What I know.

Everywhere I go I learn some interesting things. I know that the Mississippi River is at it’s widest in Memphis, that Washington DC has the 2nd tallest escalator in the world, that the bookshop in Mount Vernon has an Opera House (where they never did Operas) on the top floor. I know that New York is glittering and that in Jamaica Plain in Boston “Riverside Drive” goes, most confusingly…by a lake. I know that Rhode Island isn’t an island, but that (astonishingly) Nantucket is. I know now that the South starts in the middle and that Florida (despite being as South as you can go,) is inexplicably not in “the South”. The “Mid-West” goes pretty far into the east, and the only state that you can say “Upstate” in is New York. (I learned this after very cleverly -with the help of my atlas- working out that I was in the top part of Tennessee. I remarked to a fellow traveller that this must be “Upstate Tennessee”. It wasn’t.)


I have remarked several times now that (not that I would ever dream of pressuring you) it would be much easier for travellers if you would contemplate dividing your country into geographic regions based on geography, rather than attitude.

It makes the atlas more useful. Note that I have a “stand-in” sock for this shot. In order to make The Sock last for an entire trip I’ve had to stagger it with other socks in progress so it doesn’t get knit up to soon. It’s all about pacing. This one is at the toe.

Here in Massachusetts there is much to learn. The sock and I were astonished to learn that Amherst is the birthplace of the Dewey Decimal System. (I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s seriously impressive…right?) and the sock visited Emily Dickinson’s house.


The sock is reclining on a sign that bans several activities, but inexplicably says nothing about posing a sock atop it.

The sock then trouped it’s wee arse over to Willow Books. Here is what I saw.


Did I miss anybody? (Here’s the other side)


I remain astonished. Completely astonished. No, wait…astonished and grateful.

I had a beer with the local lovelies afterwards.


Check in with Yarn Harpy for the full biz.

From Amherst I was driven (thanks Kelly) to the waiting bosom of Kaleidoscope yarns and the warmth and loving concern of The St. Albans Sheep and Wool Festival. Never heard of it? Stay tuned.