I never cease to be amazed whenever I hear from a far-flung knitter.
Knitting Her Way Through the Apocalypse
We can all envy at least one person stranded in Europe under the giant volcanic ash cloud: Leah. Leah is stuck in Stockholm, trying to get back to Ohio. I suggested that maybe this was actually kind of a good thing. I mean: I love Ohio and all, but Stuck in Stockholm sounds like a Meg Ryan movie to me. She writes that she has in fact made excellent progress in laying in a pile of Swedish yarn, which involved a trip to Marias Garn. (Sigh! Marias Garn! [Room swirls and harp music commences as overwhelming memories crash over me.])
Leah writes, “I am knitting now, and I think I have written my first pattern as well, for a big chunky cowl like all the hipsters here have on, since everything here was in Swedish. So yay, and thanks for the advice. We’re going to try to get to Oslo, then Frankfurt, then Detroit at the end of the week.” Vaya con yarn, Leah!
Tasmanian Weather Report
Then there’s Vicki, who wrote to say she was going to get a copy of the juicy novel I mentioned, Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall. At her library. In Tasmania.
TASMANIA! Now there’s a hemisphere I haven’t ever been to. [goes off to Google this] Google Maps says that by car it’s 16,040 miles, including two kayaking spells from Seattle to Hawaii (seriously–Google says to “kayak” across the Pacific, those wacky jokers), then Hawaii to Japan. I’m not sure this is the most direct route, frankly.
When I suggested to Vicki that Tasmania is, like, three days ahead of Nashville time, she calmly responded:
“It was actually very late Wednesday night and now its very late Thursday night – so we are ‘ahead’ but not quite as far ahead as you suggested. We are just finishing a very long warm summer, days still mild but the nights are chilling off. We actually have great knitting weather – warm enough in summer for Rowan denim cotton singlets (once you recover from the trauma of the top half not just fitting, letting it hibernate for a year before frogging and getting it right the second time) and cool enough for cosy winter jumpers – but without having to shovel snow.
“So I just googled Deep Bay (where we actually live, on the Huon River where seagulls have been acting strangely lately (see pic) to Nashville – for me it says its 26,048 km and it also had me going through parts of Tasmania I’ve never heard of and on tracks that I’m pretty sure are only meant for bushwalking not driving on, got the ferry across Bass Strait right to get to mainland Australia, and then also had me kayaking over the Pacific. Methinks Google has a sense of humour and/or a sense of adventure…”
She’s right: those seagulls are looking mighty peculiar out there. Thinking they’re ducks or something. Maybe the Icelandic volcano cloud has gotten to them.
And a Word from Iceland
Silja of Iceland writes:
“There are two big jokes here in Iceland at the moment:
1. The Brits asked Iceland to send them some cash, but as there is no C in the Icelandic alphabet we thought they meant ash.
2. It was the last wish of the newly dead economy of Iceland that its ashes would be spread all over Europe.”
Thanks for writing, y’all–keep those cards and letters coming.