the morning fire

happens to be the ONLY part of camping I enjoy. And this might be the only one we have this week as the forecast is for rain showers, rain, rain, rain, and thunderstorms. We are camping about 10 feet from the Dead River. I don't really like to think about why it's called "Dead" - the ducks seem to like it well enough though. I am taking the Flash Flood warnings in stride though. I'm only marginally concerned that I will wake up in the night floating down the river in our rental camper. My husband is not at all concerned so I am taking strength from him at this point.

The prayer shawl is coming along nicely. The mix of baby cashmerino and Noro sock yarn is subtle and soothing and surpringly soft. Okay that alliteration is in reference to last night's campfire conversation about snakes in Maine that like to nest under rental campers. I don't really mind snakes. But the spiders...OHMYGOD...there is a big black spider with a body as big as a plum ( I am not even exagerating a tiny bit here) living in the bush at my parents' sight. My father, the great outdoorsman that he is, keeps trying to blowtorch it to death but it continues to elude him.

But I was talking about that shawl...everyone (all non-knitters) is very interested in the concept and is eager to do a few stitches. The only trouble I am having with it is fighting the urge to undo their work because it's so mindbogglingly tight - I am, as many of you know, the loosest knitter on the planet...

But back to it...
Yours in soggy, rained on wool,
Claire