The End is Near
I've reached the end of Christel's petal section and started on the section of the chart that says "repeat 24 times per round".
The first row of that section is 624 stitches. Whew. I have to pace myself so I don't get sick of Christel entirely. The whole first 624-stitch round is "K3, YO, SKP, YO". A hundred and four times.
How Julie ever got through Helmut I don't know.
(imaginary picture here) I probably should have taken pictures of the ripping-back process here, because I didn't tink stitch by stitch. I don't use lifelines (bad me). Didn't rip back around and around.
Instead I re-insert a needle in the stitches one row above where I want to be, rip out all the rows down to that needle, then tink (un-knit, stitch by stitch, or the word "knit" backwards) just that very last row.
By the time I get around to that very last needle, I have a ring of four rows' worth of thread to wind around the ball and re-knit. But it's fiddly work and I don't like to stop even for pictures while I'm doing it.
So. Let's look at birds.
These two flash guys on my suet are male rose-breasted grosbeaks, Pheucticus ludovicianus.
A lot of my birdwatching these days is really bird listening. I've already scoped them out on binoculars, paged through my bird books, and figured out which bird was what and made which sound.
For some reason, Mr. Pheucticus was an exception. Spring after spring, I'd hear him singing and think, "What the heck bird is that?"
I think I've finally got him down.
Eighteen, going on nineteen years I've lived in the same place and listened to mostly the same birds. Eventually I learn.
One last poem for the end of Poetry Month:
Spring Rain, by Marchette Chute
The storm came up so very quick
It couldn't have been quicker.
I should have brought my hat along,
I should have brought my slicker.
My hair is wet, my feet are wet,
I couldn't be much wetter.
I fell into a river once
But this is even better.