Category: Crochet

If you were to listen closely, I bet that right about now, you would be able to hear a faint crackling sound coming from my direction- No need to worry though, that’s only the sound of my brain shorting out and hemorrhaging from both my ears. Ah, the stress that has left me without words to share through the blog and emails alike sent me back into hiding for a little bit there, nursing an intense headache and a terrible case of procrastination. Thanks to this brilliant [Read: Moronic] tactic, there’s only more to stress over, with essays approaching their due dates at light-speed and emails coming in faster than I can hit the “refresh” key, and I’m feeling just a little bit… Overwhelmed. That’s where the brain explosions come in.

Hoping to salvage at least part of my remaining grey matter, I thought it might be helpful to take a deep breath and try to relax a little bit, without completely absconding from my duties. Easier said than done, right? Figuring that there was no harm in trying to soothe aggravated nerves in any way possible, the first issue to tackle was the clutter overflowing from every nook and cranny of my work space. There’s only so much room in a dorm, you know, and I’m already storing a medium-sized pumpkin under my bed! (It’s a long story…) Once there was enough hidden away in closets in draws to at least pretend that the room was clean, it seemed only right to do a small bit of re-decorating in a way that would perpetuate my new “zen” approach, and lucky for me, I found a cute little pot of bamboo to adorn the window sill with while putting off my school work again.

That was all well and good, but in no time at all, I noticed that this bamboo did not come alone. An incredible and preposterous situation it would seem, but there was no denying it- Some small creature had bummed a ride and smuggled itself into the greenery!

As if my mind wasn’t frazzled enough, how do you expect me to explain the presence of a panda here in New England, in the brisk days of fall, no less!? Preparing to go hide under the covers of my bed again until this mirage had disappeared, I was struck by how deep his blue eyes were, staring intently and purposefully at me.

What was he trying to tell me? If only he would say. Remaining stone silent, he simply clung close to his bamboo and watched me from afar, looking neither happy nor sad. Since there was no way that I would get through all of this work with a cheerful smile plastered on my face, I realized that perhaps his approach might actually be helpful, if I could just take it all in, get through it, and save my intensity for later. So I guess it’s thanks to that black and white critter that I’m back on the blog and about to dig into those essays at last- Just don’t expect me to slog through it all in one go, feeling “zen” or not!

Right about this time of year, most people are starting to think about what to do for the approaching Thanksgiving celebration, and the ominous threat of Christmas in the near future, Halloween already long forgotten. While I’m certainly on that same track as well, there are definitely other important seasonal events to think of, such as the arrival of fresh truffles. No, it’s not a holiday or even a particular day, if you must be so picky, but the notion and excitement over these dirty fungus is rather hard to ignore, frequently popping up in the news, and I can’t help but wish there was a way I could partake in this autumnal joy. Truth be told, I’ve never actually tasted a truffle before – Not even truffle oil – But some day when my funds come together, (Ha) I can still plan and hope to put them on my menu eventually.

With this thought in mind, I ventured out on a walk one brisk morning, taking in the landscape and fresh fall air. Looking down to navigate safely across the cracked and perilous sidewalk, a peculiar display caught my eye. Just off the beaten path, a perfect little mushroom sat perched atop a rock, as if waiting for someone to come and snatch it up. So incredibly clean you would think it had never even seen the soil below it, I had a hard time believing what I was seeing.

It was certainly no truffle, mind you, but I was fairly confident this was a benign little button mushroom I had on my hands. Ordinarily I would never venture to pick something so potentially deadly as a random, unidentified fungus, but thinking of truffles and how treasure really could just spring forth in the guise of a humble fungus, I quickly came to the conclusion that I wanted this morsel of earthy goodness. Reaching out my hand to snatch it from its perch… The rock itself lurched suddenly away from my grasp! Shocked flat off my feet, I stumbled one pace before falling to the ground, coming face to face with the supposed stone…

Clearly, I had made a severe mistake in my assertion that this was just another bit of fossilized cement, but really, who would have guessed that it was actually a hedgehog? With such great identification skills, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t get to sample that seemingly innocuous mushroom- Who knows what poisons it might have truly held!

Backing up to give the startled creature space, I made my slow, embarrassed retreat as gently as possible so as not become even more frightening. Perhaps it was no truffle that the hedgehog held, but I’m sure that measly mushroom was easily as valuable in his eyes. I just hope that no one else happens upon his prize like… And that no one else is stupid enough to think that picking wild mushrooms wily-nilly is a good idea!

Every single year, whether we chose to go trick-or-treating or just stay home and watch scary movies, there was always one required activity for Halloween: Pumpkin picking, and inevitably, pumpkin carving. Some of my fondest memories of the holiday involve gooey handfuls of cold pumpkin mush and seeds smeared all the way up my elbows, chunks of pumpkin flesh on the floor, and my dog going wild trying to “clean up.” More often than not, the carvings would end up as crude interpretations of the original sketch since I have never been skilled in carving, sculpture, or anything of the sort, but no matter- On to the front porch they would go, and come Halloween, we would light them up and display their wacky designs all the same. I suppose that this tradition has contributed to my love of all things pumpkin around this time of year, but here at school, the craving is more like an itch that I can’t scratch. Without transportation to the local farms or even supermarkets, there’s just no way to get a nice, round, orange globe, much less carry it back to the dorm and up 3 flights of stairs.

Still, the desire continues to flicker at every opportunity. Soon I found myself with a tiny little baby pumpkin in my basket while shopping for my standard pantry items, and I swear it must have simply jumped in on it’s own. Too small to eat or carve, this was simply a cute little friend to perch upon my desk. But then, out of the blue one day, I was bombarded by a whole pile of medium sized gourds, strewn about on the ground on the campus green, free for the taking. Well, you certainly don’t need to ask me twice, so stooping down to examine these lovely spheres, I scooped up the biggest one I could carry and paraded it right back to my room. And so my collection grew.

Now I have four pumpkins to keep me company; Still too small to carve, but charming decorations all the same. Looking at them all now, crowded onto my small desk top, I can’t help but wonder if these lovely squashes are really as innocent as they appear… Truly, I think that they must have cast a spell on me, because who in their right mind would just start collecting pumpkins, and especially those that can’t even be eaten or turned into jack-o-lanterns? Plus, that first little guy is starting to look a bit suspicious to me… Perhaps he has something to do with this whole obsession…

In case you’re pressed for spirited decorating options like I am, it’s easy to just draw or paint on pumpkins instead and perhaps whip up a cute little hat or two. This particular witch’s hat is a snap to make, and you could even use it to adorn a few bewitching stuffed animals as well!

Using an F hook and black worsted weight yarn…

[For the top cone]
Sc3 sts in a circle
Sc even
Sc2 into each st (6 sts)
Sc even
Sc1, sc2 into next st* around (9 sts)
Sc even
Sc2, sc2 into next st* around (12 sts)
Sc even
Sc3, sc2 into next st* around (15 sts)
Sc even
Break yarn, leaving a long tail to sew with.

[For the bottom]
Sc5 sts in a circle
Sc2 into each st (10 sts)
sc1, sc2 into next st* around (15 sts)
sc2, sc2 into next st* around (20 sts)
sc3, sc2 into next st* around (25 sts)
sc4, sc2 into next st* around (30 sts)
Break yarn, and weave in ends.

To assemble, simply sew the cone onto the circle so that it’s centered, tie off, and weave in ends. Have a hauntingly fun holiday!

How cruel fate can be, stacking the cards against you right at the time when you need a helping hand, if anything. Thrilled to leap right into the weekend as soon as my feet hit the pavement on Friday morning, I found myself feeling progressively worse and worse. Soon the pain began pounding on the walls of my stomach, and then radiating upwards to my head, where it chose to take up residence for a good long while. By the time night fell, I knew that my fun plans had a snowball’s chance in hell if I was feeling so wrecked this soon in the game. No more Boston Vegetarian Food Festival, no more Wachusett Mountain Apple Fest, and to make matters insufferable, there was also to be no more baking until I could be certain I wasn’t contagious. What agony! Perhaps the worst part of falling ill isn’t the symptoms of sickness themselves, but the limitations they present when others would rather quarantine you than have you potentially infect them, too.

Hoping desperately that there was an easy way out of this weekend-killing malady, I bundled myself up like a mummy and dashed over to the health clinic, seeking answers that perhaps could rescue my plans.

Conferring first with the kind nurse about the potential to shake this off in an hour or two, I could see a sad but knowing look in her eyes, despite the warm smile she donned to ease my worries. It was all but a foregone conclusion, but since I had come this far, I still proceeded to see the doctor and get the final word on my condition.

Examining me carefully from afar, it seems as though he had hastily made up his mind on a diagnosis before I even had time to sit down. Of course, I’m certain that the blood-shot eyes, crazily tousled hair and bright red nose made things pretty obvious, but I was disappointed to receive so little attention in my time of need. Asking quietly and as sweetly as I could muster, I asked about the possibility of going out this weekend, maybe seeing some people… Or a couple hundred people… But it was no use. Advised immediately to stay in bed, sleep it off, and get lots of warm fluids, this girl got a one-way ticket back to her dorm room. No, it was nothing particularly serious, but it simply wouldn’t do to have me running around town and potentially making things worse, for myself and for others.

And so I missed out on all of the fun happenings I had so looked forward to and I’m sorry to everyone I didn’t get a chance to meet up with. There will be other times, as I keep reassuring myself, so I just hope that I can shake off the last of this cold and start running at 100% again. At least I know that even if I didn’t get the magical cure I was hoping for, the clinic staff here are quite friendly!

If you blinked, you might have easily missed the first half of the academic semester just like I must have, because all of a sudden, numerous lengthy assignments have been dropped right at my feet, due tomorrow for the midterm grade. No, they didn’t just suddenly drop out of the sky without the slightest warning, but I can’t help but feel slightly surprised at how quickly the days are rushing passed, especially when it feels as if I’m simultaneously accomplishing less and less. Less blogging, less baking, less crafting- All so that school can take the center stage, much against my true wishes. But when at college, what’s a student to do?

Hunched over at my desk, scribbling indecipherable notes day in and day out, I’m afraid that my 7 page essay on classic sociology theory will still be 4 or 5 pages shy on the day of reckoning. It’s not a terribly difficult subject or anything, it’s just the formality of writing in MLA format, double-spaced, 1-inch margins, citations for every fact… It’s so deadening. Not like writing in any sense that I’d like to think of it, I’d rather undergo painful dentistry than finish out that final argument and cap it off with an equally exciting page or two of bibliography. Still, there’s little choice but to persist, despite the abundant temptations to focus on different activities…

Glancing up from the endless stream of incomprehensible text before me, I saw that a friend had come to visit, looking eager to romp around outside and enjoy the gorgeous daylight. While the last thing I wanted to do was to stay cooped up inside, pounding away at this frustrating paper, I simply couldn’t justify taking a break at such a late stage in the game. It was now or never, and if the report wasn’t written by the end of the day, it would end up being never. Disappointed, my friend’s face fell when he heard my response, and turned away, sullen.

Buckling down once again, only 2 or 3 more sentences flowed from my pen before I realized that I was being watched, and lo and behold, my friend had returned once again, this time with a delightful ball of yarn in tow. He seemed to be taunting me, teasing me, Don’t you want to play with the fantastic ball of yarn? It was all an elaborate ruse, of course, since he was more interested in playing fetch than knitting up a new project, but that wasn’t important. What mattered most was prying me from my position, prone in front of the death sentence of an assignment, no matter the means. Tempted terribly to abandon ship, it took all the willpower I could muster to stay and continue working, avoiding his distracting trap. Shaking off the restless feeling building up, I tried yet again to finish my work. Slowly but surely getting back in the groove, I felt certain that I would be done in no time at this pace. But then, I looked up and saw my friend had returned yet again, with some other lure at hand…

Wait a sec- A ginger Newman O?! Where on earth did you get that? I finished the box a week ago, at least! Hey, come back here with that cookie! Hey, if I go play with you for a bit, can I have it? Where’s that yarn ball- Come on, you win, just give me the cookie!!

Everyday, the sight outside my third floor dorm room window is looking more and more autumnal. Leaves slowly making the transition from vivid greens to more the subdued, modest hues of fall, acorns swelling and growing to the size of luscious cherries, hidden just behind those colorful drapes- How this season is commonly thought of as a time of decay completely escapes me, considering the continued progression of renewed life, albeit in more subtle visions than the flashy explosions of blooms so synonymous with spring. Before long, I began to hear a curious new beat to accompany the standard symphony of daily dorm life, a sharp tap… tap, tap! as inconsistent as it was jarring. At first I was convinced that hailstones had begun to fall in a freak twist of weather patterns, but all one had to do was step outside and see the ground littered with spent acorns to know the source.

And there they all lay, strewn like spent confetti, covering the sidewalks and streets, just waiting to be whisked away by hungry critters preparing for the first frost. Enter, the squirrel- Or should I say, squirrels, as there seem to be almost as many of those bushy-tailed rodents are there are acorns, and believe me, that’s a hell of a lot of squirrels.

A breed apart from the squirrels I used to share my lawn with at home, these large rats are surprisingly aggressive, exactly the opposite that the plentiful bounty of acorns might suggest. Don’t let those cute pointed ears and gentle, rounded eyes fool you- These guys? They wouldn’t flinch in the face of an on-coming tank if it meant they could gather more nuts. Chased up a tree, they’ve been known to throw twigs and leaves at their perceived attackers, refusing to budge until their opponents have given up first.

Honestly, with the numbers and strength of that growing squirrel army… I think that instead of worrying about capturing the last small bites of summer and preparing for the cold that is sure to come, perhaps they should be a cause of concern!