Last Saturday I did something that I haven't done on a weekend in quite a long time-- went out and had fun with a group friends. (Wow. The simple fact of writing that and realizing it's true kind of makes me sad.) Anyway, we all gathered at our gracious hostess' house to dye yarn. If you aren't a knitter or other yarn junkie that probably sounds just plain weird, but it was actually a blast. It takes quite a bit of time and the actual dyeing is messy and definitely best done outside. I never got around to researching techniques or planning out what kind of color combinations I wanted to use so I ended up being pretty spontaneous with it. Of the four skeins I dyed, I am pretty happy with three of them. The fourth, a sock blank, came out kind of stupid looking but I'm hoping once it's wound into a skein it will look better.

Uh-Oh

Leaving me home alone with a big bowl of candy is not really very smart. Tonight's dinner was a leftover pork chop and several mini candy bars. With more candy for desert.

Peak

These days are the peak of our season. All the colors-- yellows from butter, blonde, and gold, to the flames of the sun; oranges from bronze to pumpkin to copper (old and new); reds are pinky strawberry to crimson, tomato, burgundy and blood. And all their crinkly faded remains scattered on the ground. When you're in the right place on a sunny afternoon the whole world appears on fire. It's a psychedelic send off before winter with its bare tree skeletons, gray winds and icy stars swoops down upon us and reminds us what really makes New Englanders.
Our fall is the antithesis of the cherry blossoms. No delicate pale to cherry pink blossoms flutter away to reveal the season of lush new green and warm breezes. We flash out in a riot of vibrancy before the dearth of color lets ours really show through.