My Sock’s a Tree Hugger and so am I…

Arlene came down to check on what I was doing. She saw me sitting high up in the air on the spare tire attached to my Jeep. I told her I was waiting for the sun to come back out so I could take a picture of the maple tree by the side of the road.

I think she thought me a bit odd and was too polite to mention it but agreed with me about how very beautiful the tree was. She laughed and said, “No, I haven’t combed my hair today,” when I asked if I could take her picture with the tree. I thought her white hair was as beautiful as her bright blue eyes. She went back up to the house when the sun went back behind a cloud. I’d thought the house was abandoned, with its missing windows and a truck half buried in the yard, but was happy to know someone was there as magnetized to orange and red as I.

I roamed some more and the more I roamed, the better it got…

I gorged myself on color until I was almost too dizzy to continue.

but I found just one more…

How to Amaze & Astonish the Locals…

Even though I’ve been traveling up to Northern Lower Michigan for years, I don’t really live here. My Parents moved to Tustin after all the kids left home – a romantic turn of events to mirror their first married days together when my Dad worked for the Highway Department.

Tustin calls itself the Headwaters of the Pines and indeed, you cannot walk any feet whatsover without being in the trees, sharing their wonderful air, being tickled by that fringe they have that passes for leaves.

It’s autumn now and Pine’s good friends and neighbors the Oaks, Maples, et all, are merging into an color palette that is so delicious but so elusive of words I’ll just have to show you…

AMAZE: take pictures of everthing moving
or not moving that is even slightly different from home.

I ran away up here for a few days to escape Chicago. The noise, the crowds, the endless traffic jams become too much for me a couple of times a year and I am lucky enough to have a Mom who will welcome me with a warm house, meatloaf and a baked potato if I land on her doorstep.

She’s also a knitter and we can knit together and watch old movies (currently having an Ingrid Bergman fest -“For Whom the Bell Tolls” & “Anastasia”).

Socks like that. I brought some with me, trying to Do the Right Thing and clear out the workbasket. I’ve been working on three different pairs since last year when I had the Sock Bug and it’s too sad to see Onsies sitting around the house so OFF they Go ON the Road and maybe get done…

I’ve discovered something odd though: people here do not knit while standing in line at the Walmart Superstore. They do not pull out the Sock while sitting in the McDonald’s enjoying a Happy Meal and knock off 1.5 rounds. And they don’t do THIS, apparently, EVER:

ASTONISH (scare the crap outta) the Locals: bring a sock to knit while you wait for your Mom to finish her doctor’s appointment, but leave the pattern in Chicago. Ask the receptionist for a piece of paper. Trace your Naked Foot. Put the sock down on the floor compare to your tracing to try and figure out the length and toe shaping you have to do.
PULL out your CAMERA to make sure with a picture.
See people on both sides of you get up from their seats and move to the other (really crowded) side of the waiting room…

AH – just a few miles away and you’re back in the woods, wandering around in blissful piney-ness not even caring if anyone (not likely) sees you petting the trees, delighted with their tickling handshake, letting them hold the new sock for awhile in return…

You are both Tourists and you are not ashamed…

  Monday Morning Mirth