Stitching Toward Spring

Hello Gentle Readers. This morning I saw a little sparrow with a beak full of grass. She flew into a bird house in the neighbor's yard. As Emily Dickinson wrote, "Hope is a thing with feathers." She survived the bitter cold and now builds a nest. What a difference a week makes. Saturday our temps began to climb. Monday and Tuesday brought highs of sixty five degrees. I hear more bird song when I walk. The soft changes of February light are so welcome. It isn't Spring yet but in spite of all of us, it isn't far off.  

Wednesday is the day to join Kat and company for Unraveled Wednesday. Besides the handspun scarf, my other knitting is a tentative project. Inspired by Mary's sweater, I cast on the Giddy Up Sweater using handspun Corriedale. The yarn is on the lightweight wide and also slightly wooly. The construction is new to me and interesting to knit. I plan to work an inch or so past the point where the front and back are joined for the body. Then I'll block it, try it on and decide if it is a go. 

I completed more pages in my stitch journal. Thank you for all your lovely compliments about the stitching. Here is my version of K3N's heart. Behind it is a Willa Cather quote about love that is a favorite of my sister and I. The quote comes from Death Comes for the Archbishop and begins "Where there is great love, there are always miracles . . ." 

I love thinking about hands, the miraculous combination of bones and other tissue that can do all kinds of things. Hands transmit and receive touch. We lend a hand to others and on and on. Once I drew around the hands of my extended family and used them as quilting patterns in the border of a quilt. As my parents and brother have passed away, I am thankful to have that record but I digress. Since I file patterns and templates from my quilts (as in I rarely throw anything away) I had a file folder of hand patterns. 

This little one is my daughter's toddler hand. Behind this piece is a quote from Women Who Run with the Wolves, that goes something like this, "There is hogan on a Navajo reservation that has a red hand beside the door. It means, we are all safe here."

I am enjoying the poetry anthology, You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World, edited by Ada Limon. Although some poems appeal to me more than others, I appreciate the diversity of poets and landscapes represented. As more than one review notes, our landscape is changing dramatically and this is a modern version of poems about nature and location. Again, I found this volume by chance in a display at my local library. 

How are you fairing this last week in February?  What's bringing you hope?