wool, glorious wool

Foster's new mittens

Look! I remembered to take a photo of the mitts I made for Foster before they became filthy and soaked. It was close, though; he was on his way out when I screeched, “WAIT!”

When I think of all the knitwear I’ve doled out over the years without ever thinking to take a photo first…sigh. Oh well.

And look again!

Foster hiding behind new mittens

Bonus shot of his new hat. I’m finally learning.

an embarrassment of eggs

Our lovely young ladies have been defying my expectations and laying like champs all winter, even through the darkest, coldest days. I know the day will come when they go moulty or moody or broody and slow down or, gulp, even stop laying for a while so I’m appreciating every egg they gift us, but at the same time it can be a bit overwhelming.

With nine hens, we usually get eight eggs per day – although there have been a few days when all nine laid – which means about 56 eggs per week. So we’ve been eating lots and lots of fried eggs, scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs and French toast. We’ve given dozens away to the neighbours, to co-workers, to my parents. And yet, as of this moment, our egg count is over 80 (that’s 50 in the bowl above) and the ladies haven’t even laid yet today.

Anybody want some eggs? Free-range, lovingly tended, very reasonably priced. Anyone?

she won’t brag, so I will

Here’s a wet-haired Anna with the scarf she knitted – all on her own – for Papa (my Dad) for Christmas.  She made one for Jam (my Mom) too, out of a beautiful hand-painted alpaca blend, but it got away before I could snap a picture.  There were a lot of handmade things exchanged here during my one month Journey into the Heart of Darkness (the, um, cold) so maybe we should have a photo session this afternoon.

The good news for Anna is that both Papa and Jam loved their scarves. So much, in fact, that Papa has requested a matching toque. Hmpf. He’s never requested a knitted anything from me.

Sniffle.

at home with the Georgians

“Prize winning author Professor Amanda Vickery sets her sights on the golden age of homemaking – the 18th Century Georgian era. Through dramatic reconstructions, she traces the story of the unique relationship Britons enjoy with their homes, arguing that the Georgians’ obsession with decor helped to redefine the parts played by men and women in British society.”

Very enjoyable – I give it five chihuahuas out of five.