Counting Sheep

The discordant thump and rattle of a loose board in the deck railing outside the bedroom window woke me from a fitful sleep.

Wind moaning through bare tree branches in the dark beyond my window told the unseen story. I seldom sleep well on a windy night.

Unable to drift back into slumber, I disentangled myself from the limpet snoring softly against my side (Ronni) and slipped out of bed. With a soft groan, Ronni curled into a tight ball and slept on.

A glance at the clock glowing dimly on my bedside table verified the early hour – it was 1:30 am.

My “go to” remedy for a sleepless night is hot cocoa, so I crept quietly down the stairs.

Pausing on the stair landing to rest my aching knee (yes, it’s back to acting up … so much for cortisone injections), my eyes fell on the still half-full bag of raw Cormo fleece I’ve been slowly working my way through.

Hmmm … better than counting sheep!

An hour later, cocoa forgotten, I crawled back into bed, having sorted fleece into two more plastic tubs of individual wool locks, ready to be washed and then drum-carded.

I guess I know what I’ll be doing tomorrow. 🐑🐑

Pacing the floors

Those of you who know me are aware; this pre-winter season is not my favorite time of year. Everything is so brown and dead looking. There is a very Halloween-scary-movie-forest thing going on outside. I can almost imagine a “dead” scarecrow hanging from one of the branches.

Sure, there are occasional surprises, when our unrelieved, sodden brown surroundings transform overnight to a temporary winter wonderland. But it doesn’t mean it (yet …). By the following day, everything is back to dull brown.

It’s a season of adjusting; boxing up t-shirts and short sleeved tops, pulling out turtlenecks and woolen leggings (and I am so glad I managed to drop that “covid 10” pounds this past summer, or those warm leggings would NOT have fit under my jeans!).

With limited closet space, it also means boxing up flip-flops, sandals and most of my light-weight tennis shoes to make room for warmer, bulkier shoes and boots.

On the bright side; REI came through again, and I now own an arch-supportive, lightly insulated, water/snow proof, well-cushioned pair of ankle-high walking shoes to take over from my comfortable but way too water-penetrable Hoka One One’s.

The Hoka walking shoes won’t be boxed up though. They will still be much needed for twice-weekly walking on the indoor track at the Menard Sports Center. I intend to greet next spring in much better physical shape than I did the last. At least, if my problematic knee holds out. 🤞

So, with our quirky weather currently hovering around the freezing mark, sunshine on some days, then winds blowing or rain falling on others – my daily routine has inevitably begun to change as well.

I find myself instinctively gathering my winter comfort hobbies about me this year, as I haven’t seriously done for a long time. It feels right.

Last night, as I was carefully laying a tub-full of freshly washed, raw sheep’s wool on drying racks beside the wood stove, breathing in the remembered smell of wet wool, I realized what had changed.

Jolene & Nelson, October 2014, in their summer sheep-sheets. I still miss these two.

Anyway, this is the first winter since 2008 that I haven’t had overriding priorities pushing my fiber arts to the side. I never gave them up, but they moved well down on my list for a long time.

First, Jerry’s 2009 TBI and long recovery, then my going back to work and becoming involved in dog sports (along with caring for Jer), and then being totally (and happily) consumed by being a K9 Nose Work instructor.

Even last winter, although I was doing some spinning and knitting while mostly sticking close to home, I was kept busy actively planning, structuring, editing and reviewing an online nose work course with 8 students.

I enjoyed and appreciated that class – it kept me mentally engaged during a winter that otherwise really sucked.

THIS winter, however, I have no job and really, no commitments.

Other than taking the pups to nose work and barn hunt practice, and sticking to my own exercise routine, I’m pretty much free to explore old passions, with time to give them my full attention. I think I might be [gasp] actually looking forward to it …

Thus, I now find myself pacing the floor, not in frustration, but meditatively, drop spindle in hand.

My “shooting stars” drop spindle, made by talented woodworker, Tracy Eichheim, in 2013, is one of my favorites. I bought her at the Oregon Fleece & Fiber Festival many years ago.

Yes, this winter, when it finally arrives, is going to be different. Heck, I might even pull my drum carder back out. I’m feeling my creative juices flowing.

With various and assorted fleece and fiber to choose from (my stash really could use some judicious pruning), a drum carder, two spinning wheels and multiple spindles … there’s no telling what could happen.

A small, radiant floor heater keeps my little upstairs fiber studio toasty for us two girls. 😉

Stay tuned; I believe this may be a winter for tale spinning … of one sort or another.

Fast Forward Changes

Autumn seemed to come and go in a heartbeat this year.

My upper deck bird feeders detailed the metamorphic changes, in photos taken altogether too close together for my comfort.

October 1st: With fall colors abounding across the valley, it was time to fill my bird feeders for the season.
October 8th: after several days of hard frosts overnight, some fall color remains, but many trees are already bare. I’ve added suet bars to the feeders. This Hairy Woodpecker eyes the first snowflakes (you can just see them against the green of the spruce tree) with wary apprehension.
October 10th: Mere days later, after a wet snow followed by frigid rain and increasingly cold nighttime temps, no fall foliage remains. “Hairy” appreciates the suet bar.
October 14th: And …. It’s winter. ❄️

A Good Day For a Walk?

As soon as her eyes opened … well, partly opened, the thought settled in. It’s morning!

Today would be a very good day to go for a walk. A brisk morning walk can be so invigorating. And fun!

Unless it’s raining – walking in the rain is NOT fun. I’m just sayin’.

Then again, she thought, it’s pretty early. Maybe we should go for a walk a little later. Yawn …

Still buried in warm blankets, she stretched and rolled over so she could glimpse the big, north-facing window across the bedroom. The curtain was open and dawn was already well underway.

The first thing she noticed was that it wasn’t raining. Oh joy! That’s a good start to the day. Then again, it didn’t look particularly warm outside.

Nearby tree branches quivered in a light breeze, the few remaining yellow-brown leaves clinging defiantly to the limbs. Most of their fellows were laying wet and sodden on the forest floor.

The sky beyond wanted to brighten with the dawn, but was fighting a losing battle to the looming clouds spilling over the mountains. It wasn’t raining, but …

Hmm … there is much to be said for staying in bed. Maybe the walk can wait.