Aqueduct

Posted by amy at May 1st, 2007

(this post is about knitting, more specifically about knitting yarn into socks, if you are interested, you are welcome to read along, if you are curious about what kind of socks to knit me, please read carefully, if you want to buy me a present for my upcoming birthday, skip to the bottom, if you couldn’t care less, move alone and I’ll have a far more interesting post coming up within the next day or two.)

Dear Sock Pal,
I am a sucker for hand knit socks, I am especially a sucker for handknit socks made from handspun, handpainted sock yarn, quite possibly from a small one or two person type of a shop. I like yarns across the color spectrum and am not fussy about toe shapes or heal shapes, other than the fact that I do tend to wear out the big toe spot on my socks. I’m actually more concerned about your knitting experience than my enjoyment, as I’ve received several pairs of socks in the past that I would never have knit for myself, but love unconditionally, both because they were a surprise (I like being surprised) but also because I could tell that my sock palls enjoyed making them. I want socks that you are going to love making and not feel bad about giving away.

If I could dare to be so bold, I’d send you off to MS&W this weekend with this mission - find the fiber that makes you smile, that amuses you, a color combination you like but would never wear yourself maybe, or a fiber you haven’t tried before. And while you are at MS&W, pet a llama for me. I’ll be doing my sock yarn shopping at Massachusetts Sheep & Wool in a few weeks, and I’ll pet an alpaca for you.

Thank you!

Now, for those who would like to buy me presents for mother’s day or my birthday, here are some ideas:

I could use a new laptop bag, and this one is dreamy.

Also, I think I’ve totally proven my committment to my walking routine, and I’d love to be rewarded wtih this cool gadget. Oh, and I could use an armband, now that it isn’t winter coat weather.

Carry on …

Posted by amy at March 28th, 2007

Hit my 100 mile mark at the top of a nearby hill.

Posted by amy at March 25th, 2007

Sunday, March 25th: 96 miles down 4 to go, I’m going to make it!

And I’m going to do it again - 100 miles my July 1st - want to join me?

Posted by amy at March 11th, 2007

100 Miles by April 1st - I’m at 86.5 miles with 20 days to go.
***
Back to the blogroll and the outer circle of the Berkshire blogs. I found Karen Christensen’s Berkshire Blog last fall when I was putting together a website for a conference that went along with “African American Heritage in the Upper Housatonic Valley”. That text was published by Christensen’s Berkshire Publishing Company.

As a historian, I’m always wary of the potential for ghetoization when we start to look at one distinct American experience. Frances Jones-Sneed, a History Professor at MCLA, proposed that by looking at those distinct American experiences in relation to “the local” one could build a curriculum that exposed students to African American narratives in their own back yards. The Shaping Role of Place Curriculum project is a collection of curricula by local k-12 school teachers based on Jones-Sneed’s seminal thesis.

I bookmarked the Berkshire Publishing Company’s site and included it in the website I was building, but it was months before I had a moment to go back and dig around. Berkshire Publishing Company specializes in reference books, and Christensen’s blog is a refreshingly readable and intellectual, and her social media savvy is apparent. I’ve never met Karen, as she travels in the South County circles, but when our paths do cross, I promise to report tales of me being totally tongue tied and awestruck.

Tangentially related by both geography and history is GreenmanTim, who writes at Walking The Berkshires. GreenmanTim is an avid student of the Civil War and often blogs about his own genealogy projects, in addition to random tidbits of South County life.

***
I am hiding at my parent’s house on Cape Cod for the week. Tomorrow, I will retreat to their in-law apartment, unpack my milk crate full of books on 1960s social protest movements and try to flesh out a few elements of my book. This time, I’m particularly interested in the Berkley Free Speech Movement, Columbia University’s Student Strike, COINTELPRO and The FBI, Drug Use and Life in the Closet. Watch this space for any ideas I may need help working through.

Posted by amy at February 25th, 2007

Boosted by my previous week’s snowshoe outing, I decided to enter a 5 k snowshoe race up at Greylock Glen. Now, I’m not a runner, but I am a hiker and spend an awful lot of time outside walking in the cold, and I mistakenly thought that I was signing up for a 5k ridge run, not a 5 k “black diamond.”

When I drove by the banks’ time and temp display at 8:30, it read 12°, although according to weather dot com, with the wind chill factor it felt like -4°. I drove up the mountain to the race starting point, paid my $12 registration fee and introduced myself to the race coordinator, proudly proclaiming that this was my first snowshoe race. I’m sure it was quite obvious that I was not one of the regulars as I was dressed for a day of downhill skiing, big bulky parka, ski pants, and what I soon found out were dated snowshoes. My first tip off was looking at everyone else’s snowshoes - and as I looked around the ground, all I could see were the words “Dion snowshoes” and then as I began to scan the bodies up, I saw Dion Snowshoe polartec vests, and hats and earwarmers. In fact, I may have been the only one there not wearing Dion Snowshoes — and as I found out later, there was a reason they were all wearing those shoes …

We lined up, me at the way, way back so that I wouldn’t block anyone’s passage. Ready, set, go and we were off. I ran the first half mile uphill then had to slow down and walk. While I’ve been slowly upping my running distance, I haven’t been doing it in the snow and I’ve been running downhill, not up. It was fairly clear to me that I was no longer at the back of the pack, I was on my own and became content enjoy a day out snowshoeing, knowing I’d eventually hit the finish line. About an hour and half into my hike I became quite paranoid that I had lost the race path and was now wondering aimlessly in 12,500 acres. While I was still following the pink flags that marked my way, the ground didn’t look like 50 snowshoers had just trampled through it, in fact, it looked like I was the first visitor in days. At one point, I got so worried, that I turned around and bactracked for about 20 minutes until I ran into another couple who told me I was going the right way and I spent the next 20 minutes covering the same ground for the 3rd time. I made it over a hill, hiked down and paused for a minute. I was 2 hours in what I thought was going to be an hour and half hike - at the most - and I could tell from my position to the mountain that I wasn’t even close to the finish line. I pulled out my cell phone and called my husband to let him know that I was still on the mountian, that I was on the PINK FLAGGED TRAIL (I must have said it five times) just incase they needed to send out a lost hiker team) and that I thought I was going to be ok, but thought someone should know where I was.

Twenty minutes later, I saw the gazebo and was so thrilled that I finished that I picked up my pace and ran towards the finish line. I was clocked in at 2 hours 2o minutes and was greeted with several rounds of congratulations, followed by promises that this was the toughest race course yet and I should be quite proud of myself for finishing.

I poured myself a hot chocolate, ate a chocolate chip cookie and then chatted with a very friendly woman who tried to talk me into a 4 mile race today (um, thanks, but I need to go home and lick my wounds first). She introduced me to Bob Dion, of Dion Snowshoes, who lends out his snowshoes for these races in the hopes that you will buy them. I think everyone I saw before me had already bought theirs and I could see why. They are narrow and far more flexible than my old LL Bean models which definately slowed me down on the single track sections of the course (not that I was running, but my shoes were so wide that coming downhill on the narrow parts hurt my ankles and I had to move extra slow to make sure I didn’t pull a face plant.)

There is another race next weekend and I’m trying to talk my brother and his wife, who are actual runners and far fitter than I, to come out and join me. And if I do it again, I’m going to be in Bob’s snowshoes!

Posted by amy at February 19th, 2007

Pardon me if I seem a little spacy, re-entry is tough and the come down after the most perfect week is sure to be a bit loopy. Every once in a while, you get a day that makes life worth living. When the snow started to fall last Tuesdsay, I could smell the possibility of it, and when I got the call at 5:15 am on Wednesday that there was indeed a snow day, on valentines’s day, I was giddy with possibility.

To some, the idea of spending two hours shoveling sounds like the start of a novel set in hell and yet, for me, it was as if the fountains of Naples, Florida decided my pennies were worth a Valentine’s day blizzard. I followed up shoveling with valentine themed arts and crafts which we delivered [via snowshoe] to the ladies next door. I cooked dinner with my husband [ginger beef with spicy green beans, a bottle of Barefood Merlot], got in another round of shoveling and went for my first real snowshoe hike of the year.

I grabbed the snowshoes again on Saturday, Sunday and again today and hit Mt. Greylock - the tallest mountain in Massachusetts. Saturday, I started out too late in the day, got a short hike in down to a waterfall and then back up, before I was afraid the sun would go down and I’d be bear food.

Sunday, I got out early and tried out a trail my brother tipped me off to. My hike up was fast and furious, it was cloudy and I was cold, but the climb felt good. I encountered a few people who were climbing in with their skis on - maybe next year I’ll give it a try. I didn’t make it to the summit - maybe 1.5 miles up? When I made it back down to my car, the sun was shining, I was sweating and my body felt great.

Today, I headed out for an afternoon trek around the ridge trials. Thudnerbolt goes straight up, where as Bellows Pipe winds its way around the lower part of the hill. As I got back to the car I snapped one more shot across the valley, to remember the end of my perfect weekend.

Posted by amy at January 14th, 2007

I’m trying to do 100 miles by April 1st with a group of other knitters over at Runagogo. I love my long weekend walks. I have been doing most of my walking at night, after the kids go to bed. But on Saturdays, I go during the afternoon. I get to start with the valley behind me. The first 100 yards or so are straight up hill, then I level off, dip down and up to another hill behind our home. From there it is about 1000 feet up, gradually rising along a 4 mile twisting road through farm country. We have had a huge cloud system holding tight over us for the past few days, so the photoshoot below doesn’t show the breathtaking views that I normally see, but where you see grey, imagine a mountain range with spectacular sunsets.

Yesterday, before I started up the mountain road, I met some new neightbors. The woman on the left just bought the birthplace of Susan B. Anthony. Not sure what she will do with it yet, but she isn’t relocating her any time soon.

She is part of an organization called “Feminists for Life” - and as I was approaching her I thought of a quote I heard on NPR the day before. A senior member of the US miliary was paraphrasing Golda Meir when he said that we have to teach the Iraqis to love their sons more than they hate their enemies. The irony was not lost on me, as we continue to send our sons and daughters to kill their sons and daughters.

As I saw her unloading something out of her car, I thought I probably have far more in common with her than the one major issue that divides us. While I am pro-choice, my standpoint hasn’t grown out of patriarchial conspiracies about keeping women down. I think of it as an evil necessity and the longer both sides debate where the line is drawn between legal and illegal, the more energy is diverted from actually addressing the issue of unwanted pregnancies, of trapping young women in cycles of government sponsored poverty, and most of all, continuing the falicy that women get into this all by their lonesome and they must bear the full brunt of their choices.

Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton played major roles in my transformation into a feminist when I was a first year in college. The pair of reformers had lived two towns over and their history was integrated into the character of the region. What I remember most about my intro to the history of feminism class, though, was the constant squabbling between different strains of the women’s movement and how, in hindsight, their differences were so minor and diverted much energy from unified progress.

So I stopped, and I introduced myself, and I welcomed her to the neighborhood, and we had a lovely conversation. I met a friend of hers who was taking photos of the house and who was a passionate textile historian. We talked about women working in the cotton mills, and how it provided the social and financial training that paved the way for the labor and women’s rights movements and it did turn out that we had far more in common than what we disagreed on - which was kept silent, no mention of that which divided us.

I made two new friends yesterday, and I was glad I stopped. I think Susan B. Anthony would be proud

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