Seduction at The Yarnery

Beautiful alpaca yarn and knitting patterns

Every year I tell myself that I won't spend December playing catch-up with Christmas cards and gifts. For the first time ever, I decided to do something about it. With Labor Day is still a week away, the opportunity jumped out at me yesterday at lunch, when Bob's daughter Sonia showed me her yarn and pattern purchase from The Yarnery across the street from Billy's on Grand. Sonia had taken advantage of a great sale and I was eager to begin Christmas crafting, so off I went to shop while Bob and Sonia chatted after our meal.

I was immediately accosted by a very helpful customer service person who sat me down with half a dozen books of Scandinavian mitten patterns. I settled on a colorful volume of hats and mittens, still pricey at 50% off.  The pattern I chose calls for alpaca yarn, not cheap, but at 20% off, who can resist? Too bad my tastes ran beyond the clearance items, or even those 40% off.

I have two pairs of mittens in mind as Christmas gifts, and I figure that if they really don't turn out Bob and I can use them for working outdoors. They'll be damned expensive work mittens, though! I walked out of the store $59 poorer, partly because I needed to buy a set of double-pointed size 6 needles.

My heart sank when I read the pattern I'd chosen. The mittens are lined, which seems like a good idea, but I wonder if lining doubles the amount of work. Moreover, I didn't even understand some of the terms, including several references to stiches cast on with "scrap" yarn.

 I was a little encouraged this morning when I saw the large number of internet videos, covering virtually every problem I could possibly encounter. Mostly, I was upset with myself for spending so much money on a project that may not even get off the ground before the snow files. Or ever.

Destination North Shore

View from Thompson Hill, duluth

Our most frequent North Shore junket is Duluth and points north, always Two Harbors and sometimes the lovely area around Split Rock Lighthouse. We hadn't been on the Wisconsin side of the lake for a couple of years, until yesterday.

The ride north on I35 was close to traffic free, and almost as scenic as Highway 23, the secondary road we usually take to Duluth. For the first time in recent memory, we stopped at the Thompson Hill Information Center, where the panoramic view of Duluth harbor is one of the most glorious sights in Minnesota. The wildflowers were in full bloom around the building, where we restocked on Minnesota highway maps.

We were on something of a schedule, since we had a reservation on a 2:00 p.m. boat ride out of Bayfield, so we stopped only long enough for a couple of photos. We arrived in Bayfield in plenty of time for the glass bottom boat tour of the Apostle Islands. The Superior Princess is a new (2012) boat but we didn't really take advantage of its glass bottom features. We're really outdoor types, so we spent nearly all of our time on the upper deck.


A sailboat on Superior

The tour of several Lake Superior shipwrecks was moderately interesting, but three hours seemed like a long time on the boat. The weather was ideal, though, sunny but not too hot. Our windbreakers were handy, as the air got a little chilly in the late afternoon.

We checked into Lake Superior Lodge around 6:00 p.m. We've stayed at the Hotel Chequamegon in the past, but it was fully booked, perhaps a sign that its new (how recent, I'm not sure) association with Best Western has resulted in some much needed updating to facilities. Our room was "fine", with a great bed and newer linens, but the plywood doors, fifties furniture, and old TV are something of a downer. Excellent: front desk guy (young and competent), coffee pot (Starbucks), and WiFi (fast and reliable).



Ashland sunset

Had dinner at Bob's favorite Deep Water Grille. He had steak and, against my better judgment, I ordered the Cobb rather than a house salad. The steak was OK but seemed "processed", and my salad was so salty that the sodium meter in my mind went over the top. I did enjoy my house nut brown ale, tasty and not too heavy.

We watched some fishing at the dock just after sunset. Lake Superior was serene and darkly beautiful. Pics in my FB summer album.

A Prairie Garden

Last May, I dreamed about a beautiful wildflower garden until I tilled the dry, rocky soil and finally scattered the green planting crystals on top. I watered the sorry effort and, somewhat discouraged, simply hoped for some kind of "sign" of life.

The weeks passed and a few little plants sprouted, but to my untrained eye the crabgrass looked much like the promised wildflowers. The rain fell on the bad seed and the good, and Bob took to watering what we now jokingly called "the prairie garden". Before we left for Calgary in mid-July, I was delighted to see a few flowers that turned out to be cosmos. Other blooms soon followed: cornflowers, poppies, zinnias, several others I can't identify with any certainty.


I did some weeding and Bob fertilized my little plot when he was taking care of his own plants. The rabbits hide in the greenery and a few butterflies have been spotted on healthy looking colorful flowers. I'm ecstatic and crazy proud of my modest success.

I've started thinking about turning this little space into a small meadow of color, blooming merrily from early spring through late fall. I'm sitting on the deck enjoying my view of the "prairie garden", minus the wine but full of all the summer joy I anticipated last May.

When I'm Sixty-Four ...

Birthday cards include a handmade "Hallmark Classic" from Bob

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

They were just Beatles lyrics, not so long ago, it seems. Almost unbelievable, but here I am, "doing the garden, digging the weeds" ... at 64.

When I was a little girl, my mother hosted great birthday parties, with good games and lovely prizes for the guests. I almost always felt cheated, because my sister and I weren't allowed to win, and it seemed that the prizes awarded sometimes exceeded the quality of gifts received.

The last party I remember was for my tenth, "golden" birthday on August 10, 1960. The day began badly, when I stepped on broken glass and cut my foot. The wound bled, off and on, most of the day, and a Band-Aid didn't keep the blood from staining the brand new white socks which reminded me of the incident until they were finally retired many months later.

Most other birthdays are tangled in my mind, one indistinguishable from the next. A few exceptions: #25, in Provincetown, Massachusetts - too many Harvey Wallbangers turned me off Galliano, pretty much for life; #30, on Durocher Street in Montreal - my godmother, Catherine Lynn, called me from my home town of Temiscaming, an unusual occurrence in those long ago days of expensive long distance phone rates; #40, in the State Office Building in St. Paul - my first summer at the Minnesota Legislature; #60, at home in St. Paul, when one too many gin martinis sent me to bed in the early evening, thereby eliminating yet another libation from faves at the home bar.

I love the month of August in general, and August 10 in particular. The day is almost always hot and sunny, great weather for any outdoor activity. I always think of it as the apogee of summer, after which signs of autumn manifest themselves, as the hours of daylight decline rapidly and the first colored leaves appear on drying trees. A jacket is often required in the evenings from now on and, of course, the State Fair is on the horizon.

I'm a little dismayed to be looking forward to 65 a year from now, when Medicare kicks in and health insurance prices go down. The Silver Sneakers program will give me a gym membership for $25 a year.

Paraphrasing Denny Crane's comment to Shirley Schmidt in one of the later episodes of Boston Legal, I may have more good years behind me than ahead of me, but the future still holds a few more adventures and good times.

Where are you, Lord Fletcher?

A visit to the Arboretum is usually followed by lunch at Lord Fletcher's. Since I'm always so geographically challenged, the GPS would normally be a necessity, but Bob was confident that he knew the route from the arboretum to the restaurant.

We drove through much of the countryside around Lake Minnetonka, enjoying the late summer colors and the feel of the road in the Corvette. Somehow, we turned instead of staying on County Road 19, and were soon way out of our way. North Arm ... Maple Plain ... Highway 12 .. Wayzata. Fortunately, we weren't all that hungry, and we did laugh about our predicament. Lots of traffic on 394 and 94.

We decided to have lunch at the Longfellow Grill, by which time we were tired and hungry. It must have showed, because the server asked us if we wanted water, along with our beers -- an unusual order for us in the middle of the day but very much needed. We shared a turkey sandwich and were much revived for the rest of the day.

Perfect Summer Day at the Arboretum

Black-eyed susans

I'd been looking forward to a visit to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum for several months but something always got in the way ... until today. A perfect Minnesota morning beckoned, and we headed out Highway 5 to the Arboretum, confident that the sun would enhance photos without excessive heat.

I was shocked to set up my Canon Rebel and realize that I had left the image card in my laptop. I usually have my trusty little Panosonic with me, along with an extra card, but this morning I'd decided to be economical and take on the Canon. I felt the anxiety rise in my chest, tears welling in my eyes. I sadly put away my camera and almost failed to appreciate the extraordinary beauty of this late summer morning.

The shadows were cool as we drove along 3-Mile Drive, and I tried to compose myself. I almost missed the colors in the dahlia garden, where the blooms were at their peak rather than way past prime, as they were last year and the year before when we visited the Arboretum. Finally, I resigned myself to simply enjoying the moment.

One of many varieties of lilies

The serenity of the place washed over me. I listened to the birds and the waterfalls ... and the hum of the air conditioning. Workers trimmed plants and pulled weeds. A docent nabbed Bob and lectured him on the Annuals Garden, stunningly bright and beautiful under the noon sun. I felt something akin to peace.

I did take a few iPhone pictures, and realized that my skills need polishing. I was surprised to find myself rationing my shots, something I haven't done for many years. We left the grounds feeling refreshed and renewed.