Saturday, August 11, 2007

This Dappled Morning

The far field
dazzles with the hawkweed,
yellow, festive,
and the sheep
has eaten all the
tasty blossoms around her.
Shadows of swallows
slide over the long grass
golden beneath the rowan
whose berries swell in
crimson clusters on the bough.
I feel as solitary
and prickly as a thistle,
this dappled morning,
as I lean on the cold iron of the anvil.
The bronze knitting needles I have made
are golden bright from the rouge,
and lie on the work bench
waiting to be sent
all over the planet.
I can see them go
like the many shadows of birds
flying out, away,
to land in a pair of hands.
Hands that will draw to them yarn,
like the wool of my sheep,
distilled from a field of yellow flowers.
Hands that will draw to them patterns,
like the rowan now growing,
its grey branches knitted to the blue of the sky,
its berries, red within green,
celebrating magic, utility, motion, and beauty.

Molly Swan-Sheeran copyright 2007
Read more of my poems?

Sunday, August 05, 2007


Day after day of sunshine! I'm about to get Northwest Sunshine Panic Syndrome!
We have been picking salal berries and baking tarts. Salal berries were a big thing for the native people here. They made fruit leather out of it, and then rolled the sheets of it up into a huge wheel to last the winter. It has no thorns! They taste like blueberries.
Eating great quantities of it makes you poop green. (Too much information?)

The sock trade is rolling along & picking up speed. I have over a dozen avid knitters casting on stitches and beginning to knit me a pair of lovely socks. I cannot tell you how exciting this is! I think I better buy more bronze! Since I love smithing out the knitting needles, and whimper & sob when I try to knit socks, this is a match made in heaven.
Meanwhile we have had house guests, and more coming at regular intervals this whole month. But we really like guests, so that is fine. John & I love to cook for people, and to take them hiking around here.