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For Crimson…

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

She’s right. It IS a lovely poem, isn’t it?

Anyway. I caused a bit of a mess in the Magic Yarn Ball Swap (round 2) earlier today by asking on the thread (yes, I am an idiot) if anyone had requested handspun or wanted handspun yarn. It seemed like a good question. Ooops?

Ohwell. I meant well.

I finished my Dulaan mittens today and just finished the brim of a matching hat:


I may never, ever, want to cable anything again (okay, that’s a hyperbole, I admit it). I spent close to three hours making this progress (thank g-d for The X-Files) and forcing myself not to run screaming or burn the lot. But, I persevered.

Mostly because, aside from the waste of yarn, wool smells nasty when burnt.

Ahwell. I need to update the sidebar, I’ve had more ideas. tehe. I’ve sent out a request to local breeders to “borrow” a sheep for this XTREME Knitting contest. I wonder if anyone will ever let me visit their farms again?

Probably not…

Well, worst comes to worst I can always resort to bribery and petty theft. I’ve always wanted to try and actually attempt a midnight shearing. Now, there’s an XTREME sport for you.

And double points if you shear a ram.

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