…Joining Ginny’s YarnAlong, sharing what I’m knitting and reading…
The knitting I’ve been gravitating towards lately is my sweater, the pattern is: Daffodil by Orianna Eklund. Right now the knitting doesn’t require too much concentration, so it’s easy to fit into different pockets of time. Both yarns are so soft and enjoyable to knit with. And I am so enjoying knitting stripes! So my hands just keep finding their way back to this sweater and it’s the knit that’s getting all of my attention.
I finished reading ‘Breakfast with Buddha’ and really enjoyed it. I was telling Jeff about it, wishing he could read it alongside me, and then had the idea to inquire about an audiobook from the library. They told me another library has it and they are bringing it in for us. We’ll be able to listen to it on car rides, I’m looking forward to it.
At the local gas station, a woman recommended a book to Jeff, telling him it was by a local author and was a story of his life. The book is called ‘A Place to Lay My Head’ by Joe A. Moreland. I got a copy from the library and just started reading it this week. At the front there is a note from the author, saying: “One of the biggest regrets of my life is the fact that I had very little interest in my family history when I was young. By the time I became curious about the lives of my ancestors, most had passed on.” “My primary motivation for writing this book was to leave a chronicle of my younger years in case any of my grandchildren ever want to know how I lived as a young boy. I hope they find some of my anecdotes enlightening and interesting. This book is for them, should they ever wonder about their family history.”
I’m not very far into the book, but I think it will be hard to put down. This is what it says on the back: “In the early days of my youth, my family lived a nomadic lifestyle, taking possession of unattended shelter wherever we could find it. We lived in tents, crumbling log cabins, abandoned houses, a barn, a school bus, and even a chicken coop. This is the tale of my life during those years as my mother and father slowly (but somewhat reluctantly) lifted themselves out of the post-Depression era into contemporary society. I was 16 before we had a home of our own that had indoor plumbing, electricity, and a telephone. My brothers and I never minded the way we lived and, in fact, were quite happy with our way of life. I don’t pretend to recall every detail of my early life, but the rich and colorful dialects of my family and friends who lived in the rural Oregon Coast Range still echo through my mind.”
How about you? Knitting? Reading?