kelly hollow

disclaimer: loads of photos, awkwardly placed due to graceless editing program.

kelly hollow is a cross country ski trail in winter and a very accessible hiking trail the rest of the year. it's one of those trails built on an old logging road for a good part of the way, but don't let this deter you. just because it's easy, don't think it will be dull. it's full of dense forest of all sorts (spruce, hemlock and white pine primarily). sometimes you see one forest on your left and across the trail is an entirely different world. you'll hike to the constant sound of water tearing around all over the place (there are plenty of falls, but no good photos yet).

it's a double loop trail and depending on how much of it you hike you will

also find a lean-to, a pond full of very loud frogs and and ancient apple orchard. the loops are 2 and just under 4 miles, making either one a quick afternoon hike. someone with a little more time can do both loops.

you will find low stone fences along much of the trail, but take one of the loops and once past the pond you'll find a collection of foundations and a wall or two sitting on top of them. they're in a nice clearing and if you passed up a chance to have lunch at the lean-to, this is a nice place to stop.

the trailhead is on mill brook road and the drive there is pretty spectacular itself. from 28 take dry brook road south about six miles through mapledale and seager (you will know you are in towns only because of the signs, not because there is a town there) to millbrook road. the intersection with millbrook is a Y and there is a dilapidated barn to let you know you're in the right place. a right onto millbrook gets you into some spectacular scenery (especially in winter) for the final nine miles of driving. the trail is on the left and there's always plenty of parking.

the best part was the drive back, though, because we came upon a pile of turkeys. wild ones are nicer to look at, shiny black-blue and sleek. turkeys are very large and although we've seen plenty around town, we'd never seen a pack of them. there are only five here, but there were at least ten in the middle of the road when we rounded a curve and saw them up the rise. i thought they were dogs.

redbird

more baby stuff. more yarn. this is a basic top-down sweater pattern (they're all over the internet and are easy to modify) with an umbilical cord hat (from stitch 'n bitch). the mittens don't have thumbs because if you've ever seen a baby up close, they don't keep their thumbs too far from the rest of themselves. i tried to convince my sister that baby thumbs don't grown in until they're older, but she's not paying attention to that sort of thing. the mittens are made like tiny hats and are on i-cord that runs through the sleeves for lower mitten-loss. they're also easy to remove from the coat.

i love the giant old lady buttons and am, in general, a huge fan of giant buttons on baby things. and bold colors. if i think my grandma nellie might have liked the button/color combo, i'm happy. most of the buttons i use come from tins she kept in her house for, i guess, button emergencies.

because we had a giant blizzard here overnight (but not a snow day because there's no school), i thought i'd put the little redbird in its natural habitat- a snowy brooklyn backyard. these photos were taken just as the soft, fluffy snow was turning to stabbing ice pellets. as you can see to the left, even the train cut looks sassy in the snow.

american flag

caution: there is a distinct possibility some folks will misinterpret this as unpatriotic. probably the same idiots who fly flags in the rain and at night or off their truck antennas and who have those stupid bumper stickers saying "these colors don't run" splashed over a flag coated with truck exhaust.

in the new york city public schools there are american flags in the classrooms and each day with the morning announcements someone recites the pledge, generally in an uncomprehending monotone. students in the classrooms stand up, put hands over hearts and mutter words they've never once thought about. there are the occasional students who don't. children whose religion forbids pledging loyalty to an object, children who are not citizens, children who are tired, the rare few whose parents have told them nobody can make them stand up and talk to a flag. it seems like an odd thing to set aside time daily for children to make a promise they don't have a clue how to keep. perhaps it would be helpful to explain to the children what they're saying, what they're pledging, if it's expected to be meaningful and really anything beyond the thirty second interruption to the instructional day it currently is.

in some classes the children who don't stand are pounced on by teachers and other staff who scream, "show some respect!" generally this screaming is done in the middle of and far louder than the pledge droning on behind it. effective.

there is no flag in my classroom. this is not deliberate. there is no filter or faceplate on the window unit air conditioner in there either. only one of the six windows opens. there is no shut off for the radiator. there are six ancient, broken computers. there is no lock or latch on the door so when the radiator is blasting in february and we have the single openable window open so we don't suffocate, the door swings open and bangs shut of its own accord. there is no flag.

i do not require my students to say the pledge. i do require them to sit quietly for the few seconds the intercom buzzes with the less than heartfelt daily promise. i have also discussed the pledge with my students. i have explained that if the words are meaningful, they should stand up and say them, but if not, it is best they sit quietly and allow others their bit of connection to whatever it is a 14 year old connects to at 8.45 while looking at a flag. most sit quietly. several stand and pledge allegiance to a corner of the room where a flag might be if we had one. which brings us to the next problem. there is no flag in my classroom. it seems the height of vulgarity to slap up one of those dollar flags made in china if we're supposed to take this seriously. how can anyone pledge anything to something so poorly made?

so i asked if the children would feel better about this whole pledge thing if i made a flag? i do not want to make a flag. i have managed four years in this room just fine without one. i'd be much happier without the announcements and the pledge interrupting the last few minutes i have to trick these kids into learning something. but i ask anyway.
yes.
fine. okay. good. i'll make a flag. a child raises a hand. yes?
do you mean you're going to knit one?
yes.
really?
yes. okay. quiet. pause. back to class. fifteen minutes later a hand goes up.
miss?
yes.
are you going to knit all fifty stars?
crap. hadn't thought of that. i must be talking about knitting too much in class if this boy knows knitting fifty stars is harder than the stripes. i'll figure something out, i tell him.

so i am now at the place where i need to add stars. i need to figure something out. i've been very careful so far and i'm surprised how much i like this almost-flag. it is very soft and the colors are quite striking together. already it is prettier than flags in other classrooms. that blue really does look like the night sky, ready for constellations. one of the many websites with flag history mentioned that for quite some time there was no specific way to display the parts of the flag. for a while there were fifteen stars and fifteen stripes. evidently each flagmaker put stars wherever until 1912. it wasn't until 1959 that the current arrangement was made official by executive order of president eisenhower. i am doing my best to abide by his order. nine rows of stars staggered horizontally and eleven rows of stars staggered vertically.

the first attempt at stars involved a tragic counting mishap. yes, there were fifty stars and yes, they were in the right rows, but they were all scooted staffward and had to be ripped out. the second application of stars worked better. some stars still need to be pulled straight, but they're on and where they're supposed to be.

it will never make sense to me to require the pledge in school. it's like trying to force people to tell you they love you. if you have to force them, it's not really love. but teenagers are adept at whispering lies about love. they don't seem to mind. and i guess if they have to look at it every day maybe once in a while they'll think about real love and real dedication and real promises. what else would drive someone to make something as absurd as a handknit wool flag?

hatch

well, as i mentioned before, people keep having those babies and i'm knitting just fast enough to keep up. then a friend threw a wrench in the works by having twins. a month or two early! so i am busily knitting things for two girls who are very tiny (four pounds each, more or less when they came out).

because the first ultrasound i saw showed one baby vigorously kicking the head of the other baby, i set to work making devil pants for that one and angel pants for the other. the devil tail may be tough to see in the photo, but it's there. click to enlarge it. both are made with a cotton/silk blend yarn called attitude from classic elite yarns. the gold for the butt wings and belt of the angel pants is a much lighter weight yarn of the same blend.

when the babies came out it was apparent they were both girls so i started on tiny, super-girly cardigans using patons soy wool stripe in geranium for one and plum for the other. it's wool and soy in stripe form. plenty of fiber.

i made a couple of dresses but forgot to photograph them, so nevermind. but on saturday i went to the hospital to see the new girls and they were wrapped up like burritos and rested in little boxes. they were fascinating the way other baby animals are fascinating, mostly head with a body that seems unimportant for now. they don't quite seem real and don't use their eyes much yet. they are so small they're sort of frightening because of the smallness but the fact that they came out so early and so tiny and are insisting on being is impressive. they open giant soft eyes and small teardrop mouths and they curl and uncurl fingers. they want things and they know we exist. they just don't seem to know what to do with us yet.

p funk

l train, manhattan bound, rush hour on a thursday evening. two stops from the water in brooklyn a man rushes in as the doors close. he seems like everyone else. late thirties. khaki pants and a dark coat. his hat is green wool with earflaps. very nicely knit. expensive wool. he has a dark backpack fully on his back, his arms through both straps. this is the first hint, but the train is crowded and it escapes notice. he spins around and throws himself, backpack first, into the only empty seat on the train, much to the consternation of little old ladies, elderly men with canes and mothers with small, sleepy children. this is the second hint and some people glare at him, able-bodied and healthy, shoving his way into a seat while the weaker of the community struggle to stand.

and then it begins. there is a loud shout, "ladies and gentlemen, may i have your attention please!!!" the voice is two or three people away from backpack man and belongs to a creature from another planet. literally. he looks like someone put george clinton and all the p-funk all-stars in a blender and poured the results into a tiny, old man. but he is beaming. his glasses are made of pipe cleaner and glitter and plastic. he has antennae on his head. there are giant plastic jewels draped all over him and what has to be the most tragic saxophone in the world. backpack man's fingers go quickly to his ears. his hands, under the earflaps of his hat, tremble and shake. the saxophonist continues, explaining that his spaceship has crashed (the mothership?) and he's stuck here in need of assitance. a few people laugh or smile. it wouldn't be so bad if starchild actually found his way to the l train. starchild promises all the things you'd think a messiah could offer. his music will take us somewhere. somewhere that isn't a stuffy train getting ready to travel under the water into the city.

mr. backpack is by now rocking back and forth. his fingers are lodged well into his ears. his body, with its overstuffed backpack, grates against those on either side of him who have finally noticed him suffering. starchild begins to play. it is loud. it is out of tune, off key and anything else you might think of to say about music that doesn't work. it is terrible. he plays loud and fierce and with passion but without any skill at all. but quite a few people continue to watch him and smile. he plays under the river and back out again. it is like cats in a washing machine. mr. backpack continues rocking, growling, "i can't take this!" over and over again. up from under the river but not at the station yet, starchild finishes and a few folks clap. backpack growls quietly. starchild wants help repairing his spaceship. earth dollars will help. some people dig into their supply of earth dollars. starchild thanks us and promises us a gift when his spaceship is up and running. he will take george bush with him. what took you so long, starchild?