Thursday, I left for Rhinebeck, and got on a plane, and then another one, and landed squarely in the arms of magic. There’s no way for me to explain to you what Rhinebeck is, or… more properly, what it is to me, because on the surface it’s all easy. On the surface, Rhinebeck is a sheep and wool festival, and there are sheep and yarn and wool and thousands of knitters, and I guess really, considering how much I like all of those things, it’s a set up that I would love it, but Rhinebeck has become something else over the years. I could show you the sheep… Oh, wait. I will.
I could show you the grounds, the yarn, the stuff… Oh, fine. I will too.
Mostly though, I want to show you what I really go for. It’s the people….
and more specifically, these people.
Way back, in the beginning of knit-blogging, when all of this was fresh, and we were all discovering the virtues and wonder of far flung friends connected by a love of yarn and a bunch of websites, a bunch of us started going to Rhinebeck together. We’ve continued that, and this weekend I had the privilege and joy of spending this time with a group of women that I’ve been proud to call my friends for a decade. We spent the weekend enjoying wool, talking knitting, talking everything, knitting, catching up, and cementing what brings us back, over and over.
I love us.
(Photo credits to Caro, who always gets the best us on film, this time thanks to a recycling bin, and a timer.)
And I wore a new sweater. Rhinebeck. There’s nothing like it.