Morning and Evening Gifts

This morning the sky gifted me with a sneak view of the moon between branches as I drove across the ridge on my way to work. It caught me by surprise. My mind was already thinking ahead about the work that had to be done this day, and also on the snow that is supposed to be heading our way. Wondering if the branch libraries had enough ice-melt materials on hand, if we needed to send new gloves to them. Thinking about the elevator project, the book sale meeting, the staff training and security issues on my desk.

Then there was the moon, cradled in the branches of the old trees on the place we call the high knob. I smiled and continued over the knob, then stopped. And backed up. Dug out my camera and stepped outside the car to take a few shots.

And smiled all the way to work. Instead of NPR, I listened to a CD of Celtic women singers. When I arrived at work, the things waiting for decisions and actions did not seem so worrying after all. A gift so unexpected from the sky changed the day for me.

Driving home this evening I listened to the CD again, and thought about the snow that may be coming our way tonight. At the house, Larry had dinner on the table, the fire glowing in the fireplace, and my favorite Cabernet poured.

I settled by the fire and picked up my evening gift--lovely handspun wool given to me by a good friend who is trying to teach me to knit. I have completed a several rows and inexplicably have more stitches on the needles than when I started, but I am not worried. My friend will sort me out again, just as she did last night. Even if it means pulling out a few rows.

As a child I learned to knit from my mother, who was seldom seen without her needles in her hands, working on a project that was usually something for a baby. I knit scarves, long flowing scarves. Once I attempted a sweater but it ended up in my mother's basket of projects to be taken apart and the yarn re-used, I think. Later, in my 20's, I learned to crochet and went at it like a madwoman. I crocheted so much in one month that I developed inflamed thumbs that would not bend for months afterward. I never attempted needlework again.

So now I am on my third attempt, and we'll see how it goes. I find it restful (when I don't drop stitches) and the wool feels comforting in my hands. Perhaps I might actually learn to knit this time.

Tonight, the landline phone isn't working. The cell doesn't work at the house either; I had to drive up on the ridge to call my youngest son. As I sat in my car in the dark, I saw odd flashing lights in the sky.

Fireworks!

On a cold Wednesday night in January, someone is celebrating something with fireworks at a remote ridgetop home. A birthday, or maybe an anniversary?

Few will see the lights, and somehow that makes them even more exotic.

Today has been an unusual day, with unusual gifts tucked into its corners.