Memorial Day

I write this post on Memorial Day. Yesterday my husband and I visited cemeteries where our parents and grandparents are buried. We drove Nebraska Highway 15 from Lincoln to the Butler County cemetery, then stopped at Schuyler, and Norfolk. The wind blew across the fields as Lance drove and I knit on a second sock of a pair. He showed me the hill where his mother took him to look for Native American arrowheads (they never found any) but she liked to get away from the house in the tiny town and walk out in the country. I told him about my family's infamous sledding trips in Ta Ha Zouka Park and high school days cruising the main street of Norfolk before pulling into the Double K Drive-In for french fries and cokes. We know these stories well but the day seemed like one for remembering. So we turned off the radio and audiobooks and exchanged stories.

Memorial Day originated with remembering soldiers of the Civil War in the North and the South. Today an article in our newspaper lamented many folks don't practice the true meaning of the holiday, that is to honor men and women who have lost their lives in military service. While I honor those who lost their lives serving our country, I also remember and honor others. Honoring one group does not dishonor the other. I also applaud families and friends who spend time together sharing stories and meals. Honor and remembrance come in many forms.

The word "memory" has several origins. One of the earliest comes from the Latin word, "memor" meaning mindful. Today I am holding stories and dear ones in my mind while I knit the second toe of the second sock. Last week I finished the baby sweater with yarn to spare so I'm knitting a matching hat. The little sweater has a one button closure in the neck ribbing that is currently held in place by a stitch marker. Although I'm tempted to pick out a little duck button, I think a babe would be more comfortable with a smooth round button (sewed on securely) against the neck. I think the sweater is a 6 - 9 month size. By then most babies should be holding their heads up but those big heads do get heavy and come to rest on chests. I have buttons to sew on my cardigan and some two color mitts in the works.

However you celebrate, I hope you have a lovely Memorial Day.

 

Same Yarn Second Verse

Steady rain has fallen the past three days. The garden is soggy and the iris stand valiantly against the rains. I took photos before the first storm on Wednesday. Long ago, iris were planted on the graves of women to guide them on their journey home. My Gram grew hybrid iris in her yard and so they remind me of her. Practically, iris foliage is green from spring to fall and the tight bunches of rhizomes just under the ground keep the weeds down.

In knitting notes, I ripped out a sock and cast on another pattern. The cable stitches in the first sock made my hands hurt. The Pebbles pattern is easy to knit while chatting with friends or sitting in a waiting room. I knit an Eye of Partridge heel flap with a traditional heel turn and gusset. I am also knitting a baby sweater by the same designer. It is a simple top-down raglan that I may have turned into a yoke sweater because of a different gauge. The sleeves might be more turquoise than yellow as I am playing yarn chicken with yellow yarn scraps. Knitting is nothing but an adventure. My sister contributed the bright turquoise yarn from her stash to make enough yardage. This little joint project will be a charity donation.
 

 

I took advantage of these rainy days to make a summer reading list, my version of the public library summer reading program. When I was teaching, the list helped me get through the busy end of the semester to the more relaxed summer school schedule. Sometimes books not listed will appear on my stack of "to-read" books and I rarely read everything on the list. This year's list includes:the latest Maisie Dobbs mystery, In This Grave Hour by Jacqueline Winspear, Commonwealth by Anne Patchett and A Piece of the World by Christina B. Kline. Others listed are Dickinson, a commentary on Emily Dickinson's poems, and a book of essays, The Wave in the Mind by Ursula K. Le Guin. These days I try to borrow most books from the local library or interlibrary loan. Then I loosely follow the reading rule given to me by a friend: "When you begin a book, read the number of pages of your age to decide whether to continue or not. After fifty, you get to subtract any number of pages you like."  

I hope you have some lovely summer plans. Memorial weekend is coming up and summer is around the corner.