Winter Slow Zone

The big moon came up on that last night of January, and as I caught sight of it through the trees in my backyard, I felt my heart rise with joy.  I smiled at it shining down, my old constant friend.

I breathe the air, and these trees breathe with me.  I know it sounds corny, but I think it is true.  I feel it is true.  These old trees, older than me.  This old moon, older than me.  And I, temporary, move beneath them and feel grateful to share some time and air and space with them.

I made another Banff hat, a larger one with a longer band at the bottom.  This time I paid attention to color dominance (thanks Mrs. M!) when I held the yarn so my tree branches are better connected and everything is a little more even.

My second little rabbit died. She lost the use of her hind legs and could not sit up without me holding her.  The vet said she and my other little rabbit were probably holding each other up more than I realized.  Sweet girl.  Both of these rabbits had comfortable long lives.

It's foggy and wet today.  I've knitted up a few swatches to try to get gauge for a sweater I am going to try.  I'm in the winter slow zone for sure.  All I want to do is sit and knit and read and watch detective programs in my pajamas.  Drink warm drinks. Stay under covers. Hibernate.