Dancing Colors yarn by Cheryl Oberle

I wanted something easy to knit at Guild last night, so finally wound my skein of Dancing Colors to start Carol's Clever Little Shawl (pattern available here), a reproduction of a sweet 19th-century shoulder wrap. Lots of garter stitch and a few fun moves, but overall should be a quick, trouble-free knit.

We've had an exceptionally cool, wet spring, so the "farm" lags a bit. We've had some untimely deaths; a lemon cucumber curled up its toes and croaked as did our pickling cukes and a beefsteak tomato gave up the ghost.

On a happier note, the organic, heirloom tomatoes (starters purchased from a neighbor) seem to be thriving. There's a Cherokee Purple Pole, a Denier and an Amy's Sugar Gem. We have no idea what to expect, but are hoping for big, ugly, juicy fruits.

We also have some usual suspects--a yellow squash (pictured front and center), an acorn squash, Roma tomato, a beefstead replacement, green pepper, herbs and a volunteer potato that sprouted of its own accord in the compost bin.

Oh, yes, and there's our apple tree, filled with fruit this year--fruit the squirrels are already pelting the cats with.

Nature is a miracle, no?

This year we purchased a handful of organic, heirloom tomato starters from a neighbor, fruits with in

My peregrinations have left me sadly behind on work. And given that I'm in the last, long mile of my Kimono Shawl (see the pattern here on Ravelry), there's not much happening creatively at the Nake-id Atelier.

But that doesn't mean I can't admire from afar. Stumbled on the above during a moment of time wasting reflection. This designer combines crocheted motifs, vintage buttons and beads with dramatic chain treatments. So chic.

More later. Promise.

I can assure you that the cats are grassfed. Every day they run outside to nosh in the leggy, overgrown corners of our yard. Then they come inside and throw up.

This, apparently, is not the case with cows. Feed a cow government-subsidized corn and it develops health problems. Put it out to pasture and it thrives. Which cow would you rather eat?

Stanley sporting a scarf knit from Trendsetter's Cha Cha in Dark Denim

I've said it before, travel is bad for blogging. OK--bad for blogging if you lack the discipline to "tweet/facebook/blog" while schlepping computers and cute outfits around the world.

There may not have been blogging, but there was knitting. To and from Rome, I whipped up the above. (A veritable Walter Raleigh, isn't he?) Cha Cha is a "railroad" yarn constructed from a thick ribbon to which a slim rail is attached. By using the slim rail as your "working" yarn, you get these dense, elaborate ruffles. It's all very fiddly and tricky when riding the waves of turbulence over the U.K.

Rome was molto bene. There was no time to explore beyond our small quarter of the city, Trastevere, a cobblestoned web of streets and 500-year-old buildings. Alas, no yarn shops, but there were leather stores (nice leather, not leather leather), cafes and gelati. I felt blessed to have the opportunity to work in the city--and eat there--to experience a taste of what it might be like to live there. (Taste being the operative word.)

Photo by Stephanie Simmons Geyer

Though I travel some for work, I'm no 100,000K road warrior. These folks can spend hours discussing the pros and cons of luggage brands, styles and proper stacking strategies. They are likely to carry duct tape.

Not quite as seasoned--"stacking challenged," as my colleague Stephanie likes to say--I find it hard to balance the laptop atop the rollaboard. Me and my luggage? A bit like watching the Three Stooges navigate the escalators, moving sidewalks, TSA agents, trains and shuttles involved in modern air transport.

But the knitting thing. That I got down. For domestic trips I carry the following: A small circular needle case with a variety of needle sizes, wood and metal, a Chibi, needle gauge and The Knit Kit--a fabulous gizmo. The circular needle cases are large enough to accommodate small projects or even a sweater sleeve along with all the tools. (Mine was a promotion; but here's a similar one).

Happy trails, everyone!

Obviously we have travel on the brain over here...

Frank, take it away!!

Not Rome, Georgia. Not Rhome, Texas. But Roma. The Eternal City. Like where the Pope lives (sort of, if you call Vatican City part of Rome). And you can eat gelato and great pasta and think about the Gallic Wars. And The Aeneid and all that Latin homework I blew off my senior year.

Semper ubi. Sub ubi. I always say. Especially in Rome.

Unfortunately this is a whirlwind business trip. Just long enough to eat some local cuisine, drink a little vino and--hopefully--buy a pair of Italian shoes. I'm still trying to figure out the in-flight knitting situation, yes or no; a plug for the laptop; yarn shops in Rome,dove?, and how in heaven I'm going to finish all the work once I get home.

Non fa niente. I'm going to Rome!

If you've read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver's gorgeous telling of their year living locally, then you've probably dreamed of spending days hunched over your bean rows where your biggest decision is how to dress the evening salad, still warm from the earth and sun.

Of course, like many gentlewomen and gentleman farmers, Kingsolver can afford to fail. Catastrophic weather becomes an inconvenience rather than a tragedy. But to credit Kingsolver's enormous talent and work ethic, after spending hard days harvesting zucchini, she no doubt logged good notes in her journal to inform the book she would later write. A book that would require a return to the kind of intellectual sussing and sorting that have many of us yearning to shepherd a herd of unruly goats or marshall blue and brown eggs to market.

This Sunday, the New York Times featured two stories about Plan Bs--pieces that explored the realities of pursuing the dream career when career A has either sputtered or not satisfied. To have a few animals and a healthy garden is one thing--a lot of work, granted--but to expect a livelihood from the land, especially an organic, sustainable one, is an extreme, but worthy gamble.

With 10 acres in Southern Colorado, Mitch and I know a little about this dream, enough to know that animals tie one to the land; it's much harder to visit family and friends when the chickens and alpacas need tending. So we wedge the care of the land between deadlines and the exigencies of making a living with our minds. But I could see how mowing in the hot sun without having to come in to check email has its appeal. How a tired body replenished with a simple meal can refresh the mind.

I guess what I'm saying is that it appears we need more balance as a culture. That careers that do nothing but produce money or digital characters on a screen need weight on the other side of the fulcrum. The production of a sweater, a loaf of bread or a brood of chicks, perhaps.

Chocolate bread from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day

Cooking is a grand way to avoid lengthy editing jobs. It's productive, makes the family happy and fills the house with homey aromas. Such worthy work, cooking.

So Saturday when Mitch asked me to put up some bread dough, I thought, "why stop with one batch?" In addition to the light whole wheat we've taken to consuming as our daily bread, I whipped up the above. It may look like a giant cow pie, but it's all yeasty, antioxidant fudgey goodness.

Have you had your antioxidants today?

(The recipe called for "premium bittersweet chocolate, preferably Valrhona or equivalent." I used Nestle's chocolate chips and cocoa powder from Savory Spice Shop--stuff we had on hand--the bread was still divine.)