Gracious Me, Look at all those Parcels!
A few days ago I picked up the first of several packages of "parcels" for the Gracious Parcels 2006 project. This morning I go to pick up several more. The creativity and care that went into these parcels is evident, and so appreciated. I know the family that gets the blanket with these lovely parcels of love and fellowship woven together within it will love the gift, but I also take your creativity to heart very personally as a gift to me. Thank you, each of you lovely knitters for your generosity and participation.
Also, if any participant would like to share the pattern she used, or any tips or suggestions for the lovely tags, I will post your entries on the Gracious Parcels page. Inspiration is a catching thing, after all.
All of the parcels are lovely, well made, and tenderly presented. From the colors chosen that represent the fields and orchards in the area, to the creativity and warmth in the tags ... I love them all, love them so much. I even love the envelopes they came in. It is all so beautiful and so heartwarming. This is a fine project and I look forward to pushing it forward throughout the coming years.
Yesterday we woke up to three inches of snow. Snow can be so different, one snow to the next. The surprise snow storm back in early October was a wet, heavy and destructive early snow. It fell hard and quick, and disappeared from our place even more quickly than it arrived.
This week's snow is different. This snow came at a civilized time. Its arrival was well planned for, and it came quietly and politely during the evening and overnight. Like a welcome guest, it waited in the yard, on the drive, by the door; waited for us to greet it with a smile and a hello.
And, like a welcome guest ... it stayed. Even now the yard is white and soft, speaking to me of Christmas time.
Last evening, the sky was fairly clear and a fat moon shared warm light across the twilight snow. We stood looking out the window by the fireplace at the barn standing strong atop a lawn of moonlight blue snow, long shadows from our tall trees stretching out in front of it and creating a special space.
This morning as the sun continued its slumber, I looked out again at the barn. The lights from my upstairs office were reflecting off of a window in the front of the barn. I imagined a jolly old elf in a warm red suit out there in our barn, borrowing it as a makeshift shop to make and store toys for children in this area. I could feel his warmth out there, and wished he had a moment to step inside and share a cup of hot cocoa with me ... but he has important work to do and I didn't want to disturb him.
Yesterday morning I went outside twice for a photo walk about the yard, tracking more of the daily progress of my discovery of my new life, my new world.
The corn so golden still, lit up against the snowy ground and the towering, yet bare willow.
I stepped into the cornfield on the east side of the farm and was mystified by the new space created by a blanket of snow between the rows. Strange how snow creates new spaces where before space might not have been considered. I used to love to go out in the woods by myself as a child on snow days. I spent much of my childhood playing alone in the woods: I was into trees. When the woods were freshly covered in snow, it was a quiet and magical place to be. Here and there big pillows of snow fell from on high, delighting me once in a while by landing on my head. I felt alone but secure somehow.
I am developing a relationship with the trees on our place here, as I get to know them better and capture their changing lives in my photography. Our dear little gumdrop tree is best friends with the willow. They are a bit of an odd couple, but they don't seem to notice that at all. I think they're sweet.
This morning I get to drive my husband's pickup truck into the village to pick up more Gracious Parcels. I have a Ford Explorer, but we are keeping it off the roads this winter so it doesn't suffer damage from the salt and whatever else winter leaves on the roadways. That's cool; I love pickup trucks and it will be fun to get all bundled up and go for a little drive.
And ... I'm off to do that right now.
Here's to you and yours!
~firefly
Also, if any participant would like to share the pattern she used, or any tips or suggestions for the lovely tags, I will post your entries on the Gracious Parcels page. Inspiration is a catching thing, after all.
All of the parcels are lovely, well made, and tenderly presented. From the colors chosen that represent the fields and orchards in the area, to the creativity and warmth in the tags ... I love them all, love them so much. I even love the envelopes they came in. It is all so beautiful and so heartwarming. This is a fine project and I look forward to pushing it forward throughout the coming years.
Yesterday we woke up to three inches of snow. Snow can be so different, one snow to the next. The surprise snow storm back in early October was a wet, heavy and destructive early snow. It fell hard and quick, and disappeared from our place even more quickly than it arrived.
This week's snow is different. This snow came at a civilized time. Its arrival was well planned for, and it came quietly and politely during the evening and overnight. Like a welcome guest, it waited in the yard, on the drive, by the door; waited for us to greet it with a smile and a hello.
And, like a welcome guest ... it stayed. Even now the yard is white and soft, speaking to me of Christmas time.
Last evening, the sky was fairly clear and a fat moon shared warm light across the twilight snow. We stood looking out the window by the fireplace at the barn standing strong atop a lawn of moonlight blue snow, long shadows from our tall trees stretching out in front of it and creating a special space.
This morning as the sun continued its slumber, I looked out again at the barn. The lights from my upstairs office were reflecting off of a window in the front of the barn. I imagined a jolly old elf in a warm red suit out there in our barn, borrowing it as a makeshift shop to make and store toys for children in this area. I could feel his warmth out there, and wished he had a moment to step inside and share a cup of hot cocoa with me ... but he has important work to do and I didn't want to disturb him.
Yesterday morning I went outside twice for a photo walk about the yard, tracking more of the daily progress of my discovery of my new life, my new world.
The corn so golden still, lit up against the snowy ground and the towering, yet bare willow.
I stepped into the cornfield on the east side of the farm and was mystified by the new space created by a blanket of snow between the rows. Strange how snow creates new spaces where before space might not have been considered. I used to love to go out in the woods by myself as a child on snow days. I spent much of my childhood playing alone in the woods: I was into trees. When the woods were freshly covered in snow, it was a quiet and magical place to be. Here and there big pillows of snow fell from on high, delighting me once in a while by landing on my head. I felt alone but secure somehow.
I am developing a relationship with the trees on our place here, as I get to know them better and capture their changing lives in my photography. Our dear little gumdrop tree is best friends with the willow. They are a bit of an odd couple, but they don't seem to notice that at all. I think they're sweet.
This morning I get to drive my husband's pickup truck into the village to pick up more Gracious Parcels. I have a Ford Explorer, but we are keeping it off the roads this winter so it doesn't suffer damage from the salt and whatever else winter leaves on the roadways. That's cool; I love pickup trucks and it will be fun to get all bundled up and go for a little drive.
And ... I'm off to do that right now.
Here's to you and yours!
~firefly