This is absolutely my favorite time of year to knit. The cooler fall air makes it possible to consider worsted weight wool, my favorite fabric to knit. Unlike the dead of winter, the weather isn’t so cold that my hands ache or feel frozen.
Outdoors, the magnificent fall colors fill me with joy. I love the sight of a brilliant, golden-yellow tree next to a crimson-leaved one in the late afternoon sunlight. The juxtaposition of colors and shapes seem to open up unlimited design possibility and deepen my creative urges.
From a functional point of view, robust sweaters, mittens, hats, and scarves will soon become necessities as everyone knows that fall weather in a cold, northern climate is a gentle precursor to the more violent winter storms.
Most of the day looked sort of like this:
Nonetheless, M and I went to the park for a walk.
This is my old neighborhood. You can see the backyard of the house I grew up in across the street from this park. Up until two years ago, this park was so heavily forested it was impossible to see the footbridge from the hill leading down to the river. Unfortunately, most of this now open space is the result of another tree blight (we had already lost so much through Dutch Elm disease and Emerald Ash borers, now the pine trees are getting hit with something). In almost every neighborhood the Ash trees were cut to the ground. The dismal sound of chainsaws and trees falling filled the summer air.
Arborists working for an upscale mall in one community took great lengths to save their trees. With treatment and a vigilant eye, they were able to save all their Ash trees. Too bad other communities didn't think the trees were worth the expense to save. I'm sure this is a nationwide problem as there aren't a lot of choices at the lumber yard anymore, and the wood is often very poor quality.
This is the view from the park's parking lot across to the old neighborhood:
I brought along M's still unfinished sock to take some pictures of it outdoors in an attempt to shame myself into finishing it. (I know if I am going to take pictures, I'll likely post them, and I promised over a week ago to finish the sock by now.)
Even though the light was, for the most part, pretty gloomy, there were still interesting things to see:
The colors are beginning to change:
Once or twice the sun peeked out:
(Of course you need to click on the images to get a closer look.) Here's the other direction with a bunch of ducks neatly lined up against the shore:
These guys got quite excited by a couple of kids tossing bread crumbs out to them:
I was even able to persuade my very handsome and über-cool husband to hold up the beginning of the Fir Cone scarf.
M is usually a bit shy and this is what I generally end up with:
He even held up his nearly finished sock:
Although I was quite happy to be outdoors instead of stuck in a dreary, campus building, I was a bit disheartened by the environmental changes around here. It's very strange to see the shoreline so exposed. The water in this normally swollen and somewhat swift moving river is a good three feet below average. We did not get a lot of rain this spring; there were, however, several times when we had so much that the river swelled over its banks and in some places so high that it was only a foot below the lower branches of some of the erect trees. Basements and streets flooded. It's astounding that there isn't enough water here for a canoe. And although the water is so clear one can see the bottom without a problem, not a fish or a tadpole in sight. Hmmmm. And a forest bereft of trees. What could be sadder?
