This postpones two Sheepthrillers' visit from MA, coming north to wrest riches and find fiber from sheep's warehouses, filling cars with warm snow-whiteness and rainbow's weavings[ed. note: ie, fleece and dyed yarn-goods], infusing the camellia and spreading sweetness [could mean some kind of dye-process or a reference to TEA, qv "The Importance of Caffeine in Fiber Gatherings of the Northeast"]; hardy shoppers, but not fool-hardy, they will wait to try their tires on tarmac, not the glarey glaze of ice and slush...
or I could just be losing it, here. They are suggesting we'll get a foot.
Which could mean I will finish my father's second sock, now up to cuff, and my daughter' second mitten, now nearly down to thumb.
3 comments:
I've always been fascinated by Maine!
Snow here too, although the sky seems to be brightening. Nothing better than to spend the afternoon dyeing some wool.
Knit. Spin. Dye. Knit.
It's the only way.
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