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? 

 

I'll See in a Month or Two

I have bursitis in my hips and they have been aching, stiff, and sore for a long time (as in several years). I have been to two different orthopedic doctors, gotten cortisone shots three or four times, done physical therapy four different times, I do exercises at home, and figured out how to manage the pain on a daily basis (ibuprofen and Diclofenac gel). It's not ideal, but lots of people have chronic conditions, and there really isn't anything else to do. My current orthopod has said that hip replacements won't help, but he can manage the acute pain with cortisone shots and he will refer me to the chronic pain clinic if/when I feel like I need it.

A little while ago I saw an ad for Osteo Bi-Flex and wondered if it really did anything. I've read several studies on the efficacy and the results are honestly all over the map. It has helped in some studies (often patients with knee pain) but shown little to no effect in other studies. So I decided that I needed to order some and try it for myself. I have 60 capsules so I will take one a day and see if there is any difference in a couple months. I don't take any other supplements or vitamins, but decided that a multi-vitamin couldn't hurt. It was hard to find one that didn't have 300% of some vitamins because that's just too much, but this one is a bit more realistic. 

I'll admit that I'm a bit skeptical, but I also did some reading about the placebo effect. Dr. Ted J. Kaptchuk, a professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and director of the Harvard-wide Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter (PiPS) at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, has been studying placebos for more than 20 years. He says, "People can still get a placebo response, even though they know they are on a placebo. You don’t need deception or concealment for many conditions to get a significant and meaningful placebo effect, especially in conditions that are defined by self-observation symptoms like pain." 

That sounds promising to me and I'm giving it a try.  

Tradition

It's important to keep some traditions alive to help ensure feelings of continuity and groundedness. I have a piece of birthday cake for breakfast the day after my birthday and a piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream is my breakfast the day after Thanksgiving. I’ll probably skip the news for a bit, just to hang onto this feeling of contentment a little longer.

I hope your long weekend is off to a delicious and relaxing start!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wishing all who are celebrating a very Happy Thanksgiving, and a very Happy Thursday to those that aren't! I'm grateful for you and that you take time out of your day to read my thoughts and share yours. Thank you!

(I post this same picture every year on Thanksgiving, but it's simply because I like it so much and it says exactly how I feel.)

Unraveled Wednesday: 11/26/25

I’m here (maybe, hopefully, joining Kat) with some actual unraveling for Unraveled Wednesday. After finishing Justin's socks, I knew I needed to finally cast on for a Hitchhiker. I went through my stash, culled and organized it a little bit, and thought these yarns might work nicely. 

I only have one skein of the black & white speckled yarn, but the gray is a delightfully soft blend of baby alpaca, camel hair, cashmere, and silk. I thought this would make something perfect to wear around my neck, but after I cast on and knit twelve teeth, I decided that I really needed more color. So there was a small bit of unraveling, more digging in the stash, and it produced three skeins I had completely forgotten about. They're Wollmeise; I think they go together perfectly, and are providing the color and comfort knitting I wanted. 

 

 

I wound the skeins for Justin's slippers and plan to cast on the day after Thanksgiving, right after I've enjoyed my leftover pie for breakfast. My plans for the weekend are simple and lovely: knitting, reading, and relaxing in my pajamas for a while. No shopping for me!

I read two books this week. I was really looking forward to Winter Stories, especially because I loved Rishøi’s Brightly Shining. She has a gift for writing about people on the margins with tenderness and precision. But while this collection showcases her talent for atmospheric, deeply humane storytelling, I struggled to make an emotional connection with the characters this time around.

Each of the three stories centers on people trying to make their way toward stability, an overwhelmed young mother, a father newly out of prison, and siblings running from a home that no longer feels safe. Rishøi captures their desperation and small hopes with her usual clarity, and in each story a stranger steps in with an act of kindness. Yet those gestures, while meaningful, only make things marginally better, underscoring how fragile and temporary relief can be.

There’s a quiet power in these pieces and moments of real emotional resonance, but for me they never fully added up to the immersive experience I found in Brightly Shining. Readers who appreciate bleak but compassionate realism may find more to hold on to. I admired the craft, but the connection I’d hoped for never quite landed.
This one was three stars for me. 

Thank you to NetGalley and Grove Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on December 2, 2025. There is a Goodreads giveaway if you're interested. 

 

Kat recommended this one and it was well worth reading. Run for the Hills is Kevin Wilson doing what he does best: taking a premise that sounds slightly absurd on the surface and turning it into something surprisingly heartfelt. The novel has his signature blend of offbeat humor, dysfunctional family dynamics, and characters who feel like they’re always one deep breath away from falling apart, but who somehow keep inching toward connection anyway.

The book’s energy is high from the start, almost chaotic at times, and while that momentum is part of its charm, it also makes some sections feel a bit scattered. There were moments when I wished for a little more grounding or emotional depth, especially compared to Wilson’s strongest work. Still, his dialogue snaps, his observations shine, and the way he captures the anxieties of modern life feels both sharp and forgiving.

What ultimately lingers is the tenderness underneath all the eccentricity; Wilson’s gentle insistence that even when everything feels unmanageable, people are worth loving and relationships are worth trying for. Run for the Hills may not be my favorite of his novels, but it’s a funny, affectionate, and consistently engaging read that will appeal to anyone who appreciates Wilson’s particular brand of oddball heart. Three and a half stars rounded up.  

 

What are you making and reading this week? 

Sometimes Monday ...

 ... is a good day for another poem. Yes, it's another one by Barbara Crooker but it felt right to share it for Thanksgiving week. I promise I'll move on to other poets (someday). 

Praise Song

by Barbara Crooker 

Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there's left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn't cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it's all we have, and it's never enough. 

 

Crooker, Barbara. "Praise Song". Radiance. Word Press, 2005. 

 

Here's hoping you can find a reason or two of your own to praise our "crazy fallen world".

A Gathering of Poetry: November 2025

It’s the third Thursday of the month, which means it’s time for A Gathering of Poetry - welcome!

Last month I posted a poem by Barbara Crooker. She was a new poet to me then, but in the month since, I've been reading more of her poetry and I continue to be impressed. The poem I chose this month spoke so clearly of the landscape, what I've been seeing outdoors, and how I've been feeling that I had to choose Barbara Crooker again this month.  

 

Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself

by Barbara Crooker

 

like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry.  And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings.  Look at the trees.  They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer.  And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May.  The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise.  Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again. 

 

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Crooker, Barbara. "Sometimes, I Am Startled Outside of Myself." Radiance. Word Press, 2005.

 

You can read more about the poet here. 

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