It happens every year: fall weather hits like a ton of bricks. Just a couple weeks ago we were playing outside all day in the sand and the sunshine, and now all of a sudden we're donning flannel PJs and closing the windows at night to keep the cold air at bay. Our pool is still open for another week, but no one could go swimming unless they wanted hypothermia.
For the second fall in a row, the start of school means practically nothing to me, save a few dull pangs of nostalgia. If I were still a childless grad student, I'd be spending my afternoons on the lakeside terrace at Memorial Union, reading obscure articles, watching the sailboats, gearing up for a semester of recitals and seminars, and perhaps enjoying a brew with Stuart and other friends. I would still be excited (rather than overwhelmed - that comes later) about the pile of music to learn and singers to meet and recitals to prepare.
Now, of course, life is much different. That's not a bad thing. I sometimes miss the hustle and bustle of university life: the cacophony of a hallway full of practice rooms, the daily conversations with people who totally understand why I get stoked about things like piano trios and German lieder, the dusty library full of old books and music scores, the fresh faces of new students and the comfortable familiarity of returning ones...but then I certainly don't miss the constant belittlement and criticism (constructive or otherwise) of being a music student, either. My cousin-in-law says nostalgia is a disease anyway.
This weekend has been unusually cool and crisp, autumn coming a few weeks early and catching me by surprise, like it always does. Hence the nostalgia. Hence, also, a sudden desire to cast on everything under the sun, as long as it's made with wool. Right now I've got a new hat and sweater on the needles (just ribbing, nothing to look at), and this week I made Daniel some socks:
They even fit!
The fact that they fit now means they probably won't in a few weeks when the weather is genuinely chilly enough for wool socks, but what the hey. I'll save them for Anya and make Daniel some more. And look what a willing model I've got:
How long will that last? I don't know, but I certainly appreciate it now.
He also helped with the photo session:
Pattern: none, just vanilla st st socks with a 2x2 cuff. I cast on 52 stitches on 2.25mm needles. Next pair I'll cast on 56. These are almost snug.
Yarn: Lang Jawoll superwash, 1 skein (50g per skein). There's a bit leftover, enough to stripe up another pair made with leftover yarn. Daniel chose this blue yarn himself when we were at Stitchers' Crossing last spring. This yarn isn't fabulous (will probably pill), but it seems sturdy and he likes the color.
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