wordless wednesday...

then again...

Perhaps Mother Nature took my last post as a bit of a challenge. The snow set in heavy last Sunday night, and we tromped through the blanketed streets of our little town. In the morning the skies had cleared up, but the snow lay thick on the ground. Through the week it mostly rained, but every now and again it shifted into wet snow, never accumulating to much, but keeping the air cold and raw.

It rained through the night on Friday, but as I headed into town on Saturday morning for some last minute Christmas shopping, the rain got thicker and thicker until heavy white flakes dropped soddenly from the sky. Things started to whiten up considerably as I navigated the busy shops to get myself out of the holiday rush as quickly as possible. As I wove the truck back along the estuary road, I had to stop to capture the scene, the quiet welcoming of winter. A walk was definitely in order, winding along the still shore through sloppy white flakes. At home several deer hunkered down in the yard most of the day, leaving behind bare ovals on the grass surrounded by white when they left as darkness came on.

And yesterday, Christmas day. The last remnants of snow on the ground on Christmas Eve got watered down with more heavy rain through the night. The morning woke wet again, grey and green. But as the afternoon wore on, the rain turned white and soon enough the mossy bluffs in front of my parents' home were blanketed. I dragged my mom and AK out for a walk in the last of the day's light, along the slushy road and out to get a misty view across the water. There's some more snow in the forecast to cap off the year and bring us into the new.

Of course if I really want snow around here, I point the truck uphill, up the winding mountain road where the snow piles up on either side high above the vehicles. I took in a little night snowboarding last week, and savoured the morning powder today. We are closing in on a five metre snow base up there, which is ridiculous for December, and the continuing cold temps mean the conditions are wonderfully powdery. My new job this year includes a seasons pass, so fair warning that I might be boring you with snow adventures until April.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday, if you celebrate. And that you're winding up the year with a bit of time for stillness and calm in all this rush. We could all use a little recharge, I think.

this is winter on the coast

We don't get a lot of snow out here. Sure, it piles up in the mountains above us, often tantalizing close, just a couple hundred feet up. But down here on the coast of Vancouver Island the white stuff rarely falls. A couple of times a year the biting chill of an Arctic outflow comes down out of the mainland inlets, settling in for days with bright, clear blue skies and frozen temperatures. But soon enough the prevailing southeasterly winds find their way back in with their dark clouds dense with moisture, and a heavy snow falls on the frozen landscape. The white blanket lasts a few hours, sometimes even a few days, but eventually, always, it turns to rain. In all my 33 years, I think I could comfortably count on one hand the number of white Christmases I have seen.

Winter on the coast is a lot more like yesterday. Waking in the wee hours all snug in my bed, the wind careens past the house like a freight train. I roll over and tuck back in, but the rush of wind and driving rain on the window keep sleep away. All morning the puddle fills up where the driveway meets the road, and little birds puff up and try to keep warm in the wind, flitting through the bare honeysuckle branches by the hanging suet. I keep expecting to see an old woman riding a bicycle fly past the window. Finally, into the afternoon, the rain lightens, just a little. Bundled up, I head out to explore. Here on the coast we don't often get the frozen winter temps so many other see. But there is a persistent dampness to the air that helps the gale howling up the strait cut through to the bone. In the forest the trees sway and shudder, the creek rushes its way to the sea; the outside world disappears in the wind. A couple brave souls pass me on the beach and we exchange frozen smiles before tucking our heads against the wind again.

This is winter on the coast. We hunted for a Christmas tree for my parents this afternoon in between the rain drops, winding our way through dripping branches. The tree brought home, lit up and covered in decorations, a holiday contrast to the grey and brown world outside. We ate æbleskiver and celebrated the third Sunday of advent as another storm came in. The seas rolled underneath the ferry as we crossed the water again to get home.

And yet...as if to make an exception, prove me wrong...on the drive home the rain looked distinctly thick on the windshield in the dark. As we turned inland there was no denying the snow, piling up on the road in front of us and flying toward the car in a hypnotizing swirl. Back at home closer to the ocean, the ground was still mostly mud, but the white stuff continued to fall heavily. Now it has piled up quickly and we're considering a night walk around the block. Because around here, you never know how long it is going to last...

and the rain came down down down...

this photo doesn't have much to do with today, as it is from our kayaking trip last August. yet something about staying dry with a mug of tea while watching the rain come down made me think of it.

Today started in the dark, as AK rolled over to hit the snooze button time and again before finally rising to head to work. The eagles must have heard the alarm too, sounding some morning vocals from the tree outside the window. I lay snuggled in bed, not quite ready to give up the warmth of the duvet and start the day. But I was up before long, trying to warm my bones under the shower's stream and watching rain fill up the puddles in the driveway. The woods were calling but the steady downpour keeps me inside, ever so slightly shifting to something a bit thicker, a bit slushier now and then. I find myself more sensitive to the cold this year, feeling a chill more quickly, and the damp rawness of today is no different. I make myself a giant cup filled with hot water, grated ginger and lemon zest, stirring in a spoonful of golden honey.

December is racing by already, and Christmas is fast approaching without much ready for giving. The same old story. Slowly (the keyword of my now despite the rush of the world) I pull out some ornaments, try to add a bit of holiday cheer to the house. This week maybe there will be a tree. A bit of woolen gifting takes shape in my stiff fingers. The house fills up with the smell of peanut butter cookies. Tonight there is a holiday party, for the man's work, and I must decide what to wear, to make myself presentable. Again and again I pause at the windows, to watch the birds flitting about outside, between the suet and seeds and the shelter of the hedges.

Hmmm, this post is beginning to sound very much like last weekend's... The sun never made an appearance today and already the little light that showed up is fading. These darkest days are hard on the spirit. Instead I do my best to fill the house with light - candles, and now little twinkly bits of seasonal cheer. Do you do the same?

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>> I'd love to add these twinkly constellation lamps to my darkness-fighting arsenal. Same goes for these snowflake lights
>> This amazing work by Anna Slezak has me thinking of getting back to weaving.
>> A wooden reindeer like this is the sort of holiday decoration I'd want to keep out year round.
>> And if you need a sweet treat to cap off your weekend, these peanut butter brownies sound both delicious and surprisingly healthy.

today, in puddles.

December blew in on the ragged teeth of a southeaster. Not particularly cold. No. Yet there is a persistent dampness now, a west coast specialty that seeps into the bones with its chill and settles there for the winter if you're not paying attention. The skies looked both promising and threatening as I stepped out for a morning walk, after crawling reluctantly from the warm bed. I soon learned the latter was the truest, gentle drops spreading out in the puddles turning into a deluge in the blink of an eye. Beware the sucker hole. I slipped through the woods, pausing for a reprieve under a big tree, the small roof of a park sign, the lee side of a tall hedge. My usual loop was curtailed by the surge high tide, driftwood knocking together gently in the remains of storm swells, at the very edge of the forest. I backtracked in the downpour, along the creek that was swelling its banks. All the wild beasts seemed hunkered down too; only one doe and her fawn lingered in the park, and the little chickadees seemed the only birds braving the rain to say hello. I decided my own lingering was through and headed back home to get dry.

Back at home there was puttering to be done. An adventskrans of sorts to prepare for tomorrow's first lighting. The contemplation of the other holiday ornaments, and where they might fit in our new house. All that cleaning that gets neglected during the busy weekdays. Dishes. Starfish stitching. Finally completing and hanging the pinecone garland I've been thinking about for weeks. Watching the wee birds that flit to the suet outside the kitchen window. All while the rain fell steadily outside. You know, a whole lot of nothing that seems like something at the time.

How was your Saturday?

gale force...

They roll in one after another, storm after storm.  November is wrapped in a howl, a shriek of wind rattling through bare branches, a froth of whitewater pounding the shore. Last night I lay awake, watched the clock blink to 3:33 as the rush of wind swirled around the house and the trees creaked and swayed. Tonight could be much the same. In the middle of the day the wind calmed, bright light tried to poke through the clouds. A little window in between, an exhalation, a lull. We stepped outside for an amble down the road and through the woods. But as the tendrils of evening began to set in, so too did the wind, first tickling at the trees and then blowing through them in great sighs. I rode the ferry back in darkness, feeling the deck shift and shudder underneath us. My truck veered sideways again and again on the rain-slicked highway, pushed by the strong gusts, and even in the black night I could see the white-capped peaks of swell after swell marching toward shore. Now tucked into the house, one small candle burning as I contemplate bed, and a staccato of rain on the windows accompanies the whirling and rushing of the gale outside. I check the current conditions again on the marine forecast, my compulsive habit. Southeast 34 knots, gusting to 42. A mighty wind blows indeed.

By tomorrow morning, there may be another eye. But by afternoon another tempest will be moving in, and Monday will follow the same pattern. The rhythm of the coast. The rhythm of November. Up in the hills this rain is a blizzard, and many an island skier is dreaming of a winter wonderland. Soon. For now my dreams will be woven with the last swirling leaves and the soundtrack of swaying evergreens, the thunk of branches torn free and cast recklessly upon the house. Time to tuck in, curl up under the quilts against the warm man beside me. The storms of winter are here.

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>> These photos have nothing to do with the above contemplation, although storm watching is an increasingly popular activity on the west coast of the island. AK and I made a little journey out last weekend to soak up the wild Pacific before we both get caught up in winter in our valley and on the mountain above, both our jobs (well one of my jobs) revolving around the white stuff piling up in the hills. There was even a taste of winter to come on the drive over, winding up through the pass with rain changing to white flurries beating the windshield and snow piling up under the tires. But it was a break we needed and revelled in, even as short as it was.

Keep warm, lovelies. Winter is coming.

getting back to it...

a few shots from the weekend, a deep breath taken by the western sea. there was sideways rain, thundering hail, even a fresh dusting of snow our last morning. but in between there was also a good dose of vitamin d, beautiful sunshine to warm your bones, and possibly the most vibrant rainbow i have ever seen. there was also a bit of exploring, lots of good food and drink, and so much laughter.

as usual though, i'm having trouble getting back into it this week, so far feeling quite unfocused as the to-do list looms over me. it took all my energy last night to wrap up a few packages to head out in the post today. tonight though, i must get back to work.

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a few things:
• i made these spicy lentil wraps last night for dinner - so tasty! (not to mention healthy after many goodies eaten on the weekend)
• it wasn't a total indulge fest though - i made this beet hummus to take along and it was awesome.
• have you seen the pieces Margie is working on right now? i'm in awe of this one especially.

flotsam & jetsam...

>>> as promised, the final pieces of the sketchbook - a fairly quiet cover, just a bit of stitching in shimmery thread to add some texture. my original idea for the centre spread involved a bit more dexterity than i think i have right now. instead, i decided i would include a bit of myself, a little insight into the sketcher. plus a silly little poem. the book is now in the hands of canada post and on it's way to brooklyn. now what should i draw?

>>> i haven't done any dyeing in quite some time, but i've had some pomegranate peels in the freezer since christmas and it seemed a about time to try them out. i simmer the peels for an hour, and then strained the dye liquid into a jar with the fabrics. i let them sit for about five days. i love the buttery silk the most, but the two linens have their charms as well (the one on the left was beige to start). wild colour said pomegranate can be a mordant too, so i didn't pretreat the fabrics before dyeing.

>>> a cold wind is blowing today, and i slipped out to a new beach this morning, trying to beat the rain. as soon as i hit the shore i was numbed, and it took all my effort not to retreat back to the car. but i stumbled along on the uneven rocks, searching for shells and other treasures as the building swell stomped up the strait. surf scoters rode the breaking waves, unperturbed by the chill. i watched a clever gull hover in the air, dropping a shell to the ground. it repeated this action until the clam was broken and it could get at the meal inside, then did it again with another one. even though it was far across the strait, i could see a tug boat heel up and then smash into each wave trough, sending spray over its bow as it made its way south with heavy barge behind. the energy of the storm filled me up, renewed me. but i am glad to be tucked in at home again, sheltered from its frozen blast. tonight is a good soup night - white bean, tomato and bacon via jamie oliver's recipe app (sorry, no recipe link online). maybe another movie (last night we watched 50/50 - good), or maybe we'll just be wowed by the skilled athletes of the x-games. what are you up to?

thaw

see? i told you our ice and snow wonderland was about to disappear in a coastal monsoon. the rest of friday a flood of water swept down and turned the fresh snow into a sloppy mess. it rained through much of the night, but a window of blue appeared in the sky in time for a saturday morning walk. we crossed precarious bridges over melting ponds and climbed up through the woods as the trees creaked in the wind around us. the wind came through in freight train gusts, swirling around us and refreshing the air. the moss on the trees is so vibrantly green right now, lush with rainwater and set off against the last of the snow. the forest feels so alive in a moment like that.

today we are back to monsoon weather, the west coast kind backed by a howling storm. around our little home we are mostly sheltered from these winds, but today the tall cedars outside are swaying mightily and the smaller trees and bushes continually rustling. a day for inside work - perhaps i can finish my sketchbook? here's hoping the power stays on.

>>> i seem to be getting really in the habit of taking pictures of my feet. here's hoping you'll indulge my little quirk. and really, i do have other shoes - these boots just happen to be the best for walks, especially the slushy, sloppy kind.

>>> sending some positive thoughts to my parents - they are trying to escape the cold wet coast today to head for mexico, but currently they are stuck on their little island as the ferry is holding in dock due to the weather. here's hoping it runs again soon so they can leave for the airport this evening!

soaking up the sunshine...

today the wind howled, coming through the trees in thundering gusts and sending the last of the leaves in large swirls across the streets. the rain was heavy, sideways. at times it even became snow, twirling in blizzard like swirls. when i came home there was remnants of white slush on the grass. i love a good storm, but you'll forgive me if today i choose to turn back the clock a couple days to the gorgeous sun we had on monday.









in between errands, i took a walk along the river estuary, letting the sounds of the city and even the people walking the path with me fade out, and focusing instead on the gentle rustling of leaves in the north wind, and the cheep and call of so many birds. the glacier in the distance, blinding white under the bright sun. i watched two eagles cartwheeling high above, and ducks weaving in and out of the weeds in search of food. one did a spot-on impression of donald duck. i sat for a long time just soaking up the light, my eyes following the eddy lines as the tide swirled back out into the bay. the glistening heads of harbour seals popped up here and there, until with a gentle arch of speckled grey-brown back they would disappear again.

it is an island pastime to talk about the weather. there is always something to discuss - it changes constantly and its fluctuations seem so ingrained in our daily routines. "they" are predicting another cold, stormy winter, and today was certainly an indication they could be right. so i'll take my sunny days where i can get them. all the better when i have a moment to pause and soak it all in.

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• love seeing another maker at work, especially when they are also enjoying a bit of sunshine
• i think i need to bake this apple, aged cheddar & sage loaf this weekend

popping in...

just wanted to say a quick hello with a few pictures from the past few days. i've got more images to go through, and hope to share more soon! hope you had a restful holiday. i don't have to be back at work until wednesday, so am enjoying a little recoup time back at home after lots of family time over the weekend.



we had a miserable southeaster come through, starting on the 23rd. on christmas eve, the wind was howling and the rain fell sideways. i snapped a few shots on the way up island, but there was no way i was getting out of my car! thankfully the ferry to my parents' island was running, although it was a bit a of rocking ride!



inside my parents' house, all was warm and cozy as the wind swirled around outside. my parents are from denmark, so we celebrate with a big dinner and present opening on christmas eve.



my dad got the tree this year with the help of my niece (7) and one of my nephews (8). and then my mom and niece did the decorating. i think it looked wonderful.



the day before, we had watched the birds frantically feeding in the cold. they had trouble with the suet feeder though as it whipped around in the wind. this fox sparrow had a bit more luck on christmas day, when the wind died down, at least for a little bit.

could it be?

It just might be possible for us to have a white Christmas. White Christmases are pretty rare around here, but it's definitely in the air, and by "in the air" I mean freezing arctic outflow wind. Snow in itself is a rare occurrence around here, showing up in light dustings that disappear nearly before they hit the ground, or one or two good dumps per winter that also start melting and turn to slush right away, which definitely takes the charm out of a foot of white stuff on the ground.

But this stuff is different, perhaps (says she full of doubt and years of cynicism). After a week of freezing temps and a bit of snow on the weekend, this stuff started this morning and fell most of the day. It's light and fluffy, which has me dreaming of powder on the mountain (which is finally opening this weekend, geez). With more snow forecast for tonight, then cold and clear and cold, and more snow on Sunday, it just could hang around long enough for the holiday.

I took a little walk down to the beach this afternoon, after heading home early from work where it was still heavily snowing (ugh for 35 minute drives that became over an hour both to and from work today, but thank god for 4x4 and winter tires). I love how the snow dampens sound and makes you feel isolated. I was only 50 metres from the highway, but huddled in my puffy coat and watching the ducks in the frigid water made me feel all by myself, tucking my face against the icy wind.

Anyone else blanketed with snow? I'm back inside now, with the woodstove crackling, working on some gift knitting. My brain is already swirling with plans for the year ahead- I figured out double knitting the other night, so am eager to cast on for the Tapestry Cowl as soon as the previously mentioned gift knitting is done. Also on my new skills to learn in the coming year - entrelac, and lots of fun sewing projects. And hopefully improve my snowboarding skills...

fire in my belly...

sunday was one of those clear, crisp days that make winter easier, the sun sparkling through the tree, nearly warming you if you stayed sheltered from the wind. A is in charge of alpacas and sheep while my folks are in Cancun (i would be but it adds far too much to my daily work commute), so we spent the day on the island. started the day late with scrambled eggs and veggies, including these lovely cherry tomatoes. we went for a walk at the beach, checking out the ice that spreads across the harbour, driftwood suspended in its clutches. but by mid afternoon A convinced me to shun the weather in favour of several hours spent in front of the tv, watching the boys play ball.


but on to what i really wanted to talk about: project spectrum. i've decided to participate for the first time, hence the red theme to these photos. i'm working on some fingerless gloves out of this gorgeous colinette jitterbug - the colourway is morello mash. far to pretty to disappear on my feet, so it's been waiting for me to get motivated. project spectrum seemed like a perfect excuse to finally let it shine. looking forward to see what others come up with in the fire theme.

oh, i also finished my neckwarmer from the previous post - it's been working out well. somehow i missed posting about it, but please check out the FO on ravelry.

warm wool, cold snow...

well despite what i said in my last post, and the ache in my fingers, it would seem i can't stay away from knitting. turns out i go crazy if i'm not doing something with my hands, so i've been making small inroads in a new project.

bet you can't guess what the yarn is - ha! it's only too obvious what yarn can bewitch me with such lovely colours. i've had four skeins of this since october, and been trying to find a suitable project. this may or may not be it, but is keeping me interested nonetheless. i am working on a cowl/neck warmer variation of the maple seed hat, and i like that it is vaguely cable reminiscent, but not heavy, and somewhat lacy, but not too lacy. and i like the way it twists as it climbs. this pattern is virtually identical to the beaufort hat pattern that i made for my brother-in-law, except you do ssk instead of k2tog, and i had been wanting to revisit it since that toque was gifted so quickly after completion. i'm sure this pattern won't take all four skeins, probably just two, but i'm sure i'll find something else for the leftovers.

and from the first photo, you might see that snow has fallen again - hey, around here it used to be an anomaly, but not this winter - and at the moment the sun is peaking through the clouds, adding sparkle to the fresh whiteness. for a bit the snow continued to fall ever so lightly, much like dust swirling in a ray of sunlight. i might get out on a walk later today and then have some more photos to show, but for now i'll leave you with this glimpse of spring, however distant it may be - the rhodos valiantly pushing forward despite the cold.

come on in, the water's fine..

Today was bright and sunny, and of course we are past the hump and days can only get longer from here. Might also have been because I slept in much later than normal so there were no dark morning hours today (but will be tomorrow when I have to go back to work!). Even made it out for some vitamin D in the afternoon, enjoying the day now that the holiday rush is over (and avoiding the consumer blitz that is boxing day). But it still gets dark awfully early, and the moon peering at me through the window tells me how cold it is outside, and there is the promise of some snow before morning according to those lovely folks at Environment Canada. So maybe I won't be going to work...

But let's talk socks shall we? These are great fitting socks. I based them on knitfreak's Aquaphobia socks. I fully intended to follow the pattern, but appear to have an experimental streak and deviated some. I followed the basic slip stitch but changed the cable, and added a second cable. I used a short row heel, and started the slip stitch under the sole of the heel to add a bit of reinforcement, and used 15 rows of 2x1 rib at the top to finish it off. The colour is a bit wilder than I would normally pick, but instantly attracted me at the store. It has, however, been sitting in my pile for many months now. I tried to knit this yarn up into some Leyburns, but that didn't work out. I think this pattern is a great accompaniment for yarn like this though. Hence the blog title, if you didn't get that - try out the Aquaphobias if you get a chance.

Of course, inside lighting with flash is not very conducive to photographing the texture and detail on these socks, so please forgive me. Instead, pretend you're sitting with me watching bad tv in front of a warm fire. Breathe easy, the holiday rush is over!