Green Pear Tree in September
By Freya Manfred
On a hill overlooking the Rock River
my father’s pear tree shimmers,
in perfect peace,
covered with hundreds of ripe pears
with pert tops, plump bottoms,
and long curved leaves.
Until the green-haloed tree
rose up and sang hello,
I had forgotten. . .
He planted it twelve years ago,
when he was seventy-three,
so that in September
he could stroll down
with the sound of the crickets
rising and falling around him,
and stand, naked to the waist,
slightly bent, sucking juice
from a ripe pear.
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| "Robin Red Breast" Gotland 2-ply |
August is gone and I don't really know where it went. That tends to happen in August. Now it's September and I'm back at school, beginning my 29th year as a children's librarian.
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| "Field of Dreams" shetland 3-ply |
This summer I spun more yarn than I ever have in such a short period. Now that work intrudes, the wheel sits more than it spins, but that's okay - a significant dent was made in the fiber stash.
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| "Big Bang" BFL 2-ply |
Very little knitting happening, since finishing the Elm socks a few weeks ago. I've started the 8th pair of socks for the year - just a vanilla pair but with most lovely Cherry Tree Hill sockweight merino. This knitting competes for attention with the Penelope Shrug I'm knitting from Quince and Company Finch in a deep charcoal gray. Usually I can find a few minutes during lunchtime at work, but the first few weeks of school are too busy to breathe, let alone knit.
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| "Northern Lights" Targhee - what I'm working on in early September |
