Reflections on a Vocational Happenstance
"Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come." - Thomas Carlyle
Today is my second-to-last day before heading up to our country house.
This process of moving from one home to another, once very difficult, has become a routine I embrace and even look forward to, at least a little bit.
Twice a year I weed our possessions, deciding which to get rid of and which to keep. And then of those to keep, which should move from one home to the other and which be left behind awaiting our return.
I don't know if you are aware that all serious knitters have something called a "stash". This term applies to all the yarn we own that hasn't yet been used. Yarn is a fairly benign addiction, it's true, but "stash" is a good word for all these odds and ends. Knitters can be hoarders, and we can find the acquisition of beautiful new yarns hard to resist, even though we have plenty to work with waiting at home.
Moving back and forth has helped keep my stash under control. I have to maintain a balance between what I buy and what I knit because the difference between the two cannot grow larger than what fits into one plastic tub. With this regulator in place, I am able to practice a discipline that is contrary to my natural inclination.
When I return to my upstate garden on Friday, there will be few flowers visible. Perhaps a daffodil or tulip here and there will be in bloom, but the distance north plus the increase in altitude means that I will enjoy another spring.
May in Hobart is April in Brooklyn, and is my favorite upstate month, by far. May is the month of preparation, of setting the stage, of imagining the rewards my efforts might reap. I love to look at a bed with its plants still dormant and envision how it might look in June, in July, in August, and in September.
Yesterday I visited my favorite local yarn store, having first evaluated my stash. Spring and summer knitting is different from winter knitting, as almost no one wants to buy wool in June. I have several little bits of cotton in sweet colors, on their own not enough to make much, leftovers from last summer. So I bought a few skeins of solid colors that that will combine well with what's already on hand.
This morning as I pack my tub of stash, staging it to be loaded into the car on Friday, I am smiling. Smiling just the way I will next week when I stand appraising my still-dormant flower beds.
What rewards, I wonder, will my efforts reap?