This morning I drove up the mountain to Katoomba, the principal township and tourist mecca of this City-Within-a-National-Park. I thought I might get to take a couple of photos of the view from the top of the main street, but in true mountains form, it was one of those shrouded in mist kind of mornings. So instead of a Blue Mountains vista you are getting a view of my feet on the tiled doorstep of my favourite little breakky spot in this town that I love. I should have remembered that the top of the mountain has a special weather pattern all of its own. While I woke to a grey but temperate morning down my end of the range, at the other end of the hill it was somewhat chilly misty moisty and spitting with rain.
With bacon with egg and a sizable coffee under my belt, I tottered up the hill that is Katoomba Street with little happy snap camera still in my hand. It was just after 9am, and many of the shops up and down the strip were still sleepy-head closed. But the florist, as is the case with most florists, must have been up earlier than most to have these delightful fresh blooms stacked in the wagon by their door.
And this is a pic of one of the council garbage bins that are dotted along the pavements. Right at the top of the street is the historic Carrington Hotel, queen of the roaring 20s, now quite faithfully restored and bought back to life. The influence of this grand old lady is beautifully reflected in this rendition of the native Waratah, once abundant in the surrounding bushland. Very pleasant picture of a garbage bin, don't you think?
But my mission this morning was to deliver a goodly bag of unwanted yarn to a band of community yarnbombers; always greedy for woollen string with which to beautify the urban landscape. With my secret drop off under my belt, I loitered around for a bit until the Katoomba Knitting & Needlecraft store opened it's doors at 10.00am (See, it is a sleepy town).
So joyous and bright
And this is what I was waiting for. Navy blue sock yarn. While it *might* appear to be a fairly pedestrian choice, I have it in mind to knit school socks for my man-child. I rail against commercial cotton socks that grow holes in the toes and make feet sweaty and cold. I bought four balls. There's quite a whack of yarn in these, and considering my man-child likes to wear those ankle sport socks I reckon I'll get at least eight pairs out of this lot. But it's going to be a handbag job; one of those projects that sits in my bag for passenger trips in the car and waiting around in waiting rooms. But I'm glad I managed to bag the yarn at 20% off the usual price.
And while I was there, I picked up several balls of lovely Heirloon 5-ply in a softly-softly grey. Will be perfect for this classic raglan baby cardigan methinks. Maybe, if I am lucky, I might be able to get this on the needles this evening.
And now for the last thing, which maybe should have been the first thing, a little ta-da! Amongst the woolly jumble inherited from CC's mum back in January were a few balls of vintage Cleckheaton 8-ply. I can't decide whether it's caramel or brown rice, but I think caramel sounds better. I couldn't really date the label, but I'm guessing maybe from the 1970s? Anyway, I finished these off last night, with a crochet trim in mocha to tart them up a bit. So now that I think on it, perhaps the overall effect is cappuccino. Isn't it wonderful that yarn doesn't go off or expire? And in these days of everything-old-is-new-again I am pleased with my waste not want not baby booties. With a little more cloudy rainy weather on the cards for the weekend I am happily anticipating lots more of the clickety-clack (with pots of tea).