Don't worry be hydrangea

I may have a tiny bit of a "hydrangea problem", as my friends with cameras call it. Mine are almost all blue; we have very acidic soil here, as the constant rains wash out most of the whatever ups the pH and dissolve a lot of things like carbonates in the soil. Good for blueberries and blue hydrangeas. The only pink one is one in a pot I have, and it is slowly going purple.

This week. 

Let me try again. This week, this month, this summer, has been high up on the crazy-o-meter. I should stop being coy about this.

This picture is more iconic, but I'd argue that mine was more accurate, at least in the summer.

We are moving to San Francisco.

Yes, the city. We figured if we're going to all the bother to move to the Bay Area, we might as well try the urban thing out before we're too old & crochety to appreciate it.

So we've been traveling down trying to get an idea of where we might want to live, checking out the neighborhoods and what's scary and what's walkable, and so many other things. We did finally find a place to rent, and now my anxiety needle has almost hit the far right end of the dial worrying that everything will work out with the deposit and the rent and everything. I am trying hard not to worry about it. It isn't working. My, it's another hydrangea picture!

Also, I am Ms. September Dyer in the Twisted Shawlette Club, and I am running around in full beheaded chicken mode dyeing and skeining and labeling. I've been out of town frequently so I've had a less not-at-the-regular-job time to complete them. I am almost done. I hope that everyone likes the color; I think the design is beautiful. Of course I am afraid I will get publicly stoned because everyone will despise the colorway. Because that's how my brain works. Thanks, brain.

Why look, a Fall hydrangea (they fade gradually to pink & brown)

I will miss Portland a lot. I will miss my garden and my plants (I can't take any of them with me. California has very strict import rules because of all the agriculture). I will miss the fine beer and the biking without many hills unless I want them, the lovely calm neighborhood, the bursts of sweetness that are Portland like Sunday Parkways and Mill Ends Park. I will miss the warm-hot summer months and the fresh raspberries and blueberries and blackberries, the farmers market I can walk to, which is currently selling me fresh cherries and blueberries and peaches. Damn, I will miss all the great yarn stores and fabric stores.

That said, I'm anticipating all the new things I can find and experience. And I think that for me it's good to shake things up sometimes, try something new. (Frances does not agree but she doesn't know about it yet. urk. Not looking forward to transporting her.)

But meantime my head is trying to worry itself into fine little confetti pieces. Time to try more distractions. Come hell or hibiscus.