knitting on the porch

I have company on my porch these days. Knitting is happening,

front porch frizziness

as well as unknitting,

katydid 2

and we who are used to seeing each other through a computer monitor darkly have been dancing cheek to cheek.


Rachel’s visit has been full of signs and wonders. A larval marking on the trunk of a dead tree in the Adirondacks appeared to reproduce the Chinese character for sap, 汁.


We’ve marveled not only at falling leaves, which Rachel says are the first thing she’s found that are as relaxing to watch as ocean surf, but also at leaves that are melting away in the frequent rains.

wounded birch

The leaves, she observes, change colors with the same sort of predictability as an aging wound — a sobering thought.


Which is not to say that we’ve been entirely sober. It’s good to cut loose once in a while, to embrace change and mutability,


to become undone.

13 Replies to “Unknitting”

  1. So are you two, like, an item, or what? Sorry if that seems like a rude question, but for us non-circumspect non-Anglos (who are conditioned to just spit it out), decoding is difficult, if not painful!

  2. Oh, that is most excellent! You’re definitely my idea of a power duo. And ahhh, the pain has suddenly dissolved. Thank you. :-)

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