lapful of wool

It's fall here. Honestly fall. Last night we lit the woodstove for the first time in ages. Really lit it. Not just, for a few hours lit it, but lit it for the night, loading as much wood in as we can to keep it going for the night. This morning the air in the village smelled like woodsmoke and cold. By afternoon it will be warm enough for short sleeved shirts again but right now it's scarves and socks and the fire.

The leaves are turning fast. Up close they still look green but if you look over the hills at a distance you can see they have a yellow and red wash to them. This weekend is the harvest dinner. Apple cider and squash casseroles and mismatched tablecloths and the sun setting behind the mountains. Last year we didn't bring sweaters with us. It was so cold, but too much fun to leave. This year the car will be full of extra sweaters and socks and boots and coats and jugs to bring home extra apple cider in.

Evelyn's sweater, her Christmas sweater, is underway. I love knitting sweaters for her because they fly off the needles. Fast knitting, but still substantial knitting. This year she is getting owlet. I've been wanting to knit it for so long, I kind of want to knit one for myself, in fact. Maybe if I ever get all my alpaca spun up... But not till after Christmas, too much knitting to do for others until then.

Last night was my favorite kind of night. Fire, music, a book - not sure if it's a good book yet or not, but still - and knitting in my lap to keep me warm.