Bringing Up the Rear

So... I still haven't told you about Rhinebeck, have I? Rhinebeck was, well, Rhinebeck: familiar scenes, vivid moments with people I see all too rarely, and a touch of the completely bizarre.


The bizarre was foreshadowed on the Friday morning, when I saw this next to my front walk after shipping Taz off to school. Snow, not just in the air but on the ground, on October 16. It didn't last long, though, and, inauspicious omen or not, Ruth and I couldn't wait to begin our adventure. We left around 3:00, and our trip out was uneventful.

And then we were there...









...and then it was time to go.

As we drove up the Taconic we admired the sunset over the Catskills, a strip of blue on the western horizon portending better weather coming our way.


Not soon enough, alas. The snow started in the Berkshires and followed us almost all the way home.


And what remains? A bunch of great memories, and, of course, the loot. Left to right: superwash merino fluff from a vendor I always visit but whose name I can never remember; Briar Rose Legend in a purple/mustard colorway that somehow twanged my color sense — I who steadfastly maintain that I hate yellows and browns could not resist this, probably because of the purple — Briar Rose alpaca laceweight; Bearfoot in a solid plum and a colorway called Heather that I'd never seen before.

Bring on the snow: I'm ready.

J is for Jasper

It all started so innocently, when a friend showed me hers. I didn't think anything of it, but it looked so appealing, and it felt so lovely, yielding yet firm at the same time. I still didn't seek it out, but whenever the opportunity presented itself, I'd have just one, maybe two. I knew I could stop any time I wanted.

But of course that was only the first step. I couldn't just go out looking for it without attracting attention: what if someone I knew saw me? Soon I was surfing the Internet, catching my breath as a whole new seductive world opened before me. It's a perfectly harmless pastime, I told myself, and — I must stress this — legal in all states.

Still, there were bridges I'd never crossed: the Trekking, the Koigu, even the Bearfoot might lurk in my secret stash, and I'll never forget my first Smooshy — ah, bliss! — but I'd never bought any STR.


Until now. How could I resist? The allure of a colorway rumored to be discontinued, but suddenly there for the taking.


The softly varied color, the deep pinkish-red shading into purple.

My name is Lucia, and I'm a sock-yarn addict.