Birthday present from Daughter #1, who knows me so well.
We have had an organic alarm clock all summer and fall. In early June, we noticed a cardinal who kept flying to the windows, trying to perch. After a day of determined practice, he figured it out, and he spent the rest of the summer adding to his “window route.” Every sunrise, he flies from window to window around our house, perching and peeking. He doesn’t sing or chatter much, but we wake up to the flutter of his wings on the windows.
When it was hot and dry in July and August, I put a small birdbath out for him in a shaded area, and kept it fresh. Now that we are getting into cold weather, I may need to find a way to leave food for him.
I’m not normally one for encouraging wildlife to become dependent upon human intervention, but he’s such a determined fellow, and so consistent, that I am re-thinking my position on the matter.
Oh, and there is a Mrs. Peeping Cardinal. I saw her several times over the summer, perching in the branches of nearby trees and bushes, but as far as I know, she has never tried her mate’s behavior.
I would love to know what’s going on in his fluffy brain. He’s not attacking the windows (or his reflection) like some have suggested. He is clearly and deliberately perching and looking in, every morning at sunrise (and on the weekends, when I’m sitting in “my chair” knitting or reading, he will come for a visit.)
My Grandmother Charline passed away 11 years ago. One memory I cherish is of her beautiful African Violets, which she had across her north windows in the living room, and cared for diligently. My grandfather kept the care of them for almost a decade after her death, but when he moved into an assisted living apartment, he couldn’t bring them. When they were offered, I gladly gave them a home, re-potted them, and set them in a shaded south window. It took them almost a year, but they have taken off, and I love the beautiful blooms. They are a little leggy because of the southern exposure, I think, but they seem to like their new home.
For Father’s Day, I gave my grandfather a cutting from one of the plants for his room.
Yarn bombing is such a whimsical expression of the art. Check out the full post and enjoy a few minutes escape from the world.
I met a Raveller from an antique land
Who said: ‘Two vast and trunkless* legs of bronze
Stand in the town square. Above them, on the man,
Half shrunk, a soggy sweater clings, whose size,
And gathered hip, and fitted wrist band
Tell that its knitter well those contours read.
Which yet survive, draped about these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them while the town was in bed.
And on its breast these intarsia’d words appear –
“My name is Knittymandias, king of kings:
Look on these crafty works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal turtleneck, littered everywhere
The scattered strands of yarn stretch far away.’
*Not wearing pants A shameless rip-off of Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yarn bombing is becoming popular form of textile instillation art. This trend not only lifts knitting as an art form in its own right (and not “merely” a craft), it also provides the public with something interesting, eye-catching, colorful, and thought-provoking in unlikely but readily-accessible locations.
The Knitterati group installed an ambitious bridge project in Atlanta. Click the picture below or the link to see more of their adventurous installations.