We spent midsummer on an island in a little lake, with a detour to a nearby town — to which we took an old steam train; when it pulled up I heard a little kid behind me breathlessly exclaim that it was just like Harry Potter — for maypole raising and festivities. There were some little stands there with jam and rag rugs and hand knitting, which was a lot of fun to look at. One stand had some simple but lovely shawls on display, and when I was looking at them, the woman selling them sidled up to me, nudged me, and pointed to one of them. “That one’s for you, eh?” It was a triangle shawl in a simple lace pattern, in a deep orange to match my bright orange dress. I laughed and said that I’d in fact knitted an orange shawl, so yes, I supposed so. She told me she loved to see people in bright colors, and we chatted for a bit.
I almost bought some self-patterning sock yarn with aloe and jojoba from the stand next to her, but managed to contain myself. We came away with freshly-made ice cream in our bellies, and some sparkling cloudberry juice and cloudberry jam. And whiskey fudge, come to think of it. And a little bit of color, since we forgot to put on sunscreen.
I also tried slacklining, and got better but not good. This is early on, when I needed some help to stay on for any length of time — but that didn’t stop me from doing weird one-legged yoga poses, obviously.
I’m not going to pretend it was high up, but it was a bit higher than it looks, I promise.