The steady clicking of my knitting needles, the soft music of the wind chimes. Ordinary sounds for me, yet, they always sound like the sweetest music. The wind is carrying the smoke from the chimney up into the tops of the Red Oak and the Juniper tree beside the house, veiling them in the softest shade of gray. My legs crossed, lap full of denim from the folds of my long full skirt, a ball of wool bouncing as I continually demand more of it with each stitch. A nice warm cowl for next winter is being created to match the barn bonnet I made this past autumn. Colors picked when Thanksgiving turkey was still being eaten for leftovers. The colors matched the season and so it seems a bit strange now to use them. They don't match the promise of springtime, just around the corner. But, I am not one to waste good wool so, this time, the seasons and wool color will have to conflict a bit.
this morning we had three kinds of doves at the feeders, Morning Doves, White Winged Doves and Inca Doves, which is the one in the photo