Asparagus in the Snow
Last week Bells posted a mouthwatering photo of grilled asparagus, and so I was thinking of getting a picture of an asparagus field in the snow. Then I went out to my car and found this: an asparagus stalk in the snow, with a couple of red berries still on it, looking like a Christmas tree.
I haven't been doing a lot of knitting, and what little I have done is of the stealth variety. Not complicated, just secret stuff.
I've been doing a lot of reading. I recently found that William Felkin's 1867 A History of the Machine-wrought Hosiery and Lace Manufactures was up on Google Books, and have been reading that.
Although I take Felkin's speculations on the origins of knitting with the proverbial grain of salt, when he talks about the use and development of knitting frames in the 19th century, that is his own direct experience. He entered the stocking-making business in 1808 when he was 13, and published his history at the age of 72, so what he reports in that time span has to be given some weight.
Actually, when I read some of his quotes about the Odyssey about "weaving a robe of double texture" or "the work of both sides being alike", I wonder if Homer was talking about sprang. The 19th century translators probably had never heard of it, but there are Greek finds of sprang hairnets and vases showing women working on what could be sprang frames.
This is the picture I originally meant to get of asparagus in the snow. After the picking season they let the asparagus grow out to the fern stage, and in the winter it turns brown.
I took the picture early in the morning, but that's our typical winter sky all over. Gray, black, brown and white are our winter colors.
And speaking of winter, this is what I've been driving on lately. I only work two nights a week, and it has been snowing on those two nights.
Yesterday we were down to bare pavement, but this morning we're back to glazed and slippery. My driving-in-snow skills are definitely getting a workout so far this winter!