bugs, berries, booties & boys

On Monday we went out to the Salmon River, where we saw trout. Just baby ones, though we brought a fishing rod just in case. It was Anaiah's inaugural excursion in the great outdoors, and she was a champ. Slept through most of it, she's good like that. I even got to pull ridiculous stunts like arrange her on giant mossy stumps to get pictures of some more of her handknit gifts (it being cool enough up there to warrant such things; it's catch as catch can for woolens around here during this season).



Baby Surprise jacket from Alex!
And Stay-On Booties from our dear friend Kat:



I even managed a few, ahem, shots of the both of us. Sort of.





My favorite part about those (besides that I finally caught one of her smiling!) is that we could be anywhere, except when you look at the reflections in our eyes you can just about make out our view:



There was a boy there, too, of course, more on that later. The berries part first, though. I had a bit of an incident earlier this year wherein I was a Wasn't Believed about something, which (as those who know me can attest) I can't stand. Namely, about the color of huckleberries. Apparently, most people think of them as a kind of miniature blueberry, with a hue to match, and these do indeed abound. But not in our mountains. The kind that you find merrily lining our trails, ripe for the grazing, are quite a different color altogether and the one that I associate with Oregon and huckleberries:



The Defense rests. Now the boy, and a cracker box, who had to change into his jeans after a thorough and accidental dousing in the fresh mountain runoff that calls itself a river. Such refreshing ablutions call for some soaking in the sun afterwards, and throwing rocks into the water and eating round crackers straight from the box.



And lastly, before I get my sorry behind in bed, where it should have been hours ago, the bug. Don't worry, it's a cute one.



And, of course, my lovely mum. A la prochaine, mes amis!

the bees' knees

Hold on to your jaws, folks, I actually have some wool to talk about.
A year ago I was here (psst, it's Australia):





Sigh. It was pretty great. And when I wasn't working or riding horses or eating ridiculously delicious (and expensive) food, I was also designing these for one of Twisted's clubs:





The honeycomb cables in these mittens were initially inspired by the Wheat Heather colorway of Imperial Stock Ranch's soft and sheepy Columbia yarn. Their name, Apis Mellifera, is the scientific moniker of the western honeybee. It is also the root of my mom's name, Melissa (honeybee). So these mittens are a tribute to one of my favorite yarns, my favorite month of the year (October, when I was born and when this pattern was originally published), and the woman who brought me into this world and taught me to love our honeybees.

These mitts have almost nothing to do with anything right now, other than that summer is a great time to knit the small accessories you will need to make it through the chillier months of the year, and I just realized I plumb forgot to share them here. Also, I dearly wanted to post about something other than my adorable children, just for a moment, for those of you who have been snoring in the wings all this time. If you want to check out this pattern for yourselves, you can head into Twisted, over to Ravelry, or just click right here:



Or just enjoy some pictures here for a minute of my sweet friend Star and one of her favorite color combinations -- gold and grey.

on brothers and other oddities

Now we are one month old (ancient baby!), the occasion must be marked, a little note made of the gobsmacking placidity of my days. I am so enthralled, life gallops forward in minutiae! This little girl is now almost a full pound heavier than when we started, and seems to have the trick of smiling in earnest. And I think yesterday she may even have had ... not quite a giggle, but perhaps the single-celled organism that is the primeval predecessor to a giggle.



I have been trying to explain time to my son, and these little quirks like one month nnnnn-sorta-almost equals four weeks is not helping clear things up any. I can't remember when things clicked into place for me, but then I already had a big brother to tell me how the world works, so I got a head start. Anatole is most eager to share his ample knowledge of The World with Anaiah, this must be one of the truest joys of siblingdom. But it behooves the wise to take older brothers with a grain of salt.

The Infamous Lies My Brother Told Me (and that I believed, to my lasting dismay):

• Native Americans are born white; they become brown from spending so much time in the sun.
• Bees won't go in the shade. If a bee is chasing you, run into the shade and you will be safe.
• There is a line in 'Chattanooga Choo-Choo' that goes like this: "Satin and lace / I used to cough on your face."
• A square knot is the strongest knot in the world. It can hold anything.
• Earwigs are for ears.

I can tell that my son will be a natural. He loves sharing truths, especially the ones he invents. I can't wait.

First Fibers

Nothing happens very fast around here. I often fantasize about all the work that I might be capable of. Having a baby only emphasizes this tendency; it would be entirely unfair to my offspring for me to blame this slow pace on them. I confess: I have always been this disabled. The last to finish my art projects in school. The slowest to clean my room (because every book out of place had to be re-read before it could make it back to the shelf. I no longer keep books in my room). People could have written entire histories in the time it took me to tie my shoes; they got old and weathered before I made it out the door. My mom used to say I was slower than molasses in January. Come to think, she probably still does. It's not that I dawdle, per se, I can even do some things very quickly, I'm just not a galvanizer. I don't swoop effectively. I get caught up in details. My college boyfriend often said that 'life, the devil, and Vivi are in the details'. Not everyone has been similarly charmed by this trait of mine.

All this is by way of explaining how it is so much time can pass and I can have so little to show for it, which is bad because I have a lot to do. In the meantime, however, let's linger for a bit more on this new little person, here at five days and then one week. With more to come (photos, that is, the days we might allow are a given). The little sweater was made (of course) by Sorren, and that quilt that coordinates so well is big brother's, newly crafted by their grandmother in Maine. I shall have to do a proper quilt post soon, we are awash in them all of a sudden! Ditto the adorable handknits -- I'll try to keep getting photos of them as they roll out of their drawers. Once again, I am humbled by the generosity and productivity of my friends.







Thanks for slowing down with me for a moment!

Pip. Squeak.

Another baby photo? Oh, all right. Twist my arm.

 

Of course this is cheating. This photo is from the exact same day as the last one! I am keeping all the miraculous developments that have occurred since to myself, selfishly, jealously. Not really, I am just too busy gazing in wonder to do anything so terrestrial as bust out the camera.

For someone who is so fresh and new, this little person already has such a distinct character. She is attentive and still in her very brief wakeful periods, even as she exercises and watches the world around her. She does not seem displeased at all to be here, and that, my friends, makes for a very good companion. I am enjoying the heck out of these quiet days and looking forward to our adventures of the future. And I'll catch those little peepers wide open one of these days, and share them with you, too.

a.lark

Yesterday morning (at 5:22) we made it happen, and our tiny girl, Anaiah, came out to join us. All are well, big brother is a very proud and excited boy, he slept through the whole thing, lucky duck. He woke up to a sunny day and a brand new little sister, and the gravity of his new station in life -- teacher, protector, entertainer. Like I said, he takes his work very seriously.

In this photo she is a mere 15 hours old, taken by my dad when he stopped by to bring vittels and his camera.

 

We'll be back soon, after a fair number of long naps!

Beach Balls are Round

I blithely had assumed that by now I'd have that birthing announcement post and we could all merrily descend into some weeks of watching an infant grow from tiny Magoo into genuine personhood. But. Alas.

 

This photo is only half a day old, and clearly I stuffed something down my shirt. Or there is not yet a baby to behold. But it allowed me enough time to put a camera into my son's hands, perch him somewhere in our garden where we could be at eye-level with one another, and lovingly harangue coach him in the fine technique of taking a billion photos at a time in hopes that some of them will be in focus. He takes his work very seriously.





This is my illustrative method of indicating approximately how much of the photographer's subject should actually make it into the shot, at least some of the time...though the deviations are of course far more interesting:





For the curious: my sweater was made in China (sigh. I know. I didn't buy it, I swear), and the cowl loveliness was gifted to me by the incomparable Star, following a bout whereby I hinted largely that I would be an appreciative recipient by trying to steal it...it's Plucky, guys, I've told you before that I am weak. And apparently my friends are defenseless, or my unsubtle charms just that winning, whatever the reason I am very lucky to have them around, knitting for me.

Back to photos. It was with renewed vigor that Anatole took to being on the other side of the camera, inspired no doubt by my excellent example.







Also: I love our garden. It has this moss that makes oriental rugs appear chintzy by contrast.



Thanks, friends, I have another post up my sleeve if this baby STILL doesn't show up soon...otherwise, expect miniature scrunched up features in the very near future.