Fiber Dreams

Because we live in fire country, the county makes us—quite reasonably, I think—cut down the weeds in our yard every year. At least once. On occasion, during wetter years, we’ve had to do it twice; the first time is always mid April, the second time, if required, is usually in August. I think. Unless we get a fair amount of currently unexpected rain, we’ll only have to have the weeds cut down once this year.

It’s been so very dry for several years running that the character of the weeds that grow on our lot has changed completely. Our yard used to be filled with wild oats and fennel. Now most of the weeds are these broad-leafed things. No idea what they are. The oats are more deeply rooted, and have roots that spread a lot more, helping to keep the hillside, well, on the hill, better than the tap-rooted broad-leafed things. The fennel, not too helpful in hill holding because of the tap root, are mostly gone because the gophers like to eat them. They can have all the fennel they want, as far as I’m concerned.

Still, there are benefits to the change.

For one, I don’t seem to be very allergic to these new plants, while I am quite allergic to wild oats, and I hate licorice, so really like not rubbing up against the fennel when I happen to be out back. I guess there’s something good in just about everything.

Anyway, the gardeners are here today to cut down the weeds. They’ll do our yard, plus the yards on either side of us, plus probably at least two or three other yards, all today. At least the cutting part will be done today. They’ll come back in a day or two with their large pieces of burlap and some rakes, and will pick up and haul away all the dead weeds. Some of the other gardeners that service our hill pack the dead weeds up in plastic bags. Sr. Castro has his guys use large burlap squares. I love that part. For a number of reasons. The best is the dual benefit of less plastic in the landfill, and the reusability of the burlap. The other is that it’s amazing to watch these guys carry the heavy weed-laden burlap squares up the hill. They make huge packages of the burlap, tie the ends, sling them up and over their shoulders, then walk up the hill. I’ll try to get pictures this year of the guys hauling the weeds away. It’s an awe-inspiring feat of strength, balance, skill.

We’ve had Sr. Castro and his boys cut down the weeds on our hill once (or twice) every year for a long time now. This is the thirteenth year. Over the years that we’ve known Sr. Castro his hair has gotten whiter, and his English better. One thing that never changes is the quality and speed of the work. It’s amazing, really. These lots are not small, and they’re mostly left natural. Plus, they’re steep. Very steep. We’ve watched this process probably twenty times now, and never cease to be amazed by it.

No closer to a name

I’m no closer to deciding on a name for the vine stole, but I did make some good progress on the border over the weekend with the new Malabrigo Lace. The “top” of the stole is done, and I’ve gotten about a third of the way down one side. I like the way the vine pattern merges with the corner lace, then grows out of it again on the other side.

Over and done with

After lots of second chances, third chances, renewals with my fingers crossed, I’ve finally decided not to renew my subscription to Knitter’s magazine this time. So, the issue that arrived on Saturday, Spring 2008, the big disappointment (again), will be my last for some time to come. It’s sad, really. I’ve subscribed to this magazine for most of the last 16 years. I don’t know if it’s me, or them, or some combination of the two, but I no longer like most of what’s in the issues. Take the new one, for example. I pretty much hate everything in it—except for one sweater, Sandbars, which I don’t hate, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever knit it. What is with all those horizontal stripes? Frustrating. Disappointing. Discouraging. After all these years I’d like to renew again, but I’d be throwing good money after bad. The only thing I’m remotely interested in, again, is Perri Klass’ article. It’s just not worth subscribing for that one column. Sorry, Perri.

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