Knitting

Armchair Travels

July 13, 2026 annbh356Leave a comment

Spanish windmills along a hilltop with vibrant blue sky

And I am off (virtually) to the Iberian Peninsula to I explore Spain and Portugal with The Wooly Thistle Armchair Travels. Without needing a passport, enduring cramped overseas flights, or wondering if US Customs will allow this liberal Midwesterner re-entry to the USA, I will traverse hillsides with Merino and Manchega sheep flocks and their shepherds, visit woolen mills, and learn about designs, techniques, and fiber traditions unique to that corner of the globe. Barcelona has long been on my bucket list, so this blends nicely despite my lack of Spanish or Portuguese.

This virtual learning experience is a continuing adaptation that began with the pandemic and Richard’s Parkinson’s Disease diagnosis. While my initial retirement plans had included an annual international knitting tour, the 2020 Copenhagen & Faroe Islands tour and Rowan Tree Travel and Fibercraft’s Wool & Whisky in 2021 were canceled due to the worldwide lockdown. Instead, I discovered online alternatives – from the Strickmich Club with Martina Behm whose shop is in Damsdorf, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany to French knitting designer, Solène Le Roux, whom I worked with when she lived in Paris and followed her move to creating a retreat center at the Château de Parançay in southwest France.

For five years, 2020-2024, I participated in Knit Camp at the Coast with Marie Greene and enjoyed the Pacific Northwest from the comfort of Minnesota. Her Zoom-based retreat offered technical instructions, theme related recipes, knitting accessories, and (of course) yarn. I missed 2025 while we were in the midst of our move from First Street to Solstice Place but I am looking forward to a re-envisioned Knit Camp experience this August.

What started in 2009 as a spiritual support project knitting prayer shawls, has evolved into daily practice with a wealth of learning experiences, camaraderie with fellow knitters, and even travel without leaving home. As I continue exploring knitting with my fellow Knit Campers and now joining New Hampshire’s The Wooly Thistle Armchair Travels, I hope to keep my fingers nimble and my neuro-pathways flexible.

¡Bienvenidos! Bem-vindos!

Photo credit: The Wooly Thistle

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | June 2026

June 18, 2026June 19, 2026 annbh356Leave a comment

pride rainbow colors roughly painted on canvas

Just in time for Pride month and perfect for a Third Thursday Gathering of Poetry, poet Danielle Coffyn shares a delightful short verse encouraging tolerance, acceptance and, yes, pride.

Why Pride?
Because somewhere
a child is a heron
in a sea of salmon
who encourage them
to convert wings 
into fins.

Fish cannot teach
a bird to take flight.
So every June we flock 
to the heavens
to remind them the sky
was never a sin.

Credits:
Poem: Why Pride © Danielle Coffyn
Graphic:  pexel - Steve A Johnson
Third Thursday blog posters: Kat at As Kat Knits, Bonnie at Highly Reasonable, and Kym at Dancing at the Edge

Baking

Summer Delights

June 4, 2026June 4, 2026 annbh3561 Comment

Three scones on a blue plate and a measuring cup with chopped rhubarb

Just as summer arrived meteorologically on June 1st, so too did a small supply of rhubarb from Momma’s garden. Friends from Eau Claire brought her to Rochester for a lunchtime visit. While I provided the picnic-like staples of chicken salad and pink lemonade and Momma provided a scrumptious rhubarb dessert, as well as extra stalks for baking scones. With this summer staple for our breakfast table and a batch of sauce as an extra sweet treat, I am rhubarb content (for now) with plans to raid Momma’s patch when I visit next week. Yumm!

New House

The Joys of Home Improvement: An Irrigation System

May 30, 2026 annbh356Leave a comment

blue sprinkler head spraying water on green grass; pexel photo by Jonathan Cordova R

When I hear the word “irrigation” I think of the millions of gallons of water diverted from the Colorado River for agricultural purposes. Those dramatic aerial photographs showing former waterlines etched high on rocky canyon walls versus today’s receded shores which expose miles of marina docks stretching into Lake Mead but landlocked, no longer accessible by water. Or the reduced water levels of Lake Powell, visible even to our untrained eyes, as Richard and I explored the National Parks of southern Utah – Zion, Bryce, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, and Arches, as well as a favorite small gem, Goblin Valley State Park.

My definition of irrigation involved thousands of acres of farmland and, until now, was not a small sprinkler system for our 5,532 square foot lot, of which 2,484 square feet is covered with house, screened porch, and garage. But the installation of an irrigation system is our latest home improvement project, as a lawn care crew of six workers trenched our boulevard, front and two side lawns. By the end of their workday, we had three irrigation zones (green, blue and pink) with water sprouting in precise directions from 20 heads covering lawn and landscaping.

An in-ground system was not part of our original building plans as I thought that with such a small lot I could manage the watering. However, it is specifically because of the narrow strips of land, 102 feet long north to south and only 5 feet wide on each side of the house, that watering became an all-day job – set the sprinkler, adjust the spray, get wet, and repeat – time and again all day long every few days. And that was in the coolish days of autumn. I did not relish the prospect of dragging hoses through a long hot draught-like summer knowing what it might take to maintain a reasonably respectable lawn as required by Harvestview HOA guidelines.

And then, what was expected to be a simple job became more complicated. Despite the front yard boasting a riotous collection of colored flags showing gas, electrical, cable, and fiber lines, Richard and I were connected to the Internet one moment and, in a snip of the black cable with a shovel, we were no longer linked to the greater world. In the overall scheme of our lives, the loss of T-Mobile connectivity for approximately 24 hours was a minor, first-world problem. The posting of this blog post, written in real time as work progressed, was delayed as the Knit+ Librarian exists in the cloud but that access was lost yesterday afternoon. We joked that the greater challenge would be selecting our evening’s activities since our TV is ethernet based and therefore it was offline as well. Nearly like the olden days.

T-Mobile arrived when expected this morning and re-established service. Although the fiber optic cable is resting above ground and will be trenched into place next week. We can only hope that the planting of the cable for internet connectivity does not interfere with the new irrigation system. Or we could enter a Twilight Zone of never-ending interruptions in service.

Photo credit: Pexel, Jonathan Cόrdova R.

New House

We had an adventure. . .

May 24, 2026May 25, 2026 annbh3561 Comment

concrete mile post reading M137 nestled in green undergrowth

When Richard shared that he was researching wheelchairs my immediate response was “No”. My reaction was visceral. Rooted in denial as I simply could not allow the insidious nature of Parkinson’s Disease any more space in our lives. In that moment, the walls shifted inward. I saw his world – our world shrinking even more. While we always knew a chair would eventually be needed (I had even designed the new bathroom with a sufficient turning radius for easy rolling access to the walk-in shower) I had equated a wheelchair with a loss of mobility.

Richard patiently waited for my reactions to simmer and my list of objections to dwindle. Then, he explained how he viewed this purchase as expansive as it would allow him greater distance, not less. Recent walks in our new neighborhood have been limited to 1-2 blocks. Even using his Ferrari-red carbon fiber walker for support, he is constrained by that day’s stamina and knowing we can only walk as far as the same return distance.

His primary research parameter was a 30-pound weight limit with a lithium battery. A limit set because I can easily lift the 10-pound, 2-ounce walker and struggle with the 40-pound bag of salt for the water softener. Coming in at 27-pounds, the Jazzy Carbon 27X is only slightly unwieldy when lifted into the rear of the Audi Q5 but certainly manageable.

And so, this morning, with clear blue skies (not even a puff of white) we set off. Out the screened porch door, down the alley to the street corner curbcuts, pass the pickleball courts to the asphalt spur that connects the Harvestview neighborhood to the Douglas Trail. This reclaimed railroad bed is framed on either side by forest vegetation – trees, flowers, and fruit bearing shrubs; with a haze of green growth sprouting in the gentle rolling fields just beyond. For nearly an hour, we enjoyed the sun dappled shade, under arching tree boughs.

We had an adventure. . .

Gardening · New House · Writing

Missing Rhubarb

May 16, 2026 annbh3561 Comment

terra cotta pots with herbs sitting on concrete patio

It is curious what you miss after a life change. A year ago today, a blog post announced the hole in the ground at Solstice Place. And, in the days and months that followed, we focused on choices – which granite slab would best anchor our kitchen, the paint color for the walls (Sherman Williams Zurich White), and the location of extra grab bars to safely grow old in place.

Among our many decisions, I deliberated about transplanting three key garden features from the First Street house. The four blueberry bushes – gifts from Momma; the chives – inherited with the house; and the rhubarb – from Grandma’s Vine Street garden transplanted to Rochester via my childhood house on Fourteenth Street. But in the end, timing simply didn’t comply. Too many other tasks demanded our focus as we decluttered for rightsizing, packed, and moved. Plus, there were just too many unknowns with a “little house on the prairie” (our one lone boulevard tree would not be planted until weeks after moving in.) Add to that, the vagaries of first-time membership in a Homeowners’ Association and thoughts of future gardens was remote.

And so, my Grandmother’s rhubarb (that is no longer mine) grows vibrant green on the south side of the new owner’s garage and not at Solstice Place. Rationally, I knew when we moved that I could easily source rhubarb from friends or through a visit to the farmers’ market. But a month into Spring and I haven’t done either. It was so much easier to walk out the door and simply twist and pull the needed stalks. Then finally last week, before returning from birthday celebrations at Momma’s, I harvested a small quantity of the tart vegetable from her garden. But rather than immediately gather flour and eggs and set to baking, I curiously treated them like stashed treasure vacillating between scones and crisp, with the crisp winning the baking challenge.

Even without these garden mainstays, I have been “playing in the dirt” at our new location. I planted the first four of what may be a proliferation of pots with companion pairings – Early Girl Tomato with purple basil, a combo of oregano, rosemary, and English thyme in another along with dill paired with parsley in a third, and then a pot filled with just sweet basil as you can never have too much of this fragrant culinary herb. Yet to come, this weekend, I will be filling the blue ceramic pots with bursts of color to set against the indigo backdrop of the front porch. I am still debating which perennials will best suit our two compact north facing front beds, currently landscaped with river rock and hosting one lone Hosta, three small grass mounds, and a hydrangea of yet unknown color.

All the while missing rhubarb.

Reading

NLW 2026

April 19, 2026April 8, 2026 annbh356Leave a comment

colorful graphic with people walking to the library

National Library Week – an annual event since 1958 when librarians, trustees, library users, and even politicians celebrate the varied roles libraries play in individual lives and communities. As a lover of libraries, I wonder why just one week, only seven days. Why not an entire month dedicated to acknowledging libraries spark creativity, nurture young minds with storytimes, serve as community centers, and provide free access to books, media, and digital resources? Whether a day or seven or more, there is JOY to be found at the library.

Writing

The Sunday Letter Writing Project

April 18, 2026 annbh3562 Comments

I am pondering whether to commit to The Sunday Letter Project. There is the lure of possibility in making a pledge to faraway shopkeepers in England; to write one letter each Sunday, in what they describe as “an act of reflection, connection and calm.”

I learned about this project, which includes nearly 12,000 participants from around world, in the Yarnology eNews. Gaby, one of the Winona store owners, has personally made the pledge. And, she has gone all in as the local yarn store now offers a whimsical selection of cards and stickers, as well as encouragement to yarn store customers (like me) to take the pledge.

I suspect the impetus for The Sunday Letter Project may have germinated (at least partially) as a marketing approach when the owners of the Wildflower Inspiration Co. moved their stationary business from the kitchen table to a brick-and-mortar store in Cheltenham, England. But they also describe how the concept emerged from numerous discussions with customers commenting on the lost art of letter writing. How, in an age when email is considered old fashion and texts are thumbed rapidly, with partial thoughts, generic emojis, misspelled words, and impractical or nonexistent punctuation, writing a letter conveys friendship and connection. Their website states: “We started Wildflower Illustration Co. in 2015 because we believe in the power of a handwritten note to brighten someone’s day or capture a shared memory.”

But I am still in the thinking stage. The lack of readily available supplies does not explain my hesitation. I cannot use the excuse that before beginning I would need to go shopping for stationery and stamps. I have two desk drawers full of an artistic selection of blank notecards and an unusually large supply of discounted postage purchased from Forever Stamps. No, my hesitation comes from wondering if I would have enough to say in a weekly letter without defaulting to Minnesota weather reports or having the letter read like bulleted task list.

Within my family there are motivational examples to spur on my letter writing efforts and encourage me to set aside any worries that inspiration might fall short. Nearly every week, Momma writes to her two sisters, and my aunts respond regularly with their family news. Their routine began in the 1940s when Momma went to Washington, DC as a “war girl.” Unlike their correspondence, with letters regularly going back and forth over eight decades, I would not expect the recipients of a Sunday letter to respond in kind. Rather, a letter would say – I am thinking of you. An opportunity to re-connect. A simple act of possibility.

I know the excitement of finding a “real” letter with the turn of the mailbox key, not a catalog, or an appeal for money, or an advertisement. Just days ago, I received a beautiful, 5×7 inch card written on two sides offering appreciation for a short sympathy note. That this individual, amid her deep sorrow from losing her father, would sit down and write not the obligatory funeral home card with just the name of the deceased, but an entire letter was humbling. And inspirational. To think that by taking the pledge to participate in The Sunday Letter Writing Project that I might slow down and find balance or brighten someone else’s day is indeed an act of possibility. Maybe it is time to join 11, 575 other Sunday letter writers in the possibility of connection.

Graphics: The Wildflower Illustration Co. and The Sunday Letter Writing Project, Cheltenham, England.

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | April 2026

April 16, 2026April 9, 2026 annbh356Leave a comment

daguerreotype of Emily Dickinson in 1847 in a maroon velvet case and gold mat; photo from Amherst College Archives & Special Collections

While libraries certainly offer far more than books – from pre-school storytimes to adult literacy classes, from online job searches to homework help – the selection of fiction and non-fiction titles arranged precisely shelf after shelf is still a primary function. In honor of National Library Week (just days away) here are words by Emily Dickinson, one of America’s best-known poets, and her thoughts about books. Happy to join Bonnie, Kat, Kym, and others for this third Thursday, Gathering of Poetry.

There is no Frigate like a Book by Emily Dickinson

There is not Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul –

Bibliographic credit: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)

Photographic credit: Daguerreotype of Emily Dickinson in 1847 courtesy of Amherst College Archives & Special Collections

Writing

Paying Attention

March 21, 2026 annbh356Leave a comment

There is a story in my family about how, in the months leading up to Christmas 1962, my mother hid even the waste threads snipped after sewing the seams of an outfit she was making for me. This was because I was such a nosy child, although I might say exceptionally curious or extremely attentive.

Earlier that fall, she had sewn a blue and white checked cape (reminiscent of scenes from The Sound of Music) for my best friend, Melinda. That I already had a matching cape, did not sooth my desire for another something new. And, with Christmas lists growing, I felt sure that my wardrobe had been forgotten. As it happened, Momma only worked on my surprise gift when curious eyes were not around – during the school day and after bedtime. Then, she would carefully put everything away, not even leaving the bobbin in the bobbin case of the sewing machine for fear that I might notice her using a different color thread and ask what she was making. Her clandestine approach to that sewing project did give me a Christmas surprise.

Over the years, I have found practical applications for my attention to detail without sliding precariously into OCD obsessions. From my days as a library page shelf-reading and putting books back in Dewey order to participating in library funding formula discussions, the outcome of which eventually become library legislation.

While paying attention is a useful skill when building a house or planning a new church, there can be downsides. At the beginning of this second-time-around administration, I had planned to stay better informed by increasing the number of news sources and journalists I read or viewed each day. And while I did this in January, I was quickly overwhelmed. I found my logical brain simply could not manage the overt inconsistencies from day-to-day; contradictory statements or actions that sometimes occurred only hours apart or even spoken within the same paragraph. By mid-February, I was relying solely on Stephen Colbert’s nightly monologue and The Late Show political guests for my news. Obviously not a practical approach when striving to be an informed voter, and my news-junky to comedy-only approach to current events needed modification. As I shared in an early February blog post, “Red Hat Resilience” I now limit my news gathering and then balance the harshness of that day’s events with reading poetry.

Paying attention also has advantages like realizing after just one row of the sweater I am knitting (283 stitches wide) that I had been so attentive to the storyline of The Brokenwood Mysteries episode we were watching that I knitted the same wrong side row twice. While not easily visible on my needles, this error would definitely have revealed an ugly break in the featured lace and cable design of the finished garment. Today’s task – TINK (that is – knit backwards) the incorrect row and probably not while watching Acorn TV.

There are days when I prefer not to pay attention to the “real world.” When I adjust the banded shades to allow in daylight but, still drawn, create a cocoon. When the only activity I want to undertake is knitting. Or knitting and baking. Or knitting, baking, and reading. When I am tempted to let every phone call (other than Momma’s number) go to voicemail. And I admit there are days when I ignore my Gmail inbox. But that always has unwanted consequences as I still need to read a flood of building correspondence about window placement, or the preferred number of stoves and refrigerators in the church kitchen, or the weight of 98-solar panels on the west roof.

And so, the challenge continues. Just as yesterday’s vernal equinox provided celestial balance with equal hours of day and night, I will continue to strive for equilibrium – between staying informed about the harsh realities of US politics and our sedate day-to-day life on Solstice Place.