I didn’t bring a camera on our backpacking venture two weekends ago. The SLR is too big and clunky; the battery on my little ’02 Canon PowerShot SD110 lasts about a therapist’s hour these days. So I only have the images I captured in my mind: ravens wheeling and cavorting in the high winds over the ridge above our sheltered lake; the abundance of huckleberries and blueberries on the shore all around our camp (delicious with oatmeal); Lark springing through the heather hunting bugs, oblivious to the gray jays’ thievery of her untouched kibble; sunrise over the lake turning the landscape these colors:

(When in want of a camera or drawing supplies, recreate the picture in yarn.)

But I did bring home a souvenir to remind me of the trip:

A sleeve! I didn’t quite make good on my threat to knit while hiking, but I did knit at our campsite as long as my fingers would function in the cold. Because it did get cold: we had perfect, glorious sunshine, but Wapiki Lake is at nearly 5300 feet, and fall was on the way. With no forethought whatsoever, we managed to arrive after the night temperatures had suppressed the mosquitoes, but before they started to dip much below freezing. There were ice crystals in the muddy places in the morning, and we snuggled the dog into Mr. G’s bag before dawn when she got shivery.

But numb digits were worth it to be sitting on a log by the still lake, watching the first light fire the trees and water red-russet-amber and finally brilliant greens, knitting quietly with my luscious Wensleydale and waiting for the band of curious jays to blow through camp in search of comestibles.

My Amanda sleeve is almost finished. The cuff is quite snug and for a while I considered ripping back and casting on more stitches. But somehow I couldn’t stop knitting. This yarn is so honest under my fingers, so springy and strong and lustrous and close to the animal that grew it, that it just kept luring me on. I kept thinking, “I need to make a decision: if I’m going to rip back, I really should stop now and do it.” But I love the fabric growing under my needles and I couldn’t ever quite bring myself to deconstruct it. I think I’ll just block it a little wider and figure that stitches tend to relax over time and washing anyway.