fathomless

 

october 6 leaf“I was wondering if you were monitoring traffic,”  the lady said after I explained to her why my knitting was stretched across the street.  An older couple drove up and asked if it as okay to drive over the line, and I said yes.  The man said, “My wife knits and she would kill me if I drove over her knitting!”  They drove away beaming.  I talked to a couple who were interviewing for jobs in Bellingham, hoping to move here from Colorado.  S. bicycled up the hill and sat with me on the bench, telling me all about the Whatcom Artist Studio Tour, and how she had visited 10 studios with her friends today.  She was bubbling over with inspiration from all the artists that she encountered.  She told me she’ll miss me when I’m done with my knitting project, and that I’ll have to come up with a new project to do at the bench.  I was touched…R. was out in his greenhouse gathering the last of the tomatoes.  It was an unnaturally balmy day–67 degrees according to my young friend who drove by in his car with a Jack Russell named Coda staring out the rear window.  As I was winding the line back up the hill–a 25 minute ordeal now–a man came up with two terriers.  He asked me if I was trying to measure something, but I told him I was knitting a line to the sea.  He told me how many fathoms long the line was.  According to him, fishermen measure with fathoms as they reel in their nets–when your arms are outstretched like wings, that’s about one fathom.

 

 

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