I'm so interested in the light right now. Here at the end of the year, the sun is so low in the southern sky that it seems to come in sideways, and it makes dramatic patterns everywhere. It bathes the catdog in a spotlight. She sat there just like that, without flicking an ear, for several long minutes while first I marveled at the interesting composition, then went to get the camera, fiddled with the settings, clicked away. Still as a stone. What a pro.
I really am enjoying this darkening season. I'm taking the doc's advice, and trying to appreciate its weird and desperate beauty. In any other year, these skeletal trees, black against that threatening sky, would have made my heart plunge, but not this year. It is good medicine, this trying stuff.
I started a sock, knit all the way to the heel flap, blissfully unmindful of the fact that it was turning out as dense and sturdy as a bulletproof vest. Since socks don't need to stand up on their own, I unraveled it all the way back to the beginning. Happily, I love to knit, and socks are right up there among the most fun things of all to knit. Onward.
In the face of that, I betook myself to my happy place (coffee solves a lot of my problems) and brought some Malabrigo with me. Oh Malabrigo! I am moved practically to poetry by that yarn. It has light in it, too, somehow, spun right in.