The sky is low,
the clouds are mean —
A traveling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him —
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.
- Emily Dickinson
February. And winter has arrived! Although I had recently stated that I had not missed it a bit, I must admit that it is beautiful. And besides, what is better than sitting in your favorite knitting spot with a cup of tea watching the snow fall?
The first sock is almost finished; time for the toe decreases. Knitting on size 1 needles may win some looks of admiration from my buddies on knit night, but it gets a tad boring when they take longer than one week to finish.