The Rant. It is hunting season in Vermont. Not my favorite season. Hunting season, to someone like me, is endless. We have Youth Weekend, Ladies Day, Bow Season, Black Powder Season, Doe Day, Bear Hunting, Moose Lotteries, Regular Deer Season aka Gun Season, Coyote season and twice yearly Turkey season. I am sure there are more, but quite honestly I don't keep up with it all. However I do stay out of the woods and that makes me inordinately crabby. I like the woods, I actually own, me personally, over 100 acres of woods which are criss-crossed with wonderful trails just waiting for me and my lovely corgis to visit. We hike and cross country ski and snowshoe on theses trails. My son mountain bikes these trails. But for most of November the woods are strictly verboten, to say nothing that I would be a freaking idiot to head into the woods in Vermont during any sort of remotely ordained hunting season. Now, to add insult to injury, my land is posted. That means every 50 yards , all around my land ( 2 3/4 miles of perimeter) there are florescent yellow signs, signed and dated by me, that say no hunting, fishing, shooting or trespassing. I then register this land (and pay money to do so) with both the town and the Vermont Department of Fish and Wildlife. And yet my neighbor stopped by the other day to tell me that as soon as I left for yoga the other morning three guys in full hunting regalia headed off into my woods carrying, you guessed it, guns. Maybe they were lost, my neighbor said. I will not share what I said.
The confession. I have never shot a gun. I have no desire to do so. I actually believe that a great deal of what is wrong with the world involves guns, and could be solved if all guns vanished right this second. But, if I was given a gun, just for one shot, I would be more apt to shoot a hunter than a deer.
The fiber. I have been knitting. Stealth projects that I cannot talk about, except to say that they are actually going to be finished before the holiday season. I have been spinning, and even have a whole pile of yarn washed and dried and selected for projects. I actually found the unfinished sweater for my son. One of the reasons that I was unable to finish knitting the darn thing is because I could not find it. It was in a canvas bag in the abyss. That is what my family calls my sewing room. I am a happy knitting fool, and my wrists are happy because I am no longer knitting cotton socks on size 0 addi turbos. Nope, no more, get used to sport weight socks,dear.
Okay. One final confession. Remember that gorgeous wildflower honey BFL that I spun a few weeks ago? I said I would make a scarf to wear with my grown-up-lady-camel-hair coat. Well, I never wear that coat. Oh, I wore it once last year when I went to a wedding. But usually is sits in the closet, unworn and lonely. It is just too dressy for my rural lifestyle. So I actually bought new a winter coat to go with the yummy golden fiber that I spun. The coat is chocolate brown. It is a coat my mother would have approved of. I can't describe it except it is hi-tech meets the car coat of the 50's. I'll take a picture. But what does that say about my personality; that I would buy a whole new winter coat to go with 4 oz. fiber that I spun to go with a totally different coat that I never wear? And, I haven't even knit the scarf yet. I haven't even chosen the pattern, but I guess it better be a good one.