Today, on this eve of New Year's Eve, the day is bright and quite cold. Snow, forecast for New Year's Day, would be a lovely beginning for the New Year. While autumn is my favorite season, winter is a close second. Earlier this week I thought I had little write. My knitting looked much the same but then I looked over my notes about Season, the word I chose last year at this time and decided to post some rambling thoughts.
Season wound itself through 2021. Seasoning ordinary days during the pandemic wasn't much different than in the time before Covid. Gratitude and appreciation are the keys. I considered the seasons of the year as well as seasons in my life, including age, joy, friendships, and grief. This holiday season felt different. I unwrapped one day at a time and enjoyed a calmer quieter December.
The four seasons continue to enrich ordinary days. When I read Winter World, I learned more about strategies animals and plants use to survive winter weather. In Wintering, Katherine May reflected on turning inward to care for one's self and others. Winter as a fallow resting time has always appealed to me. During the summer, I read about a season of unlikely friendship and aging in The Narrowboat Summer. Currently I'm reading an old book, Stillmeadow Sampler by Gladys Tabor structured around the four seasons. Tabor wrote several books of memoir/nature notes about life on her Connecticut farm. First published in 1950, this book is a glimpse of a different time and has been on my reading list for a number of years. Last September while visiting in Connecticut, my daughter found a library copy for me. There, in a few quiet moments, I read part of the Autumn section. Recently I ordered a used copy to own and reread at leisure. The four seasons are a paradox. The turning of the seasons with predictable changes in light, growth, temperature, wind direction, bird and animal behavior comfort me. Yet each season brings differences including the ever changing light at sunset.
My knitting looks much the same but this red shawl is almost finished. I have enjoyed it immensely. I like knitting with a soft alpaca and the red, with a slight undertone of blue, is my favorite shade of red. Last week I wondered if I would finish by the end of the year but decided not to knit crazily to do so. Yesterday afternoon I put on a few rows while waiting for my sister and brother-in-law to arrive for dinner. By the way, we had a lovely time together. After they left, I finished the lace section. Eight rows of the garter stitch edging and the bind-off remain. I average four of these long rows each evening. We have no New Year's Eve plans except to watch a livestream of The Last Blast by The Plymouth Brass, a festive concert with a wide variety of music. We have attended these concerts in person but will not do so this year. The quality of music at First Plymouth is exceptional. The Abendmusik choir has toured internationally.
This shawl has been my evening companion as I listened to The Madness of Crowds. The two are going to be forever entwined in my memory. I think this novel one of Penny's best. It captures the edgy times in which we live.
A day late, I'll link with Kat and the Unravelers. Thanks to Kat for this marker in my week and a place to write about knitting and books with others who enjoy the same.
Onward we go toward 2022. "To everything there is a season . . ."