On the way out the door early Saturday morning, on a day which I knew was going to involve a stop halfway to my sister's house to transfer the contents of the carefully packed Volkswagen to my brother-in-law's old diesel Toyota 4 x 4, picking up lunch in Alamosa which was uncharacteristically packed with people attending a car show, picking up an 18 month old and her parents, and driving another couple hours to find a campsite as far from the ATV-driving Texans as possible (my apologies to all Texans who don't spend their summers tearing up the Colorado mountains on ATVs. I am sure there are some of you out there)... I turned around, grabbed anther skein of yarn from the stash, whacked the swift onto the dining room table, and wound the skein I suddenly was sure I would need in case the project I had planned but hadn't started didn't work out. Emergency yarn. Knitting in the woods is important. I did try to hide this activity from Emily, fearing ridicule. But the large cherry swift is a hard thing to hide. (It turns out if after passing the fields packed full of RVs pulled by massive pickups you keep driving far enough to actually need the four wheel drive you painstakingly transferred all your gear into, the camping opportunities are wide open.)
The signs of fall are undeniable. I love the fall. But I hate the end of the hiking season.