When life gives you a nasty March blizzard, sit beside your cozy hearth and stitch quilt blocks. If you have no hearth [goodness, get one immediately] sit beside the furnace vent or something, anything. In between long stretches of plain knitting, I made these while we watched (too much) special edition storm coverage on tv, watched Mike Seidel just about get blown over into the big lake. We stood at the window, gawping at the apocalyptic amounts of snow drifting up in our neighbor’s driveway, while the wind scoured the grass clean—why does it do that? How does it know to put a three-foot drift right behind the back door, but leave the yard bare? This morning, as he helped us dig ourselves out [that guy is getting a pie or something, I just adore him] he told me there is a drift behind his garage “this high” and held his hand above both our heads. I am just so fascinated by the dang weather, I don’t know. Anyway, the sun came out again today, and as I plowed my way to the henhouse this morning, they squawked and flapped at me, so mad, indignant, heads poking out the door flap, malice in their eyes. They have totally had it. I cooed at them and gave them corn and fresh lettuce, and they looked at me sideways before they ate it, like That’s RIGHT you’re giving me a snack. Oh, you better beLIEVE you’re bringing me a treat right now. And then, there will be an egg. Those little gals are such troupers.
I’m halfway to a quilt top with these. I mean, already? Really? It has been no work at all.