It must be spring. The sun came out on Monday, and Catdog and I ran for the back yard like we were escaping from prison. We frittered away the afternoon just lying there soaking up the warmth like two lizards on a hot rock. Just a week ago there was snow and sleet and ice, and then, just like that, the sky turned blue and came to life, and the daffodils turned their faces to the sun and unfurled their beautiful selves. I put on a hat and just sat there and read an entire book while Catdog snuffled around in the grass and then sprawled out to sleep. In the evening, the frogs took up their musical peeping, and we left the windows wide, wide open to the fresh air. There is nothing at all like sleeping beside an open window in the springtime, when the tender breeze is cold on my face and the quilts are tucked up soft and tight underneath my chin. I smile in my sleep and dream about a meadow filled with daisies.
In other knitting news, I started this wool colorwork yoke—the pattern is here—a week or so ago, when it was still snowing. I have no illusions that I won’t need it again before long, but somehow, it seems a lot less pressing.