Mad Scientist, much?

Okay. So this morning, I really wanted to dye some yarn, but the rules of the house are simple. No dyeing inside. Granted, a lot of this would have gone smoothly since I dye yarn all the time inside, but as I sell more, my mother seems to have caught on that I'm dyeing inside.

So, for a while, I've been set on dyeing some yarn. I usually do it in the AM, depending on the process used. So, this morning, I woke up to the beautiful sunny day shown around here.

The only issue is is that while its wonderful looking...its 27 degrees. I'm soo cold right now. The fact that I'm dyeing makes wearing pants silly, though all my fingers are red. and it looks like I'm bleeding too.

Anyway, I decided screw it, lets go outside and dye. However, there is no dye area out there!

So I made one.

Taking out my big blue bowl of dyeing and my white basket filled with mason jars (Little house on the Prairie? ), I braved the cold in my gym shorts, barefeet and hoodie.

Let the comedy begin.

First off, its windy as hell and the tarps are too big. So, like any sane person (snorts with laughter) I decided to go ahead and lay out the finest materials. I'm not afraid of admitting that I'm a poor broke college kid, and in that, I'm using whatever I have around my house to dye yarn. The dream one day is to have a studio of my own, but for now?

The yard.

Plastic bags.

Anyway, that stuff aside, I did all the prep inside. I mixed the dyes, and prepped the yarn in a salt bath because of the dye. I've still got some more work to do, but I'm on break.

It's windy, it's cold, and I ran out of mason jars and cute baskets. So... I upped my game to include the big blue bowl, and two coffee cups! These worked great for holding dye and for dispensing it. I've found a great use for all of the travel mugs I get but never use. Take that!

From there on, I mainly focused on the fact that it was cold. Really cold. In fact, I wasn't sure what to do. I

had real food cooking inside, a microwave going in the shed outside, and of course, it can only get better with more comic relief characters, intrigued by the four wheeler we have out back. Not only is it not for sale, they asked right when the microwave dinged.

In the shed.

The look on their faces was worth it, but hey, they were the one asking about a four wheeler from a girl, in the middle of her yard, covered in dye that resembled blood. Really think about who the crazy one is.

From then on, the temp raised a whole two degrees, though my time was spent going back and

forth from outside to in, until I discovered something amazing.

My yarn is frozen.

Not a little frozen, this thing is solid.

All in all, its a productive day of freezing my butt off and making more yarn, but I enjoyed it.

I'll post all the finished photos later, after they defrost in the shower.

Nocturne

Here's a poem I've been hiding for a while. It's been submitted to a literary review, and I hope it gets in!

Nocturne

I once dreamt I was flying,

Far above the everyday,

But like Icarus I had fallen

After I had lost my way.

I woke up in a country

I had never seen before,

And then I started walking,

And I wound up at your door.

You looked so surprised,

For I did not say a word,

Yet as you looked at me,

An entire story could be heard.

My wings were rather battered,

My clothes had all been torn,

My hair had become tangled,

And my face was looking worn.

You carried me into your house,

Despite my heavy, feathered wings,

And as you lay me down to rest,

I got to hear you sing.

Your Song! Your Song! Your Song!

Oh how it woke my heart,

I hated to hear it ending,

I feared this from the start.

Your eyes, your voice, your face, your hands,

All healed my weary bones,

And yet I never wished to heal-

I did not want to be alone.

The day that I could fly again,

I never journeyed far,

I orbited around your house,

You were my only star.

I stared at you from up on high,

Your warm gaze pierced my heart,

And then I felt a lightness,

As my wings started to fall apart.

I ran to you across the field,

Returned back to your door,

And with a smile and a laugh,

You asked me to leave no more.

Knitpocolypse, Part 1

Day One, Evening

The fire crackled in the background, as the group sat around the large pit, talking and laughing and joking. Gavin smiled, and walked around the group, recording each one on his brand new camera. He eventually made it to his destination, sitting a bit away from the others. She was wrapped in a blanket she had made, and she was laughing at the others antics. He approached her, still smiling. She looked up, smiling through another bite of her s’mores.

“Hey Sophia, I have to ask you something,” he said.

His stomach was resting in a tight, nervous knot, because out of all the staff, Sophia was the prettiest, as well as the most interesting. Well, at least she was to him.

“What’s up, Gavin?” she asked, looking through the lens.

Her eyes flickered over the edge to his eyes, a deep, startling blue. He grinned, lifting the camera higher to him, forcing her to look in the lens.

“Are you ready for the first yarn retreat to begin?” he asked.

She laughed, patting the seat next to her, and looking into the fire. At first, they had all thought this small action weird, but had come to realize that when Sophia was nervous, or was thinking, she had a tendency to look elsewhere. She sighed.

“Did I tell you what I got today? That all the knitters, crocheters, everyone is getting welcome bags?” she asked. “They let us all have one, you remember.”

“No, you didn‘t say. What you’d get, anyway?”

“Quivot. It’s a really expensive fiber. Like, ridiculously expensive. I got Four Ounces of it. I haven’t even touched it before today. Do you know how much four ounces of quivot is worth?” she asked. “It’s worth about twenty-five dollars an ounce. I got 100 dollars in Quivot. It’s unreal!”

“They’re going all out. I don’t even know how to knit, and they gave me a bag. It’s full of specialty hand painted and hand spun yarns.”

“Wow. How many?”

“Eight skeins, a set of glass needles, and a free class.”

‘What?”

“Yup, I signed up for the first week of your cable class, by the way.”

“You.. You don’t even know how to knit!” Sophia said, laughing.

“Teach me?” he asked.

“Sure. I will. You just let me take some of that yarn off your hands,” she said laughing.

“Deal,” he said, laughing.

Like that would have mattered. He had already carefully wrapped the yarn and needles up, and put them in a box. They were for her. He had no use of them- they were far too fancy for his tastes, and he was a graphic designer. She was a knitter, who was in love with color and life. She was a true bohemian.

“So, how do you feel, then?” He asked, quieter this time.

“Nervous,” she admitted. “I’m nervous. This is Northern Yarn Retreats. The gift bags are expensive, the beds are all made and nice, the lodge is clean, and the fire pits are ready. We’re an expensive resort with a five star chef… and I am just Sophia Lorraine. How am I too compete with this? What if I’m not good enough?” She asked.

She turned her eyes on him, those dark green emeralds that sparked with life. He smiled at her, and set down the camera.

“You, Sophia, are good enough. You are always good enough.”