This has been a beautiful May. Just blue skies and warm temps. I normally sit down and by May I know what kind of projects I want to do for the summer. I haven't even planted my tomatoes. I hope to do this for this long weekend. I can't believe we are already to Memorial Day.
I have been working on my rug. Its funny that I feel like I have worked on it every day for hours and it seems that its not going as fast as I thought it would. Robin asked how big it is. Its 30 by 38. Is that big or have I just turned into the slowest hooker in the world?
As I am hooking, one of the things I thought to myself, was how on earth would you hook sweat on a working mule? How would you hook, turned earth? How do I hook so it looks like spring planting?
I have been reading old books, one of them is called, The Land Breakers, by John Ehle. Then I am also reading The Trees by Conrad Richter. But, they don't use the mules or horse to pull the plow. They do it themselves. Maybe when I get further into them they will go into it more. I am so fascinated by The Land Breakers, we have lost so many skills. I was so intrigued by the gathering of herbs in the wild, by the spinning and the looms and the dyeing of the wool. I keep reading so I can find what it looked like, felt liked and smelled like by a man working hours breaking the land, in order to take care of his family.
Our son and his wife were leaving, and he just stopped and took this picture of Yosemite. I just thought it was breath taking beautiful. I thought you might enjoy seeing it.
My plan is to work on my rug today. I hope your day is filled to the brim with pleasant things.
~Kim~
---From The Land Breakers---"The wash of color flowed down toward the clearing, reached it in the sharpness of an early morning. And about them now the woods were changed into a fairyland of color.
The Buckeye turned yellow and dropped its eye-shaped seeds. The box elder near the spring spring turned into a bank of yellow leaves and pods; the maple in the valley just to the edge of the clearing got red as fire and beside it a white oak turned into the color of old wine; the sourwood was a rich red, the red oak was orange, and the possums climbed higher every night into the persimmon trees."( John Ehle)