the smallest size instead of the largest (which, in this case, made for a longer, pointier heel).
...and then I re-knit the heel, but it looks just like the second picture, so I didn't take another one.
I wasn't able to bring my Expedition Pullover with me because I packed really lightly, but I'm halfway done with the second sleeve on that one, so it'll hopefully be done really soon. (Although I'm also currently in my last week of classes before finals and I have to get ready to record an audition tape early next week and I have papers and final projects to deal with, so we'll see how quickly it actually happens.)
I was really lucky this weekend at Bjorklunden because the weather was very accommodating and allowed for very pleasant walks along the lake shore and through the woods. I'm not sure if you know this about me, but I have a thing for nature, and I love to take pictures of it.
Really this is as close as I ever get to an ocean, and even this is extremely rare for me. You should have seen how many eye rolls I got from friends because everything excited me and I kept exclaiming things like, "Look, it's the ocean!" or "Ooh, here comes another wave!" They may think I'm easily amused, but I like to think more that I'm simply still awed by the natural world around us.
And I mean, really, it does look like the ocean (I think).
Although oceans maybe aren't normally surrounded by coniferous forests, but I don't know, I could be wrong.
While sitting on a rock ledge over the shore of the lake, I was able to do some early morning thinking in relation to knitting. I was trying to be aware of all of my senses while I sat on the rock and knit, and I began to notice how differently I perceived my surroundings because of the fact that I was knitting. Normally I would find myself gazing out on the lake, taking in all the sights, while listening to the birds and soaking in the smell of the woods behind me, but when knitting, my perception shifted to one much more centered around the auditory sense. Instead of seeing the lake, I was listening to the waves crashing on the rocks below. I then extended this to the woods behind; no longer smelling it, I tried to hear it - I listened to the wind in the trees, leaves falling, twigs snapping. I then listened to the sound of my needles, the sound of the yarn running through my fingers. How was I contributing to the cumulative sound of my surroundings? It was a really interesting experience.
I also thought about where we bring knitting. It didn't slip past me that although I was secluded in the north woods of Wisconsin along the shore of Lake Michigan, I still had knitting in my hand. I thought about the places we bring knitting as a companion, as a source of meditation, as a record of memories - a documentation of sorts. No doubt these socks will now always remind me of my experience that morning by the lake. I then turned the question around, no longer was it "Where do we take knitting?", but "Where does knitting take us?" I don't necessarily mean that only in relation to physical location, but mental as well. I wondered, if I had been without my sock, how long I really would have spent out there on that rock. Did my knitting allow me the opportunity to experience the world around me in a different way? Perhaps it opened my mind to meditation, or offered enough distraction for me to not notice the chill of the rock, maybe it calmed me enough to allow my mind to be enveloped by my surroundings. We all know where we take our knitting, but I'm curious, where does your knitting take you?
...and just because I'm hanging on to any hint of color I can find in early November, here are a few more pictures.
(and some strange residue left on a rock - I have no idea what it is, where it's from, why it's there, but I thought it looked interestingly like chains of crochet. I'm assuming it's from some animal or plant.)
Take care!
