Our glorious vacation on the pond is quickly coming to an end; Friday we fly back to Seattle, leaving our summer in New Hampshire behind.
We’ve had buckets of fun doing lots of nothing: mostly swimming, kayaking, digging and carving rivers on the beach in front of Michele’s house, my mother-in-law who has so graciously tolerated a month-long house invasion. There has been plenty of rain, but it hasn’t slowed anyone down; you can still play in the pond, or the forest, or go to a fair in the rain since it rarely lasts all day, and a little moisture doesn’t really hurt anyone.
I could write pages about the places we’ve been and the people who have filled our days, but since my intention is to write about creating and inspiring art, suffice it to say that the beach has kept me far away from the computer for any meaningful stretch of time.
One place I make sure to visit every summer is Harrisville Designs, located in historic Harrisville, NH. Walking into their retail store fills me with such a warm feeling that I have a hard time leaving; when I visited last week, I stayed for three hours, browsing, reading and chatting with the customers and staff. There is something about the restored 18th century brick mill with its gently sloping wide pine floors, straddling the river that fills me with nostalgia.
If you have ever knit with their yarns, or seen them up close, you’ll know what a beautiful way they have of blending colors that aren’t really a tweed, but still have bits of color that stand out as the yarn passes through your fingers.
To my delight, I noticed on this visit that they sell their dyed fibers as batts. There was no way to choose a single color; lucky for me they sell the roving by the ounce, so I could take a reasonable sample of many colors.
After looking at the bags of wool next to my bed for six days, I couldn’t resist them any longer. Yesterday, we milled a little goat milk soap from the farmer’s market in Henniker so we could start to play. Can you imagine a more beautiful place to felt than in the shade of an old beech tree, at the edge of a pond?
These little balls of goodness will end up strung together as a necklace, or zipper pulls, or Christmas ornaments at some point. In the meantime, they will sit on my desk reminding me of summer on Thorndike Pond.