I finally sat down on the couch the other day: the bread dough I'd just kneaded for Jeremy was rising by the fire, lentils for the soup were soaking, wood was stacked in the woodpile, and at last I could just sit and snuggle my boy, who'd been slowly recovering. Then it started snowing.
From my comfortable couch, I stared at the pretty snowflakes out of the window, and all I could think was, "Oh, no, not snow!". I got up, put on heavy clothes, took scissors and a measuring jug, and went down the lane to where the town council had left a heavy bag of rock salt earlier on in the week, to be used to melt road ice.
And as the snow fell and the icy winds blew, I started sprinkling a little salt here and there on the steep lane that leads up to our house, where a little ice can make the path impassable. It's amazing how warming can be to walk up and down the steep lane repeatedly, refilling a small jug and strewing salt. But my hands were still freezing.
My hands were freezing because I own no gloves! So, as I was salting the path, I made a mental inventory of the family's gloves and mittens. When I was done, I went back to the house, got thread and yarn and some felt wool scraps from Rebecca's jacket, sat back on the couch next to Jeremy, and started a pair of mittens for Rebecca.
I started with a silhouette of her hand, and worked out the design gradually, as I figured out how to make the best use of the materials I had available.
A small crochet flower, a little free-form chain stitching, blanket stitching all around, and a crocheted white wool ribbed wrist band: in just over half an hour I'd made the first mitten!
The second mitten, however, is still unfinished, sitting on a corner of the table. If only I could find another half hour ...
