kentucky
We've spent the last week visiting my parents in my Kentucky hometown. We're leaving tonight, and I confess I'm not quite ready to go. I haven't lived here since I graduated from high school and went off to college over a decade ago. At the time, I was ready for new places and new adventures (so I went to Kansas of all places--shows you my wild side, huh?), but now I'm starting to feel the pull to come back. This is mostly because of the kids, I am sure. They just won't get to know their Oma and Opa very well while we're a 10-hour drive away from each other.
But there's more. The rolling hills, the old stone fences and black tobacco barns that make up the bluegrass landscape. (There's also the occasional confederate flag, but I can get over that.) The lilting Kentucky accent - not the same as mountain speak, I assure you - but it has its charm, like every time someone gets a glimpse of Anya's red, red hair: "Ohhh, look at that darrrrrrlin' hay-er! Idn't she cyooooote?" Fresh blackberries so sweet you can pop one after another in your mouth like candy. Ditto peaches, all from the farm down the road. The familiar feel of the warm concrete under my feet when I step outside to get the mail. The bright sun shining on my mom's garden. The sound of the attic fan pulling a cool breeze in the house when it's not yet hot enough for the air conditioner. Watching brit-coms with my mom and knitting on my latest lace project (pictures soon, I promise) after the kids are asleep. Drinking cup after cup of coffee.
Yesterday my mom and I took the kids to Magpie Yarn in downtown Lexington. It was a brave move, especially at naptime, but no one drew on the walls or had a diaper accident on the cashmere, so I considered the trip a success. In fact, Daniel was tired enough that he was content to look at a book and scribble on a pad of paper, while Anya chewed on a rattle (and got fussed over just a wee bit by the folks in the shop). If I owned a yarn shop, I would want it to be just like Magpie. It's not especially big, but the selection is very nice (so much Jo Sharp I nearly swooned, and for some reason no one sells that stuff in Madison so I had to work very very hard to leave it on the shelves), the yarn is beautifully arranged, and the space is light and open and beautiful and inviting. There are plenty of places to sit down. And the owner is as nice as nice can be.
(Did I break my resolution not to buy yarn for two years? Er, um, ahem. Maybe. But it's okay. I'm on vacation, and besides, she had Mountain Mohair 40% off. I really had no choice, did I?)
But there's more. The rolling hills, the old stone fences and black tobacco barns that make up the bluegrass landscape. (There's also the occasional confederate flag, but I can get over that.) The lilting Kentucky accent - not the same as mountain speak, I assure you - but it has its charm, like every time someone gets a glimpse of Anya's red, red hair: "Ohhh, look at that darrrrrrlin' hay-er! Idn't she cyooooote?" Fresh blackberries so sweet you can pop one after another in your mouth like candy. Ditto peaches, all from the farm down the road. The familiar feel of the warm concrete under my feet when I step outside to get the mail. The bright sun shining on my mom's garden. The sound of the attic fan pulling a cool breeze in the house when it's not yet hot enough for the air conditioner. Watching brit-coms with my mom and knitting on my latest lace project (pictures soon, I promise) after the kids are asleep. Drinking cup after cup of coffee.
Yesterday my mom and I took the kids to Magpie Yarn in downtown Lexington. It was a brave move, especially at naptime, but no one drew on the walls or had a diaper accident on the cashmere, so I considered the trip a success. In fact, Daniel was tired enough that he was content to look at a book and scribble on a pad of paper, while Anya chewed on a rattle (and got fussed over just a wee bit by the folks in the shop). If I owned a yarn shop, I would want it to be just like Magpie. It's not especially big, but the selection is very nice (so much Jo Sharp I nearly swooned, and for some reason no one sells that stuff in Madison so I had to work very very hard to leave it on the shelves), the yarn is beautifully arranged, and the space is light and open and beautiful and inviting. There are plenty of places to sit down. And the owner is as nice as nice can be.
(Did I break my resolution not to buy yarn for two years? Er, um, ahem. Maybe. But it's okay. I'm on vacation, and besides, she had Mountain Mohair 40% off. I really had no choice, did I?)
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