One Row

The one thing I was looking forward to about chaperoning the senior retreat this weekend was having some time to knit.  We rode school buses out to Camp Windhover, where the eighteen year-olds got to be eight-year-old campers again, roasting marshmallows, staying up late in their cabins telling stories and secrets by flashlight, swimming and splashing in the lake, playing red rover and capture the flag, and sailing down the zip line.  Not being much of a lake swimmer or a zip liner myself, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to sit and knit something simple that would let me keep an eye on the kids at the same time.

I knit one row.

I did keep an eye on the kids, although I didn't need to - they were exceptionally well-behaved eighteen-year-old-eight-year-olds (the school bus was not well-behaved, but that's another story).  There was so much else to look at, though, and that's what kept me from knitting.  I looked up, and saw this.

I looked down and saw this.

I looked out toward the lake and saw this.

I looked at the sky and saw this.

It was the last glimpse of blue sky.  When the rain and thunder started, we retreated the the cabin porches, and that's when I finally knit a row, sitting on the swing and listening to the rain fall on the leaves and tin roof over head.

Now there's only seventeen squares and twenty-four rows to go!