I See You

She's quite something, this city of ours.  These were taken from atop the Art Gallery of Ontario, where I went Friday to see Abstract Expressionist New York for the second time.  (Go. Go today! Do not miss this show.) Isn't it remarkable what getting five high floors above an area one walks through frequently can do for one's perspective?  After more than 20 years Toronto still has the ability to surprise me.

The view from the bottom.

Vintage Sass

I really like this little top.  It's from the 1942 Complete Guide to Knitting and Crocheting.  What I like in particular is the way the cables stop so abruptly and at different heights, creating such visual interest.  Also the picot edge on the sleeves is just adorable.
I'm kicking around the idea of giving this pattern a go.  My major concern is whether or not I'd get much wear out of it.  Cute as they are, short sleeve cardis can be terribly impractical - too hot in summer and not enough coverage in winter.  One could make the sleeves long but I feel somehow that would alter too greatly the original intent of the garment. Make it less sassy.
So.  Very.  Cute.
I've some mulling to do.  

New Lace

What a beautiful pattern by Linda Choo.  I had a bit of trouble getting through the border but that's likely due to the fact that I was deadline knitting.  This is gift for The Daughter's dance teacher and has to be given tomorrow, before school ends and exams begin. I don't deal well with that kind of pressure, however self-imposed
When asked why I wanted to knit something for the dance teacher, I had three reasons. First, it's been a great year.  This spring's showcase was Fantastic.  Second, I've seen her wearing this colour before so I already know she likes it.  And third?  I have to start knitting things for other people.  My stash is huge and I really can only wear so many shawls myself.

The Rental Garden

Slowly over the past three summers, I've been converting my landlord's garden into a slightly more wild, definitely more perennial affair.  I buy a bit here, transplant a bit there.  He's happy not to have to deal with it.  Frankly, judging by the recently observed lack of enthusiasm, I think he and his wife were starting to resent the expense and trouble of planting all those geraniums year after year.

The poppies are almost at the end of their glory.  I wish I had photographed them earlier.  They don't last long and look like hell when they're done. but their peak is spectacular.
Then there's the ratty little foxglove I bought from the variety store for a dollar.  It was droopy and sad all last year in the shade garden... but this year!  It's threatening to become the plant that ate Manhattan.  It has three flower heads and is huge already.  It may need to be transplanted later as it's dwarfing and shading everything around it.  It needs to move back about a foot.  But not now.  First, let's see what it can do.

Reunion

Last weekend was the 25th reunion of my University musical theatre cabaret group.  From all parts of North America, middle aged singers, musicians and comedy writers, along with their families, travelled to descend upon a quiet college town.  It was a remarkable gathering in so many ways, the most surprising of which was how comfortable it all was.  Everyone was so kind and genuinely happy to be there.  Hugs were sincere and the music and laughter was filled with love - to such a degree that the bartender of the evening portion of the festivities told me he hated to see us leave.  Highlights for me?

• My old house mate and I, who've not seen each other in twenty years,  picking up where we left off gabbing away without pause.  Even accompanying each other to the ladies room just like the old days. 
• Visiting two favourite shops and finding them still there, with the same owners!
• Seeing all the beautiful children my friends have brought into this world at our afternoon softball game.
• A former beau sweetly holding my hand when I needed it.  Ya, I'm kind of swooning and regretting letting that one get away.
• Sharing toasts and stories to honour departed friends.

Whenever I visit my alma mater, I always take a familiar walk.  Call it a roots thing.  We begin on the corner in front of the house where I lived for three tumultuous, happy, tragic, crazy  years.

Head south for just a few minutes and we're at the building that used to be university/hospital affiliated doctor's offices.  My doctor had his office here, an office in which I spent many hours learning the skills needed to get through a day.  He was patient and generous.  I credit him with my graduating and miss him still.

Further south on the same sidewalk and we arrive at the hospital.  Yes, I spent a fair bit of time here as well receiving excellent care.  This was before the days when they turfed you out at the earliest opportunity.  I spent a good long while resting and healing and looking out that fourth floor window to... 

 ...this part of the lake.  Of course it was winter then so it looked a little different.  In the summer, I'd walk down here at night and wade when it was too hot to sleep.  I stood here last Saturday and felt that no time had passed at all.  I'm so vastly different than I was back then yet still so much the same.  I  return to the water.  I live near a different part of that same lake today and walk or ride down there often.  It brings me peace.