Anne had a wine and dye party at her house on Saturday. I didn’t think I was going to be able to go at first, but then at the last minute my schedule miraculously cleared itself, so I went. I was late, so though there was still plenty of food, it was a bit ravaged.

Here are Anne and Sandy (sadly blogless) looking into their pots of yarn and color. A lot of us had never done this before. Anne was great at leading everyone through it. So far I’ve only seen Sandy’s and Amanda’s (also blogless!) finished, dry yarn. Both turned out beautifully! You’d never know it was their first attempt at this.

What about my yarn, you ask? I didn’t dye any. I don’t own any white wool! Clearly I’m going to have to get my hands on some before Anne’s next party. Instead, I talked, knit a little, and had some lovely red wine.

In honor of today’s holiday, check out Google’s logo. I thought I’d also share this classic.

In Flanders’ Fields
by Lt.-Col. John McCrae
 
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
 
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
 
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.