Relocation, Rearrangement, Rethinking

Cliff rose in full bloom

Cliff Rose (Purshia stansburiana) in full bloom

After twenty years at the same address I have moved. I’d never lived anywhere that long before, yet it came as a shock that we had begun considering moving this time last year.

I realized earlier today that it’s been more than six months since my last electronic chronicles were recorded here. Life and opportunity got in the way of blogging. However, when I scan this new place, I see I’ve been very busy putting pen to paper in many journals found pretty much all over the place. Amid paint cans, the chipper/shredder, the wheelbarrow and a multitude of unfinished knitting projects.

During the months away from the laptop I visited my brother in his new place in Colorado and went for a road trip with my mom. I even got back to Orcas Island for a bit. But then life took one of those wacky unforeseen turns. During those many blurry weeks we were scrambling between a total of four different residences and none of us (husband, dad-in-law, me) really lived anywhere. We were just kind of perching amid the shambles of a major life upheaval.

Three months ago, I was a small town girl living close to downtown (ugh, I see that sounds eerily like a Journey song) in a neighborhood my husband had called home for nearly 40 years. Now I live in the country (along with husband) with cottontails, quail, feral cats, too much horehound, views, and incredible, peaceful quietude. On a road named after this beautiful and fragrant native shrub. Now I am contemplating raising llamas or maybe chickens if I can figure out the predator prey situation. Just like real life!

Here’s to navigating the inevitable as gracefully as possible while taking in the sights, sounds and smells of this beautiful new/old house.

What’s loosely related:


Be Kind

Ben's Bells wind chime found on hiking trail 8.14.13

Ben’s Bells wind chime found on hiking trail 8.14.13

After a great camping trip last week and then two nights of sleeping in the bed of my truck in the driveway in order to view the Perseid meteor shower, I’ll admit I’ve been dragging butt a bit during the daylight hours.

I mean, I didn’t sleep in my own bed for five nights so I was lingering a bit too long in my yummy linen sheets for the past couple mornings.

With a husband who is working day and night, an almost empty fridge and a sluggish outlook, it was time to resume my daily hiking regimen and get the shopping done.

And am I ever glad I did! Look what I found hanging on the trail head.

Ben’s Bells, a non profit based in Tucson, commemorates the life of Ben, one of the sons of the founders of the organization. You can’t buy a Ben’s Bell, they can only be found where they’ve been left. And after finding your gift, you’re asked only to “Be Kind.”

Visit their website to find out about various kindness programs, how you can nominate someone who you think should be recognized for their kindness, or to purchase items that help the project to continue, including mini Ben’s Bells.

Oh, and here’s a link to the Ben’s Bells Facebook page.

Ben's Bells project

Ben’s Bells project



When knifting goes right

imageThose who craft may believe that they do it purely as an expression of love for their intended recipient.

Privately, it’s not ususual to grouse to one’s craft circle about gifting gone bad. In these instances, the gift wasn’t appreciated or went unused or, worse, was donated to a thrift shop.

In truth, we ought to be able to recognize that our handmade gifts aren’t for everyone, and if they end up in the bottom of the dog crate or at the Salvation Army, at least they are being used.

But, we don’t always rise to that level of understanding. We want to be thanked, praised, lauded, and generally recognized for our hours spent producing these wondrous handmade items. Sadly, what I perceived as uniquely beautiful, you, my beloved, may have found hideous.

But sometimes we get that validation we secretly wish for and more.

Today was one of those good days, when something I knit and then gifted (we’ll call it knifted, ok?) was:

  1. selected from my granddaughter’s closet by her to be her attire for the day;
  2. worn all day while the two of us were out and about;
  3. the object of four compliments as we wandered a museum and then did a little shopping together.

I have to admit it, it made me feel like a million bucks and you can be sure that I will be knifting for this girl for the rest of her life!

Lasting tributes to our Prescott 19

Here’s an idea for an immediate visual tribute to our Prescott 19: Change our town “P” on Badger/P Mountain to “19” for a year.

What looks like this now

P Mountain in Prescott AZ

P Mountain in Prescott AZ


Could look something like this in next to no time

19 seen at Brownlow Park

19 seen at Brownlow Park

Those small white stones at Brownlow Park probably only took minutes to arrange.

Decidedly a project for the young, repainting the “P” has traditionally been tackled by boy scouts or the senior class at Prescott High School as their gift to the city. It is hard, backbreaking work that a bunch of youth could accomplish in a day or less.

Other more poignant and artistic expressions of tribute will surely appear in the weeks and months ahead, and we can look forward to a more permanent home for the makeshift memorial which rose up at the Hotshots station house, but we could do this NOW.

Spinning out of Control?

Skunkbush sumac dyed yarn

Skunkbush sumac dyed yarn

Not exactly the same as spinning up “three bags full,” but here are the results of my spinning and dyeing adventures discussed in this previous post.

The fibers’ original colors ranged from the white you see on the Navajo Churro sheep fleece they are lying on, to a natural, craft paper shade.

All four skeins were placed in a large ziplock bag with the dye liquor  (orange skunkbush sumac berries gathered locally) and left out in the hot Arizona sun for 6 hours. None of the fibers were mordanted.

I was expecting something orange or brown, and you can see a bit of that on #4 before it turned to a yellow-gold color.

What I dyed & how it turned out (above, right):

Miss Babs BFL "Babette"

Miss Babs BFL “Babette”

#1: Henry’s Attic Inca Cotton

#2: Some mohair I spun on a drop spindle.

#3: Unknown wool, spun by me.

#4: A cotton (or maybe linen) cone acquired at a yard sale, and then plied by me.

After two weeks of daily spinning and plying the fiber my friend gave me to practice on, I found I was hooked.

Feeling worthy, I bought a gorgeous 4- oz. braid of Blue Faced Leicester from Miss Babs. Miss Babs has a great inventory and excellent responsiveness. And the packaging is beautiful and includes a few little extras. Here’s the result of spinning that Miss Babs beauty; about 200 yards of squishiness (above, right). I’m hooked. I want more. I can’t stop.

I don’t have a firm goal to attain a particular gauge when spinning. Yet. I just want to enjoy the process and be able to take it along when I am away from home. So far, I’ve spun next to a lake while camping and at one of my favorite local coffee houses at a meetup with knitting friends. If I hadn’t spun everything in sight already, I’d bring it to World Wide Knit in Public this weekend at the Farmers Market. Sigh.

Yollama Love Lip Stuff

Yollama Love Lip Stuff

So now it’s time to get back to the actual purpose of spinning, knitting it up into pretty little things. I have a stash-ful of irresistible commercial yarns and all this handspun, so it’s time to cast on. Definitely out of control.

It’s been hot and dry here, the kind of scorchiness that dries out skin, lips and hair. To keep me from getting too crispy while sitting on the deck working on my next project, I concocted a batch of lip stuff from Arizona mesquite honey, local beeswax, organic coconut oil, and some delicious blood orange olive oil from the Queen Creek Olive Mill. It even works as a balm for palms and fingers dried out from too much spinning!




Spinning leads to dyeing

I SWORE I wouldn’t get into dyeing fiber again. I promised myself to concentrate on my knitting alone. Then I got distracted, again.

Skunkbush Sumac berries collected in May.

Skunkbush Sumac berries collected in May.

When not looking at birds and snakes while hiking over the past week, I noticed all the Skunkbush Sumac covered with berries.  I love this shrubby plant and and enjoy watching it through all the seasons on my daily hikes around Prescott. On today’s hike, I collected about a cup and a half of them, leaving plenty for the birds and mice.

Our wild rosebushes (you know, the ones that our hybrids reverted to when we didn’t know enough about how to coddle the pricey ones) are producing blooms in abundance right now, so just for good measure, I grabbed a bunch of petals and threw them into the pot with the sumac berries.

After simmering the lot for a few hours, I’ll let it steep, and then refrigerate, or even freeze the dye, after straining it through a coffee filter. I’ll try solar dyeing some of the hand spun I made recently during “World Wide Knit in Public Days” at the  Prescott Farmers Market.

By the way, if you’re in or near Prescott, come out to the Market on June 8 and 15, 2013 and knit, crochet or spin with us. More details available on the Prescott Knitters forum on Ravelry, on the Prescott Knitters Facebook page or in this post in

Wild rose petals added to the pot with the sumac.

Wild rose petals added to the pot with the sumac.

Various sources say that no mordanting is necessary with sumac, so I’ll just wet my fiber skeins (some cotton and wool) and toss them into a zip lock bag and let them sit in the sunshine.

A note on the color: the dye was a pretty orange color for about an hour. Upon closer inspection, it is very brown now. I’m thinking of adding some turmeric to the pot.

More after the Farmers Market when I’ll share results.

By the way, the Montana Natural History Center has a good series of pictures and descriptions of Rhus trilobata here.