Yesterday, when the sun was shining and it was time to take the cotton coverlets off the bed and replace them with wool blankets, when something more than bird song was needed to convince the soul that in spite of it being the last day of October and now brighter an hour earlier in the morning, to assure the spirit that November could be a perfectly fine month in spite of being darker an hour earlier in the afternoon, something more was needed. So I strolled through stash and took out the skein of "ruby red" handspun silk and wool and mohair, the skein spun and dyed in Mitchell, Nebraska by Brown Sheep Company (isn't that a delightful name!). Took it from the handspun wool basket and held it in my hands and looked at it and decided it wasn't "ruby red", it was "contentedly cranberry." Thought - "scarf". Chose the cut-down needles with knobs of raw fleece for ends. Started a scarf on eight stitches in the old lace faggot pattern. As it grows from my hands it will twirl and gladden me as the orange scarf I made like this gladdens me with its twirl as I wear it. Then I took the UFO that was not pleasing me from the workbasket and slid it off the needles and tossed it into the garden. Took the cotton covers off the beds and put the handknit bedspreads on instead, one made by me, one by someone else. Went outdoors into the sun and listened to birdsong.
This morning I noticed that the wool-loving cat next door (I assume it was he) had taken the tossed piece of knitting (it was the scarf started from the random ball of wool) from the garden, was transporting it elsewhere (this time toward my house, not his, which was unusual) and it had snagged on the steps and was spread across the cement walkway. The wind and rain had done a great job of 'blocking' it. I still didn't like it: tossed it back into the garden. It looks quite lovely on the neck of the earth.