Skip to main content

Snowed In, Snowed Under

I like being snowed in - paradoxically, because I'm a wanderer by nature. But in reasonable (read: small) doses, the blanket of forced calm caused by a good snow brings a sort of peace.

There's so much you can get done when you're trapped indoors and neither the necessity nor the distraction of leaving is available to you - which is probably where the appeal lies for me. I enjoy doing a task from beginning to end without interruption (whether that's finishing a cup of tea while it's still hot, reading a book without once putting it down, writing a letter with no awkward handwriting shifts from being written over the course of multiple days, or knitting a project from cast on to bind off).

But after a few days, wanderlust kicks in and I begin to go stir-crazy. Brooklyn and Tobin have helped me see the adventure in a dusting of snow on one's own porch this past weekend, though - it was adorable to watch Brooklyn's ardent desire to touch and explore, and Tobin's careful observation-at-a-distance.

Sometimes I feel "snowed in" (or is it snowed under?) with daily life - the never-ending parade of seeming sameness that is managing a home and two small children. It's a process, learning to find the wonder in the ordinary every-day. but I'm learning that I'm more likely to notice it if I slow down and bend over - the extraordinary can often be found reflected in a pair of storm-grey or deep-brown eyes, softly spoken of in a small voice that tends to skip the letters L and R.

2342. Happy mail
2343. Adam getting home safely in the slick, even with a detour in the wrong direction to pick up something for the next day
2344. A warm, dry, safe home
2345. Brooklyn's utter delight over the snow
2346. and Tobin's cat-like caution
2347. Christian Brothers replacing the EGR valve in Adam's truck (again) for free (again), because it keeps going out
2348. The library being open (if a few hours late because of the roads)
2349. Time to go to the library and the knit shop all together before Adam had to leave for an afternoon appointment
2350. Lots and lots of knitting
2351. Not falling down stairs while wearing Tobin (I made a valiant attempt)
2352. Adam doing the grocery shopping for the week while I took a nap
2353. Actually getting to bed early (usually trying results in staying up late, instead)
2354. Finding a nightlight for Brooklyn
2355. Playing Chutes and Ladders with Adam
2356. An unhurried shower


Popular posts from this blog

31 Days of Unraveling Designs

It's that time of year again... the 31 Days writing challenge starts today! Bloggers from all over will be writing every day of the month of October on the topic of their choosing. This will be my fourth year participating - the first year I did 7 for 31, and spent a month going through Jen Hatmaker's book 7. The second year I did 31 Days of Sustainable Dwelling, and wrote about local and fair trade living. Last year I was busy but still wanted to participate, so I went the easy route with 31 Days of Everyday Beautiful.

This year I'm diving into my greatest passion: knitting! I'll spend this month looking at past designs and talking about the inspiration behind them, so there will be plenty of regular life mixed in with the stitching - and there may be discount codes for the patterns that I write about. You'll just have to read and see!

Pattern index:

Pageturner Mitts
Hogwarts House Tie
Urban Artemis
Graffiti for Humanity
Love Out Loud
Strange Jacket


In order to change your knitting, you must first change yourself. I've lost track of how many times I've said that, or how many people I've said it to. Frustrated new knitters wondering why their work is loose or tight or uneven or really anything less than perfect. But something I love about knitting is that it's a record of your inner dialogue. That swatch knit at the yarn store table with a cozy cup of coffee and a helpful (and more experienced) knitter nearby is going to be a lot more relaxed than the sweater begun a week later while sitting next to a hospital bed - just like the knitter.

Unfortunately, this also applies to my own knitting. For years, I was apparently unaffected by the shifts and turmoils in my own life, so I assumed that I was exempt from the rule - when the reality was, in fact, that I wasn't really experiencing any of those on anything deeper than a surface level because everything was deadened by depression. When I finally started to really…


A few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of replacing the traditional list of resolutions with a single word. It appealed to me - I am not a big list person, but I love language and words and meanings and etymology and metaphor and... ahem. Ennyhoo. I liked the idea.
I've never chosen the word. It's always presented itself to me - and last year was no different. Pacific was very insistent, even though I tried to argue with it. Pacific? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with that?
But I accepted it, and I'm glad I did. I learned about depth and calm, about storm and nurture, about faith and adventure - and about the unstoppable ocean of God's grace, that overwhelms to fill and cleanse and bring blessings unasked.
So I'm bidding pacific a very fond farewell, and welcoming spark and whatever lessons it would like to bring. I invited it in with a copper wire punctuated with tiny lights and wrapped around my mood board, and I've got an empt…