Fingerless glove

looking for what's missing... I'm a knitting, spinning, mother of teenagers with a big dog, a small cat, minus the lovely rabbit Meliflua.

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Location: Virginia, United States

Right now I'm listening to "An Irish Country Village" by Patrick Taylor, reading "Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake" by Anna Quindlen and knitting Wisconsin Wintersocks. And casting off the lace shawl I've been working on since I last posted.

Sunday, December 03, 2006


I saw something Saturday that made me realize I'm being transformed. It was a sad something. No photos for this post.

It was a pile of deer carcasses. Six doe: untagged, gutted, only the hind quarters missing, dumped in a heap on the side of the road in Pennsylvania right next to a pond.

Not many people from Northern Virginia hunt. (They prefer the blood sport of politics). Meat comes from a grocery store; let someone else provide it. Because I live here, I spend a fair amount of time defending hunters. The hunters I know love the land. They love wild creatures & their habitat. They believe if you can't make a clean shot, you shouldn't be hunting. The hunters I know are considerably less cruel than many of the gun control advocates.

This was not the behavior of a man who cared about the earth. I felt betrayed.

But the good thing: As angry as I was over the carelessness, over the display of plain human stupidity & laziness, I stood there, looking. I didn't feel squeamish or grossed out, I felt... interested. I still felt sad, but I looked at rib cages & mandibles & tendons & thought, "Huh. Deer have floating ribs, too."

It's a transformation, I tell you. It's what I was born to do.


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