Crossroads

Dion's shawl is washed, blocked and set out to dry. It took two and a piece of a skein (about 330 yards) of Blue Sky Alpaca and silk. The knitting gauge was about 5 stitches per inch on stockinette, but I haven't measured the blocked shawl, except to know it's roughly 65 inches across at the top. Here are some photos of the completed shawl in various stages.


Unblocked.



Wet, and ready for blocking.


Blocked.



If this post seems less than my normal verbose self, you'd be right. There are a couple of reasons for that. The first is, I've had about 4 hours sleep in the last 36 hours. I'm beat. I got the shawl finished, washed, blocked out and completed at about 6 a.m. this morning, just about the time Nec was getting up to go to work.

The second reason for the more somber mood is nostalgia. While knitting madly on the shawl, I sat in our computer room and listened to playlists of songs I created ages ago. These are the tunes that keep me company while painting, sewing, or whatever creative process I might be involved with in our bonus room. While knitting along, "Melissa", by The Allman Brothers started playing. I couldn't help by be swamped with memories of a friend of mine, Ron, who died last October of cancer. Ron was a friend and a musician, and there are certain songs that remind me of him so strongly, at times I can't separate the original version of the song from the version Ron sang. Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride", Pure Prairie League's "Amie", and several others, including an unlikely but very endearing rendition of "Rainbow Connection", which Ron would segue into Drivin' and Cryin's "Straight to Hell". When Ron sang these songs, he lived them. You believed him while he sang. "Melissa" was also one of those songs, probably in no small part due to his wife being named Melissa as well.

I think I'm going to keep tweaking this shawl. I may even actually make a pattern for it. I plan to name it "Sweet Melissa".

Crossroads, seem to come and go, yeah.
The gypsy flies from coast to coast

Knowing many, loving none,
Bearing sorrow havin fun,
But back home he"ll always run
To sweet Melissa... mmm...

Freight train, each car looks the same, all the same.
And no one knows the gypsy's name
No one hears his lonely sigh,
There are no blankets where he lies.
In all his deepest dreams the gypsy flies
With sweet Melissa... mmm...

Again the mornings come,
Again he's on the run,
Sunbeams shining through his hair,
Appearing not to have a care.
Well, pick up your gear and gypsy roll on, roll on.

Crossroads, will you ever let him go? (lord, lord)
Will you hide the dead man's ghost,
Or will he lie, beneath the clay,
Or will his spirit roll away?

But I know that he won't stay without Melissa.

Yes I know that he won't stay without Melissa.