Manka's Annual Wool Lover's Retreat. Inverness, California

Inverness was beautiful in a way that's hard to describe.

There was fog and bright sun and camaraderie and quiet and joy and memory and exquisite food and meals eaten excitedly,      and fireplace warmth and challenges and learning and laughter and         dark dark nights
                and tears and warm gingerbread straight from the oven

and menu poems were read and eaten  and thousands of stitches knit             and stories of the dead and stripes and wondrous textures and early mornings
                    and feelings of difference and pained smiles and shocking white hair and stories of menopause and bodies studied in numbers and patterns            and feminism turned on its head and re-configured

            and epiphanies had and friendships started and bonds renewed

and                   hungers satiated and fresh juices poured and Meyer lemons were celebrated and dozens of crabs cracked        and books signed and knits cut and sweaters altered and hats created and

                    hints shared

and photos taken and walks hiked and woodpeckers spotted and fierce spring blossoms exploded and creeks flowing and tides ebbing and details tended to and mothers mothering and sisters visiting

and my mother was remembered,
        and knitters celebrating and needles moving and yarn spinning and adventures stolen,
and moments captured and whispering and shouting and clapping and sweating and my caramels shared

and stars noticed and quiet nights and nightmares and cream poured on mightily at breakfast  and
            children were absent but storied and

gossip was shared in hushed tones and textures petted generously               and encouragement encouraged and culinary questions answered and mistakes made and waterlight changed

                    and seals slept and cows crossed the road slowly and fresh eggs poached and        chocolate ganache was served on a silver teaspoon with a sprinkle of salt

  and steep inclines were driven and driving prayers were audible and cooks coped and homes opened             and plates balanced on knees and walks to the sea at dusk were brisk and

            gumbo simmered and local asparagus was barely cooked and dipped with hungry fingers into lemony pots of hollandaise and mouths came and minds were expanded and boats slipped into bays and individuals were noticed & celebrated,

and it was so extraordinary no amount of ands will cover those hours.

Comments

[Knitguy (aka. Adam)]

Oh my gosh I wish I could have been there. One of these days, after college I suppose, I need to get myself out to a knitting and spinning retreat. Perhaps what really needs to happen is a knitting/spinning and food retreat...