Unraveled Wednesday: 12/3/25

I’m happily joining Kat and the Unravelers today, with some slipper progress. It feels as if time has been speeding up this fall, and once I turned the calendar page to December, and realized that there are only 22 days left until Christmas, I knew I needed to get knitting in earnest on Justin's slippers. (Ravelry link)

I've finished the first one and started on the sole of the second. It's relatively simple construction so I'm sure I can get the second one done in plenty of time. I was concerned that they might not be big enough while I was knitting, but they are actually quite large. 

You can't tell exactly from this picture on my size 8 feet but they should definitely fit Justin's gigantic feet. It remains to be seen whether he'll wear them but they should keep him warm if he does.

 

I haven't knit on the blue Hitchhiker for a week, but I did get the soft gray Silk Road Light back out of the stash, thinking that I might actually cast on a second Hitchhiker. I haven't done it yet but two Hitchhikers are better than one. 

We've got wintry weather and I had a wintry theme in my reading this week. The Land in Winter is a beautifully written, quietly observed novel that feels less like a traditional narrative and almost like a series of finely rendered snapshots. Set during the brutal winter of 1962 in England, Andrew Miller brings two neighboring couples, Eric and Irene, Bill and Rita, into sharp focus just as the world around them freezes into stillness. Their lives, already shaped by unspoken disappointments and the quieter strains of marriage, become even more exposed once the snow isolates them from the outside world.

I’ll admit that early on, I wondered where the novel was going once it opened with an isolated incident that I soon forgot about and the characters were introduced. After finishing the book, I’m still not entirely sure whether Miller was more interested in crafting these exquisitely written moments than in building a larger arc around them. The timeline feels secondary to the vividness of each scene, sunlight on snow, a half-heard conversation, the subtle shift of a relationship. And yet, that choice has its own quiet appeal.

What the novel avoids is melodrama. Even when old tensions rise or unexpected discoveries come to the surface, the tone remains understated, almost hushed, as if the cold has muted everything but the essentials. The result is a story that moves gently but with intention, rewarding readers who appreciate mood, atmosphere, and emotional nuance more than plot-driven momentum.

Miller’s prose is undeniably gorgeous, and his attention to the minutiae of daily life is often mesmerizing. While the book didn’t fully sweep me away, its delicate restraint and beautifully textured writing make it a memorable winter read. Three and a half stars rounded up.

Winter: The Story of a Season is a warm, contemplative wander through the season’s landscapes, both literal and emotional. Val McDermid proves she’s just as compelling in creative nonfiction as she is in crime fiction. This slim volume feels like settling in beside a fire: quiet, cozy, and full of small delights.

McDermid moves seamlessly between present-day reflections and childhood memories, capturing everything from the frosty streets of Edinburgh to the bracing Scottish coast, from Bonfire Night to Up Helly Aa. Along the way, I learned a surprising amount, like the fact that snowdrops come in more than two hundred varieties, something I had absolutely no idea about. I also picked up some great Scottish vocabulary: dreich (dreary weather), rouille (sauce made from garlic, olive oil, and cayenne or chili pepper), and shoogly (wobbly or unsteady). These little linguistic gems added charm and texture to her storytelling.

What stands out most is McDermid’s affection for winter’s rituals, some fading, some evolving, and her gentle reminder that this season can be a time of rest and creativity rather than simply endurance. The book never rushes; it invites you to pause, breathe, and appreciate the small mysteries of cold, dark months.

While Winter is a quieter book than some readers might expect, it’s a deeply engaging one, and it left me hoping McDermid will publish more nonfiction. She clearly has a gift for it.

A lovely, thoughtful read, perfect for anyone who enjoys reflective seasonal writing or simply wants to hunker down with something comforting on a cold night. Four and a half stars rounded up.

Thank you to NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on January 13, 2026. Just a bit of a wait until publication day and it will definitely still be winter!

What are you making and reading this week?