We've had steamy jungle temperatures in the forties and fifties this week, but this morning, on the first day of spring, it was twenty-four degrees while I walked the dogs. Nevertheless, I discovered that enough snow and ice had melted to make the brick walkways along the Penobscot passable. We strolled beside the river for the first time since November, the plates of ice cracking and squeaking as they rubbed against each other, completely freaking out the dogs. Ducks sat in streaks of open water. The mud along the path thawed, releasing odors that had been safely encased in ice all winter. In Maine, March is a hopeful, smelly month.
The owner lives upstairs with her family and a pack of cats. She and the other ladies at the shop are talented, knowledgeable, and enthusiastic about knitting. Unlike the snoots I've encountered in yarn shops in New York and Boston, they are patient and encouraging teachers. I've taken several Saturday classes, learning how to make mittens and cables, and to knit fair isle patterns holding two colors of yarn in different hands like some kind of expert.
I'm off to sew together the pieces of a top-secret gift for a bridal shower tomorrow. Enjoy the warm weekend, and watch out for mud puddles.