Friday, July 28, 2006

Growth

I have been avoiding the back part of my yard. Oh, I go outside and play with Bonnie and Clyde, or to BBQ or such, but I avoid the back part of it. The reason being that the back part of my yard used to contain a pear tree that was reduced to this during the fence construction.

This still bothers me. I cried for a week when my dad cut down a silver maple because it threatened his precious swimming pool. Now, I know pools are expensive, but damn, could you look into how extensive the root system is before you plant it? Cuz, it would have been easier. I know I've said it before, but I have a thing for trees.

I like the sound of the ocean but I hate the beach. I like the look of mountains but I don't want to climb them. Deserts have a sparse beauty to them but I don't really wanna visit them. Wide, open plains have a grace about them with their tall blowing grasses and their breath taking open skies but I feel too exposed. Trees I have love for.

Give me a forest with tall, majestic trees reaching to the sky. Give me the sound of the wind blowing through them as their leaves rustle with the movements of the earth. Give me the steady drip of trees after a rain storm. Trees provide food, shelter, shade and oxygen. They are a place to rest, a place to play and a place to live. In the Spring they fill the air with new growth and the flowers of the fruiting trees. In the heat of Summer, they give us shade from the sun and rustle to let us a know a cooling breeze is headed for us. In the Fall, they give us beauty in the final blazes of color transformations before the leaves fall. In the Winter, they provide a stark, skeletal beauty against the gray Winter skies.

Imagine my delight when I stepped out in my backyard and actually walked back to the back fence to see this.
That, my dear friends, is a baby pear tree. It's coming up from the root system and I cannot tell you the amount of whooping and hollering that went on in my backyard. So to the fence builders who cut it down I say, "Take that, you troglodyte chattel!! Viva la Poire!" And in less fancy English/French combo, "Ha! Kiss my ass, tree killers!!" To the pear tree, I say, "Grow, baby, grow. You got a few months to get big enough to survive the Winter. I'll do what I can for ya."

In knitting news (yes, it says knitting. I do know how, ya know.), this baby continues to grow.

This is made of the Touch Me yarn I got on my Dallas trip. I...I don't know what it's going to be. I really don't. I'm not sure I care either. I'm not worried about the end result. I am just enjoying working with this yarn. It will either be a wide scarf, a short stole or a big square to roll nekkid on. Like I said, this is all about the working with this yarn. I can also work it without my hands hurting and that's been wonderful. This project is also about re-teaching myself to knit. Seems I hold the yarn continental and wrap the yarn wrong so all my stitches are twisted. I re-learning how to yarn over so I don't get twisty stitches. It's a slow process, let me tell ya.

Tomorrow I am driving to Dallas Austin (Sorry, I miss my Dallas Grrls.)to meet Stephanie, the Yarn Harlot. Guys, I get to stalk her in person. I should like, wear a mask and stuff except that would be beyond creepy for her and this is Texas. The headlines would read "Stalker Suffocates In Superwash!" or something equally stupid. Too hot. Plus, I am so looking forward to meeting my dear polar opposite. Hee!!

See you guys Monday when I come down off my Harlot high.

4 comments:

Nanc said...

Hold on just one minute, missy. What's this?! Did you mean to say "Austin", 'cause there ain't no Harlot here. And if there is one, I sorely need to know about it.

Yay! for your pear tree babies. And yay! for your Touch Me knitting. And your tree prose is beautiful. Thank you.

Sachi said...

Touch Me yarn... *snort*

kristin said...

Yay Baby Pear Tree!! isn't it awesome how nature fights back?

See you in Austin!

Sneaksleep said...

I am SO with you on the tree thing. I think it's genetic. My dad can hear trees scream when they're being cut down.