Monday, September 12, 2011
Ever since I posted on the Blanket That Became the Legwarmer, (thus making things official-like), the Mr has come over Whole New Bloke. The concrete set to the jaw has melted away, there is renewed skip to the step, a lightness to shoulders no longer bunched around ears. It would be remiss of me not to report an overwhelming sense of household relief.
And, lo! A legwarmer-bedecked tree...
I’m not sure tree-legwarmer-bedecking, in your own backyard, counts as ‘yarnbombing’. There was no involvement of ladders and no ladder-induced concussion: none of that usual foray into the Art of Public Humiliation.
In the defence of my suffering, I did stitch a legwarmer through blindingly bright bursts of sunshine, interspersed with two, fleeting but horizontal rain showers and I did DOINK! my head on a branch, (so that’s the concussion covered). Reeling back, I placed my eyeball in the path of an oncoming twig-bit. There was a generous dose of tribulation.
After a while, the non-horizontally-rain-sodden household members ventured out to survey the Knitwear Art and the Mr led everyone in a jubilant THANK CRIPES IT’S OVER! round of high (twenty) five.
Not a natural, know-when-to-stop-type, I used my good eye to squint upward and quietly mused over a tree wearing half a legwarmer...
nb. Unlike the legwarmer bedecker (me), no tree was hurt in the (above) process. That bit of cut-off branch sticking out in the second pic from the top, is the result of dodgy tree-pruning practices of yore. I have a vague recollection of a twig-bit sticking in my eye and a half-blinded wrestle with the secateurs.