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.

Sometimes when my husband goes out of town, I indulge in some quiet, solitary relaxation. Not this time. While Mr. G jetted off to Madison for the Ironman (no, he wasn’t competing in this one, just making some business contacts and helping out), my five solo days went by in a blur.

For starters, I joined a choir. (Actually, we both did, but Mr. G hasn’t been yet.) The funny thing is, it’s a church choir, which is surprising those who know us, because we’re not very churchy. But Mr. G used to sing in college and wanted to get back into it, and his cousin has been trying to get him to audition to join him in this choir. And when he was accepted and decided to commit to it, I thought, why not me, too? We don’t have any other hobbies we do together, and although I have no voice training or experience beyond seventh-grade electives, I grew up in a musical family and my mother has sung in a choral group all my life. So I auditioned, and somehow they let me in as a second soprano. Thursday was the first rehearsal, and it’s hard work! They move fast; there’s a lot of sight-reading; and some of the music is pretty challenging. But I like a challenge. I went home and practiced (the dog barked at me) for the first Sunday service.

Friday night I took it easy and got some knitting done; Saturday was a farm work day for our CSA (we tore out old tomato plants, prepared a new greenhouse, and moved the chicken corral to a new section of the field. I also decided it was time for my puppy dog’s first shampoo. She was getting a little whiffy, not to mention itchy. Miss Lark does not like getting wet, but she took it pretty stoically. The Little Girl has the physique of Wendy Whelan (Lark is somewhat less accomplished in toe shoes, but then I’d like to see Wendy leap twice her height at a dead run to snag an over-the-shoulder frisbee pass in her teeth), so after a few minutes of comical prancing to express her joy that the ordeal was over, the poor uninsulated beastie was reduced to uncontrollable shivering:

Sunday morning it was off to sing at church, then quickly home for lunch and a trip out to exercise the dog and pick blackberries, then off to a fantastic end-of-chemo party for a young student at our school who’s been fighting leukemia, followed by dinner with my in-laws and a swing by my cousins’ to drop off a birthday present for Sam, who has somehow managed to grow to be eight years old when I wasn’t looking.

Today I paid the price for all that frolicking and woke up with a fever and a sore throat. But I did have this to show for my crafting efforts:

That’s the top row of a new quilt project, Little Boxes by Pauline Smith. I fell for this quilt as soon as I saw it:

This is just what I think a baby’s quilt ought to look like: brightly geometric, not pictorial but reminiscent of a brightly painted coastal village, with strong bold colors. I don’t know which baby it’s for yet, but I had to make it. The quilt said, “Behold my many triangles, ye mighty, and despair,” but I said, “Nah. I can figure that out.” I consulted with Mr. G’s mom, who showed me how to stagger the triangles so that the points will be properly secured in the seam allowance without getting nipped off.

I think it’s cute how they make little fox ears where they meet. And now that I know I don’t need to be frightened of them, this quilt top should come together fast.

But first I’ve got to get back to the knitting. There are birthdays afoot!

You’ll notice this is not exactly a pair of socks, but it is two socks, and they’re both finished and photographed now that the Closing Ceremonies are beaming into my living room.

Up front is a Philosopher’s House Sock, my first foray into Cat Bordhi’s New Pathways for Sock Knitters. I made some adjustments for a finer gauge, knitting on US #3’s, and lengthened the leg to accommodate my mother’s wish for a taller sock. I also ripped the heel out twice and ended up bodging together a peculiar narrow hybrid heel that I’m not at all certain I can duplicate for Sock Two. I don’t know if it was because I was glued to the thrilling swim relays or what, but I kept thinking I was following Cat’s instructions (anyone else feel like they need to pull a Magic Decoder Ring out of a cereal box to make sense of this book?) and winding up with wonkiness. And not the same wonkiness, either – Heel 1 was sloppy and wide; Heel 2 was queerly pointed. So for Heel 3 I put the instructions aside and tried to apply my own bag of Sock Heel tricks. I got something that works, and Mum and I have narrow heels anyway.

You probably want to know what the yarn is. Me, too. I’ve mislaid the ball band. It’s a sock-weight merino I picked up from a hand-dyer at Madrona last winter, and it’s dyed with indigo, which turned my fingers and needles blue, but I love it. Mum picked it out of the stash herself, so I already know she loves it, too.

ETA: A clever reader helped solve the mystery: this is Butternut Woolens Super Sock Yarn. Alas, the little Oregon family farm that was Butternut Woolens has had to be sold this summer, and the yarn is no more. My heart aches for Shelly, who’s had to give up her dream and her lifestyle, and I’m wishing I’d bought more from her. I know rationally that I couldn’t have made the difference in the success of her little business, but go forth and support your local farmers if you possibly can, y’hear?

Lurking in the background there is a sock I can’t tell you about quite yet. It’s a surprise to me, too. The design emerged from my head all by itself, and the construction came together beautifully – thank goodness, since the week I had to get it done didn’t leave much room for error. I hope the Sock Clubbers like it – these knitters are taking it on faith that they’ll get pretty yarn and an attractive pattern. I can happily report the yarn is lovely, and I do think I’ve done my best to showcase it in my design. Now it’s off to the tech editor and the photographer so it can land in people’s mailboxes right quick. I’m off to cast a final eye over the charts before I send them in.

It’s been quite an Olympics; they’ve been perfectly timed for me, with the intensive knitting I had to accomplish. But the incredible athletics I’ve watched have also made me want to get off the couch. I want to take advantage of what’s left of the summer weather. So if there’s just a little less knitting to show off here, you’ll understand that I’m out trying to attend to the parts of my body that aren’t my fingers. (Or that my workload has swallowed me whole. It’s a possibility. I really think I’m working on the most enjoyable math textbook ever written, but creating the diagrams, number lines, and equations is a whale of a project.)