I pulled my knitting from the basket and stitched another inch or so onto the second sleeve of my muted-purple cardigan, the one I’ve been knitting for what feels like ten years. That’s not true, of course, though another knitter would nod with compassion. Sleeve island is a place many projects have been lost to. I’d like to have it finished in the coming weeks, especially as I am in need of another wool sweater or two and it is difficult to find them at retailers, and much to the contrary of my former life, good, reliable thrifting is not a thing here. Granted, I have found a favorite Irish wool sweater and a perfect fitting pair of Johnson Wool pants at our local thrift, but in five years, those are the only two items worth noting. Sweaters are my favorite thing to purchase second hand because if they look nice used and already washed a few times, they should continue to wear well for me. That’s always proven true.
Loaded baked potato soup for dinner, and an autumn reading of First Person Rural. I ordered a few titles from Thrift Books. Armed with a new pair of reading glasses, I’m ready for a long winter with a stack to read.
Smoke from the chimney on this cool morning. The most comforting scent to accompany outside chores. Days are still warm enough, but it all begins to change this weekend. I hope to dig the rest of the potatoes ahead of the rain, but I’m afraid given the other things on the calendar this week, that will be a miracle. We are not alone in this. Every hill farm throughout this state has their list of autumn chores tucked close. It’s a little early, so the sense of optimism lingers from farm to farm. But deep down, we all know that at best, we’ll complete 75% of our list. And we’ll quickly forget about that which remains until sometime next April, when the melting snow reveals what we left behind. There are many perks to season-long snow covered fields: among them, you really do forget about what you couldn’t finish in autumn. At least for a little while. Everyone deserves a break like that.