Reed turns three in a week and a half. It is a very exciting time for him. There is lots of discussion about his party and all that it will mean to be three.
There’s a lot to cover.
He was was drifting off to sleep the other night when he asked dreamily, On my birthday, will you bring cakes to school? All the other kids bring cakes on their birthdays.
Yes my dear child, I will bring cupcakes to school on your birthday. Fear not.
It seems as if Fall has passed and Winter has set in. The leaves have drifted from their branches, ready to rejoin the earth. Our kiwis, last of the winter fruit, have been harvested. Collected by tiny fingers and lugged indoors for ripening by one little person, determined to do it all by himself. The first hard frost has come and gone, promised to return again tonight.
We bundle up for our walks now. A heavier coat. Yesterday there were even mittens. Those of you in northern lands may think us overreacting to such a mild cold. We do garden in Zone 8 after all. There are worse things.
I try to get into the spirit of winter, I do. Before Reed was old enough to be mobile, I would light candles here and there once the sun set. Now I don’t out of fear that he will burn the house down. Accidentally of course.
I am constantly overhearing myself mutter I hate winter. I am not sure if am more concerned with the fact that I am talking to myself a lot or my chronic negativity on the matter. There just isn’t enough knitwear to warm the insides of my bones. I feel like I am always cold. Especially my hands.
These are the times when I fantasize about my tropical knitting colony. An isle of knitters sipping lime fizzes while listening to waves lap against the sandy shore.
It gets me through the hard days.