The sugar maple in front of the Chapel at Conn turns the most beautiful shade of pink this time of year. It’s not really pink, of course, but the yellows and the reds of its leaves combine in such a way that it really is ablaze with color.

You don’t get anything like that down here.

Has it turned pink? Has it already gone past? Have its leaves fallen? A fresh wave of homesickness washes over me.

Three beautiful things from the past week:

1. In honor of Museum Day, the Smithsonian offered their basic membership for a mere $12 a year. Since membership automatically nets you a copy of their monthly magazine, I have to say that’s an amazing deal (and a delightful surprise, since I only went into borrow their bathroom during the National Book Festival).

2. The weather in the Pacific Northwest has been rainy and conducive to fungus growth, so Rudi’s dad called up last weekend to let us know we should expect a box this week. It arrived in time for last night’s dinner and was filled with a couple pounds of chanterelles, a mushroom known for its taste, its yellow color, and its price. Rudi cooked up a simple mushroom omelet for dinner — and it was utterly delicious.

3. Two days ago, I began to worry that I wasn’t going to have quite enough yarn to finish the sock I’d been knitting. So last night, I decided I’d better find the leftover from the first sock. (If it’s more than two inches long, I tend to save it…) I peeked into the notions bag where scraps often end up. I dumped out the knitting basket. I went through every container in the pie safe. As panic began to set in (actually, it was more like resigned despair, since I knew that in order to fix this problem, I’d have to undo the first sock’s toe and knit them both in a different yarn), I decided to check the notions bag one more time. I caught sight of a pink piece of yarn — there it was! But would it be enough? It wasn’t much more than a yard… Ultimately, the toe was a bit shorter than planned and I held my breath as I Kitchnered the toe closed, but I made it. And the yarn from the cast on will be used to used to fix the gusset hole, leaving me, by my guess, with less than three inches of yarn total remaining from the two skeins I bought. That’s cutting it close!

I don’t have anything on the needles right now.

Admit it — you just gave a little gasp right then, didn’t you?

Strictly speaking, of course, it’s not entirely true. There are a couple of wraps on big gahonkin’ needles tucked away, waiting for it to really cool off again. I mean, they’re mohair. That’s just not 80 degree knitting.

Oh, and there is that half-finished washcloth that I saw when I went into the knitting basket tonight….

There are several projects not yet done: The Daisy baby sweater that needs another sleeve. The purse I knit up earlier this week that needs to be blocked and assembled. The sock I finished tonight that needs its end sewn in and the hole in its gusset minimized.

There are projects in the wings: A second blue sock. A reknit hat. Socks. Christmas presents.

But there’s nothing on the needles to take with me to work tomorrow. How disturbing is that? Let’s hope I don’t resort to drastic measures like this knitter.

And tomorrow night? You’ll find me hunkered down on the couch with a new project on my needles and the Mets game on tv. We apparently just eked out a win in this afternoon’s game, but a win is a win is a win in the playoffs. I’m sure tomorrow’s game will be great!

Two years after I learned to knit, I still am still learning new techniques. The current non-sock project involves learning cables and buttonholes. Cables were surprisingly easy to grasp, if a bit harder to tink (unknit), but since I was working with bulky wool, the stitches weren’t in a hurry to run away on me.

The buttonhole was a little trickier. I understood the concept: bind off stitches on one side of your fabric; pick them up on the flip side. But I just couldn’t grasp the reality of how to cast on stitches purlside. I tried a couple of my own ideas; no dice. I looked online and didn’t understand what people meant. My frustration level neared dizzying heights as I stomped back and forth between and the couch and the computer during commercial breaks last night.

Finally, I consulted the library. And you know what? Debbie Stoller’s Stitch and Bitch made me understand in three seconds. “Oh! That’s what they were all trying to say!” Yes — a purl stitch is just the backside of a knit stitch. So just flip the whole stupid project over and cast on the two stitches knitwise and then wrap the yarn back around your last stitch before you put in on the needle and resume purling on the wrong side of your work. (Debbie explains it much better on page 70 of her book.)

So thanks, Debbie, for once again helping me understand what in the world I needed to do to move on with the project. Your book consistently helps me out of tight jams in a clear manner. I am grateful.

Oh, and my project? The yarn should come off the needles tonight and might even get sewn up, depending on how long the cabled portion needs to block.

Peer pressure really does work. You all pretty much said I should take a stab at writing a novel during National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo).

I still have no ideas for a novel and the clock is ticking. So if anyone has any plot devices, settings, characters, characteristics, themes, etc., that they would like to suggest and wouldn’t mind my stealing using, please drop them into the comments. Clearly any use within the novel will merit a public thank you.

I am signed up and ready to go on the site as “soe.” Please feel free to include me as a writing buddy. And if you’d like to be my buddy, leave me a comment here so I can link to you.

Jenn? Sarah? This would be your public invitation to join the fun…

I don’t normally root against the Mets, but I’d like to see them lose today. I want Nationals manager Frank Robinson to have a win for the final game of his 50-year career.

Robinson was named National League Rookie of the Year in 1956 when he came up with Cincinnati as an outfielder. He was later shifted to first base. His years with the team were marked by his hard play and his hot temper. He spent a decade with the Reds, during which time he earned a Gold Glove and was named League MVP.

He then was traded to Baltimore, where he spent the next six years of his career. He led the team to their first pennants and World Series. He became the first player to win the League MVP Award in both leagues when he was named the AL’s MVP. He also was voted MVP of the All-Star game, the World Series, and the Major League. In addition, he was presented with the Babe Ruth Award and was the penultimate winner of the Triple Crown for batting. He also was awarded the Hickok Belt for being the top athlete in any sport in 1966.

Robinson played for five more seasons, shuffling from the O’s to the Dodgers to the Angels.

In 1974, the Indians acquired him on waivers with the understanding that he would become a player-manager (and the first African American manager in Major League Baseball). He finally retired from playing in 1976 as a 41-year-old 12-time All-Star. He continued on as manager for the Indians for another year.

He returned in 1981 to coach the Giants for four years before taking another three years off.

In 1982, Robinson was inducted into the Hall of Fame.

In 1988, he took over the helm for his old club, Baltimore, for four years. In 1989, he was named Manager of the Year.

In 2002, after a decade away from the game, Robinson came back one last time, to coach the Montreal Expos. He moved south with them to become the first manager of the new Washington Nationals last year, where he led them on a fairy-tale first half of the season. Injuries plagued the team, however, and the second half of 2005 and all of 2006 has seen the team not play as well as one might have hoped. The team’s lack of non-MLB ownership was also seen as a contributing factor to their lack of success because they were not able to be as competitive when pursuing free agents in the off-season.

Robinson, who won a Presidential Medal of Freedom last November, never complained, though, and was seen by many of his players as a tough, but fair and loving authority figure. A former Director of Discipline for MLB, he didn’t tolerate messing around and wasn’t afraid to yank players if he felt they were messing around or dogging it. But he was also remarkably supportive to players who needed it and players speak of him with tears in their eyes.

No, Robinson is not a fantastic manager when you look at the numbers. He is sub-.500 with each of the teams he’s coached. But he was respected by players and fans alike, and I would have liked to give him one more year with the team to prove what he could do with the independent ownership’s acquisitions in the off-season.

And if the support for him I saw at RFK Stadium Friday night is any indication, I’m not the only one who thought that.

So good luck, today, Frank. Do not hobble gentle into that dark night. I hope you beat the Mets. And saying that doesn’t come easily.