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It floors me the number of people who come to the Library and have nothing to do with the books. (In his defense, the guy whose legs and laptop are in this picture came after I took it and asked for help finding a book... How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional World. Yes - he was a nerd, to the extent that I could have guessed what genre of book he would ask for before he asked.)
On a cold and clammy day in early Spring, where will you find me but sitting outside a cafe writing poetry about how the grey sky accents the greening trees? I love the symbolism of transformation.
My Moonlit Knits label bag that I drag everywhere and stuff everything into. (Current inventory includes a Bible, 2 notebooks, Radical, Valley of Vision, 3 Sharpies, a camera, waterproof military paper and pepper spray - not a complete list, but some of the more unusual things.)
One of my favorite poets is JRR Tolkien, and one of my favorite poems of his goes thusly:
The road goes ever on and on,
over rock and under tree,
by cave where never sun hath shone,
by stream that never finds the sea;
Over snow by winter sown
and through the merry flowers of June,
over grass and over stone
and under mountains in the moon.
The road goes ever on and on,
under cloud and under star,
yet feet that wandering have gone,
turn at last to home afar;
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
and horror in the halls of stone,
look at last on meadows green,
on trees and hills they long have known.
On the first of April every year, Casey the Code Monkey and Mama Rav assign every Raveler a random hat. Last year I had a cowboy hat. This year 'twas a propeller beanie, and I changed my Ravatar to a completely appropriate picture of Spock (because he totally would have worn a propeller beanie as a little Vulcan child, right?)
The Farmer's Market started up Saturday, and this poor pooch wanted to join all the people and dogs that were using the sidewalk in front of his house. Sadly, all he could manage was a sniff and a wag.
National Poetry Month inspires me - sometimes to originality, but sometimes to jot the first page of my favorite epic poem on my coffee cup. (Beowulf. I have the first few pages memorized - not because I tried, but because I've read it so much. And then phrases like "worda ond worca" [what's said and what's done, referring to what a man is judged by] also stick out to me.)
The Greek word poema is translated literally as "workmanship." I love that, because effort does go into the writing of poetry --- and because everything that's God's workmanship is a poem written by His hand.


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31 Days of Unraveling Designs

It's that time of year again... the 31 Days writing challenge starts today! Bloggers from all over will be writing every day of the month of October on the topic of their choosing. This will be my fourth year participating - the first year I did 7 for 31, and spent a month going through Jen Hatmaker's book 7. The second year I did 31 Days of Sustainable Dwelling, and wrote about local and fair trade living. Last year I was busy but still wanted to participate, so I went the easy route with 31 Days of Everyday Beautiful.

This year I'm diving into my greatest passion: knitting! I'll spend this month looking at past designs and talking about the inspiration behind them, so there will be plenty of regular life mixed in with the stitching - and there may be discount codes for the patterns that I write about. You'll just have to read and see!

Pattern index:

Pageturner Mitts
Hogwarts House Tie
Urban Artemis
Graffiti for Humanity
Love Out Loud
Strange Jacket


In order to change your knitting, you must first change yourself. I've lost track of how many times I've said that, or how many people I've said it to. Frustrated new knitters wondering why their work is loose or tight or uneven or really anything less than perfect. But something I love about knitting is that it's a record of your inner dialogue. That swatch knit at the yarn store table with a cozy cup of coffee and a helpful (and more experienced) knitter nearby is going to be a lot more relaxed than the sweater begun a week later while sitting next to a hospital bed - just like the knitter.

Unfortunately, this also applies to my own knitting. For years, I was apparently unaffected by the shifts and turmoils in my own life, so I assumed that I was exempt from the rule - when the reality was, in fact, that I wasn't really experiencing any of those on anything deeper than a surface level because everything was deadened by depression. When I finally started to really…


A few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of replacing the traditional list of resolutions with a single word. It appealed to me - I am not a big list person, but I love language and words and meanings and etymology and metaphor and... ahem. Ennyhoo. I liked the idea.
I've never chosen the word. It's always presented itself to me - and last year was no different. Pacific was very insistent, even though I tried to argue with it. Pacific? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with that?
But I accepted it, and I'm glad I did. I learned about depth and calm, about storm and nurture, about faith and adventure - and about the unstoppable ocean of God's grace, that overwhelms to fill and cleanse and bring blessings unasked.
So I'm bidding pacific a very fond farewell, and welcoming spark and whatever lessons it would like to bring. I invited it in with a copper wire punctuated with tiny lights and wrapped around my mood board, and I've got an empt…