I knew nothing of his background when we first met, and I’m glad of that; I got to know him a little with no preconceptions. His Scottish last name matched my great-grandmother’s and we figured we were cousins way back there somewhere.

Gradually, some of his stories seemed farfetched enough that I wasn’t sure I believed them.

Today I found out how true the one I questioned the most was. I was not expecting that.

His close friend from high school played a flamenco tune that James had taught him to play on his guitar all those years ago, and talked about James’s stage name and how he’d come by it and the travels and lessons and performances.

So that was real. That wasn’t the imaginings of a hard-core homeless man who once threw a major tantrum at me when I emailed him of an apartment opening for those who wanted to come off the street. I’m sure he saw it as me looking down on him, but it was pure naivet’e. He was where he felt comfortable being. In the end, just before his kidneys finished giving out, he did in fact accept moving into a place built to help people like him. That was his offer of comfort to the rest of us.

James was a gifted artist of a gardener. He was hired by someone I vaguely knew who was building a mansion up in the hills who described James as working on his own time and in his own way and you can’t rush him; all you can do is know that it will be glorious when he’s done. Glorious is a direct quote.

During a slow patch for him, I tried to hire him to come copper-spray my peaches against leaf curl disease.

I thought of him this morning as I did that task myself.

I walked into the church this afternoon; I’d met his mom, but surely this was his sister next to her. It was.

While their mom was talking to someone else, I told his sister–who made sure afterwards that Mom heard it, too–that James had refused to allow me to pay him that day when he was done. Said it was his gift to G_d today, that he likes to pick someone to just serve the Lord to and that was that.

Knowing his strong faith, I said, But the Bible says wo to those who oppress the hireling in their wages!

Didn’t budge him. He had done it for love. Always would. Please let him know next year when to come. (I confess I did not. I like to pay people for their work.)

And so I had knit him a soft wool blue cabled hat in thanks. James gasped at it: “I will treasure it the rest of my life!”

His sister said, “Oh, THAT’s where…” and trailed off. She’d wondered…

I did not dare ask how rare it was for her late brother to own and to keep something nice.

I keep thinking I’m getting close to finishing this baby afghan and I keep thinking, no, at least 10″ more: Colourmart’s swatch showed a 3.9″ tall swatch shrinking to 3″ in the wash. I have to knit that extra length that’s not going to be there.

It will fluff and puff out into exquisite softness.

Here, let me go finish my 2″ quota for the day. Meantime, I love my front walkway this time of year and the first peach tree out back is about to burst into pink all over.

(Are the tops of my photos getting cut off for you these days? Or just over here? It’s not been letting me fix them.)

The eye is pleased with things in odd numbers, when the number of things is low enough to be able to tell. So, three trees, right?

There will be four members of that family when this goes to its recipients. One tree for each of them, because you don’t want to leave anybody out.

I wrestled with those conflicting ideas; each redwood is up the hill from the one before so I’ve had time to stare and study and decide. But in the end, that baby won: he is getting his own. (Starting in a couple more rows.)

They are all done gansey style rather than in a lace pattern that would present more obviously because yes I have yarn overs where the waves lap the shore below, but where the blanket will be covering the baby up while he’s very little? Let’s keep that a solid fabric. For warmth. For at least partially avoiding little fingers yanking on the holes. And because I’m the knitter and I said so.  

There have been two visiting nurses since last summer (plus two substitutes we never saw again) making sure Richard’s bone infection in his foot doesn’t get worse.

The one who comes most often got a hat last week.

The other, the head honcho, comes much less frequently so I was delighted today when it was her. She’s the one who read one of his doctors the riot act over the phone from our kitchen when he was refusing to acknowledge that the infection was still there and still needing to be treated–when in fact it was spreading.

Got that tamped back down just in time. Let’s not do the sepsis thing, okay?

While she worked, I was in the other room going through the the finished-hat stash, wondering why I hadn’t run in the ends on that blue one, and so that got done.

But the one in the Indiecita colorway: that was the one. I was so sure of it. I moved it to the top of the stack and then admired all those pretty colors in the sunlight, both the brights and the quiets in those hats, before getting back to the afghan at hand.

She finished up and the front door opened.

Wait! I ran to her. Teal Feather, Blue Jean, Volcan, Piedras, and the Indiecita, I held them out: Pick a color.

Oh there was no question that one on top it’s gorgeous! She laughed for surprise and joy and put it on her head and gave me a hug and about skipped down the walkway, so happy! She got to have something I made! She got to have colors she loved! It’s so soft and warm!

I tell you: she’d earned that. She had so much earned that.

So, if you’re thinking about the shape of Half Moon Bay, our local coastline, and you take a classic feather and fan and stretch it out a bit and then run an outward-purl row immediately after the yarn overs so it looks like the crests of incoming waves and the closer to shore you take it the closer together those two rows come to the next set of two, while dropping one repeat to the right every eighteen rows, turning those into plain stitches (which I just did again, hidden under that needle)…

…and you graph out a starfish in purl stitches…

…and it comes out looking more like a lobster but what the heck…

…Then it turns out that, as usual for me, the more I get done the faster it goes because it’s actually starting to BE something.

The mill-end yarn (50/50 cash/cot) is not pre-washed. It’s going to bloom and look a lot softer and denser.

You might even be able to see that there’s a starfish down there near the corner.

There was going to be a Barbara Walker’s turtle, too, but it’s just too many rows to scale right in there.

There will probably be a redwood above. I’ve debated an apricot tree (they have one of mine) and even adding apricot colored apricots but you know baby fingers would put a lot of effort into trying to pull them off. So maybe. I have that color, I could. Or all just cream like it is. Got awhile before I have to decide.

I made myself take a good hard look at it. It wasn’t doing it for me, and spending more time on it was just going to make me avoid wasting more time on it in an endless loop of not getting it done. Out!

Doing that much had clarified what I didn’t want and what I did.

Thus the new baby afghan is 3″ long and I’m really happy with it this time. And just in time: next thing you know, I got a text.

There is another new baby on the way.

My father had an aunt who married late and had time for one pregnancy and got identical twins whom I still couldn’t tell apart when they were in their 80’s, but in this case it will just be the one. Long longed for and at long last, and she’ll have the best parents one could possibly hope for. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am for them.

I had an OB years ago who had a poster in his office with a caption that read, A baby is G_d’s opinion that the world should go on.

He’s somehow three now. He needed to show me his dinosaur.

I told him, Look! It has a great big smile just like you do!

It’s put your bins at the curb night and I had stepped outside to throw one last thing in there when, it turned out, daddy and toddler were out taking a meander.

So now I know that the baby on the way is a boy. Since I haven’t gone very far with the plain generic white yet, let me think whether that changes anything.

Our daughter’s flying home tonight. She picked up a bug on the incoming and spent the week wearing a mask to avoid infecting us and a lot of time asleep, but started to pick up again yesterday.

The baby blanket is at long last done and I found the yarn in the stash that I think the next one will probably be made out of. Let me do some more sketches first. Starfish in gansey stitches, what other tidal creatures would work with that idea.

The doctor that the nurse took that hat to on Wednesday?

Fastest thank you note ever. Turns out his mom was a knitter. “She used to make me socks,” and he told me how much he loved his new beanie and that it was hand knit.

Used to.

There was so much love and loss wrapped up in those few words and my heart went out to him. I am so glad he got that hat.

Eight more rows of seed stitch to go.

It was past time to decide what the next baby blanket is going to be because there’s another baby due about the same time and I need to get to it.

When you can make anything at all, how do you narrow it down to a single idea?

(Say the obvious all together with me now: Ravelry!)

Under Patterns, search: baby blanket.

Fifteen thousand six hundred fifteen matches.

I got through fifty pages of results, and I definitely got some inspiration and no I still don’t know what I’m going to make, but it left me wanting to ask–waving a sweeping arm out there–why? Why was there an elephant pattern on just about every page for the first thirty or so, till they finally started to peter out? Two rhinos, one giraffe, (hey, giraffes are a big thing with babies too!) and elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant.

Scroll…scroll… You know you’re getting into the category of only one or two people besides the artist have actually made this one when the raccoons start showing up. (Nods to self, Bought that one awhile ago, maybe I finally will.)

I mean, I get the metaphor: babies are tiny yet before you can begin to comprehend it they’re all grown up and probably towering over you, and certainly over their original sizes. Yes babies and elephant motifs are a longstanding thing.

But I’d be an a** not to consider how it might be interpreted in today’s political climate.

I look forward to the day when things can be normal again and a cute baby blanket is just a cute baby blanket and can comfortably look like anything it wants.

Yesterday. Doctor appointment. Routine stuff. Done. We took a brief moment and caught up a little on each other’s kids; he told me with a worried sigh that one son had been laid off from his tech job right before Christmas. He has little kids….

I’m so sorry.

He appreciated that. Then said, Oh well. Back to work, and headed out the door.

I picked up my purse to leave–and thought, WAIT!

Already out of sight.

I stood in the hallway unsure of myself or what to do.

A nurse leaned her head out from around the corner, maybe at the sound of the exam room door closing behind me? And briskly walked over to see what she could do to help.

I pulled out the 1×1 ribbed beanie in Rios merino and told her I’d forgotten to give it to Dr. H and could she for me?

Her face totally lit up. YES! Of course! But as I was turning to go she exclaimed, Wait! What name do I give him??

(Oh. Yeah. Right. It’s knitted and he knows which patient always has needles going, but okay) so I told her, and off she happily went to go play a late Santa’s elf on a day when I knew and she probably did too that that very good man could definitely use that.

No water coming out of the air intake at the top of the sink? It’s the dishwasher, not the pipes.

Got that scheduled.

Off to the clinic, where I told the nurse dilating my eyes, My calendar says Dr M followed by a quick check by Dr. R but only Dr M shows on my online appointments and I did see R a few weeks ago when there was a problem. Will I be seeing both?

Oh yes, she assured me, we always have you see one and then briefly the other when you’ve had the two surgeries done in tandem like that.

Dr. M came in, was pleased with my progress, went to go and I confessed to having knit each of them a hat. And that I’d then kept on going, so, choose a color?

There were five (there was also a dark blue), with a sixth color on the needles.

He loved the dark green stripes. He was thrilled.

That was fun. So I waited for his colleague to come in.

And waited. And knitted. And waited. Eight rows.

A different nurse came in, flustered, not sure how I would take the awkward news that I’d wasted my time and saying, You don’t have an appointment with Dr. R. He’s seeing you in March!

That’s fine, I assured her. I explained about having confirmed with the original nurse but it’s no big deal–just, could I ask her one favor?

?

Could you take these to Dr. R and ask him to pick one? (I figured she could interrupt him at a more knowingly timely moment than I could.) Meantime I would go to the waiting room to get out of the way.

That instantly changed everything, and when she came back to me she was radiant.

I would have sent her off with one, too, but I was afraid of a contrast between that and the unknown nurse who’d given me understandable but wrong information that perhaps had tied up their room, and I let the thought go. Didn’t know her name, didn’t want to take the other one’s time chasing people down again.

Still wondering whether I got that right.

But she was already showing me that making him happy had made her happy. She made it be enough.

(Mark my calendar. March. Two nurses. Maybe more. Be ready.)

It will all flatten and spread out the moment water touches it, but I love how fern lace mimics honeycomb cabling while you’re knitting it, and I miss that once it’s gone. Yarn is Malabrigo Rios in Libra colorway.

Little goals that push the progress along: I want to split-splice the third skein on before I have to haul this to the retina surgeon’s waiting room tomorrow. Got less than an hour left on this one.

After all the intarsia, man, monocolor knitting goes so much faster!