Few things soften a stressed heart like watching your beloved come up from the garden with something she’s picked just for you. Better than a bouquet of flowers, these are golden raspberries. They ripen at the very end of summer. They’re extremely tender and taste like honey, and they’re probably the most decadent thing we grow. They won’t keep. They’re intended to be savored the very second they ripen. For someone raised with the motto “when it’s gone, it’s gone,” these are a fine reminder that sometimes that’s the whole point.
This is the lake where I’ve been staying this week, teaching people what I’ve learned over the years about the process of writing your so-called story. Verlyn Klinkenborg describes the central purpose of writing as “to offer your testimony about the character of existence at this moment.” But here’s the crux: Before convincing the rest of the world that our testimony is worth listening to, we have to convince ourselves. Which is an ongoing process. This weekend I’ve seen the beginnings of some exquisite testimonies that I dearly hope will come to life. #futureauthorsofknitlandia #squamlove
Calling all knitters. Crocheters, too! This is your call to yarns.
Maine’s newest asylum-seekers are facing their first New England winter. Having fled their homes in the Congo and Angola and then traveled more than 10,000 miles, they didn’t exactly have time to stock up on warm winter woolens before they got here. This is where knitters and crocheters come in.
I realize that we all have urgent concerns vying for our time and resources right now. But if your needles are idle and this speaks to your heart, I invite you to join me. They need warm hats and mittens, especially for babies and children. You can send your knitted and crocheted masterpieces to:
Maine Access Immigrant Network
237 Oxford St., Suite 25A
Portland, ME 04101
