April Fools Scarf

 

Early spring torments me. It's always been like this for me, like being invited to a birthday party that's supposed to be fun, but which inevitably will be chaotic. Nervous energy, too much coffee, too bright, too much old snow, too much coffee, wind, mud.  I start one thing, and then another, and finally there are a string of started jobs behind me, a trail of open stepladders, half wound spools, tax paper work, peppered with forgotten coffee cups, misplaced threading hooks and calculators.

Settling down to weave is important. Bringing my nose to some work at hand calms my innervation.  Color and Rosepath contain this flux of ideas I'm experiencing, and make some sense of it. Going outside is a big help, too.

I tried this scarf I just finished, on a walk up  the road to the quarry yesterday.  An experiment, Would I like it, or would I want to tear it off? I wound it on and checked the mirror.  It looked fine. With my old brown and green wool plaid jacket, it looked surprisingly fresh.

Then I walked up past Falk's old house, where the new neighbors are cleaning and clearing out what's left of his stuff.  It was late afternoon, and the crew of guys were calling it a day, standing around a smouldering brush fire of Falk's old overgrown lilac hedge, and his roses.  They looked like they were  well in to a 12-pack.  Some little kids stood on a heap of debris nearby. They all stopped talking and stared as I walked by.  I waved and said, Hi. Two of them raised their hands.  Maybe it was just the fresh air, but something changed. Or, it might have been my bright and shining scarf, but suddenly I felt good, like myself again.  I clearly knew what I wanted to do next,  check if the watercress at the spring is ready to pick, and look for pussy willows.