Winter is here. I'm still resisting a little, though I try not to. I want to love it, with it's sideways wind and little pellets of ice hitting me in the face like a thousand tiny knives. Winter, show me your appeal, truly! I will be your servant! Sigh. I light candles and imagine fair isle ski sweaters and hot cocoa with whipped cream...mmm....the catdog scoots up onto the sofa, and sprawls her whole toasty self on my feet, which is so nice of her, and wedges her nose behind my knee. Gives a long, rattly sigh and goes inert. No dog has ever been as happy to snuggle as this catdog is. I can't believe our luck that we've found each other.
I am crocheting, a giant granny square using up the scraps--and I mean to actually use them up, too, even those teensy leftovers, which is going to mean a million ends to weave in, but let's not think about that just now. Obviously, leftovers and scraps are continuously regenerating themselves, so it's lucky there can never be too many granny square blankets, am I right? What is it about the grannies, anyway, that make them so appealing in so many ways? They have the comforting repetition of simple dc stitches, and the bohemian virtues of thrift and color, so abundantly. Goodness, I love granny squares. I try to crochet other motifs, for the sake of variety, but none are as wonderful as the original, so I come back to it, again and again. Granny, you are the bomb. And so, another big blanket begins.