November makings

My knitting has gotten complicated again. I’ve just started a lace cowl I’m calling Wisp, an airy thing made of blue-gray lace yarn left over from a couple of shawls. It’s too my own pattern; the first lace stitch I tried was too airy and I was afraid it would just crumple and look like a tangled mass of threads, so last night I frogged it back, re-cast on, and will try it with the Fountain Lace I found on a very handy website stitch dictionary (I think this one is in Barbara Walker’s stitch treasuries too). But it wasn’t satisfying my soul. It’s November now, chilly and foggy and an airy blue-grey cowl is not what I feel like knitting. So I started a soft, drapy Möbius loop scarf instead, in a warm fuzzy red alpaca/silk blend that makes me think of candles and warmth coming out of the darkness, my favorite images every year as the year draws in to a close.

When I posted it in Ravelry, I named it “Turning Toward the Morning”, after my favorite Gordon Bok song. Only now I’m afraid I’ve jinxed it; I very much want to keep this scarf for me, but with a name like that I might just have to give it away if someone else needs warming more than I do. We’ll see.

Also, to complicate things further, I may need to start yet *another* cowl, in the Pretty Thing pattern I’ve made twice already; we had a drawing yesterday for our Sinterklaas gift exchange from my knitting group and I’m considering making one as part of my gift.

To further the theme of making things, I’ve concluded that it’s entirely possible that the reason I haven’t written much poetry lately is just because I haven’t been getting out on the water enough, and have been too busy to let my mind lay fallow the rest of the time. Here’s the result of last Sunday’s row (and some revision):

Penultimate Fall

Autumn has laid
a carpet of leaves over this canal.
I row through it
carving a dark water-path
that echoes the black curve overhead
scribed by south-bound ducks.

Ave, aves; go well.
The canal, the boat, and I
will be here when you return.
But next fall,
soon after you leave again,
I will go too, on my own migration.

When you come back
in all the springs afterward,
please watch over this canal,
and think blessings on this boat
and all rowers who follow my path
over this water.

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