The cold weather over the past couple weeks has produced some rather picturesque river ice. This week has been a little warmer and caused the ice to recede a bit, so I'm glad I took pictures of it when it was it its peak with just a channel of water running in the middle.
Highly Reasonable
Striving to be highly reasonable, even in the face of unreasonableness. Reading, knitting, and some alcohol may help.
Friday, February 13, 2026
A Few Photos
Wednesday, February 11, 2026
Unraveled Wednesday: 2/11/26
I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today, with a completed hat and some progress on the Hitchhiker.
Set in 1933 Oxford, Mississippi, this novel brings together an unlikely group of women, each marginalized in different ways, whose lives intersect at just the right (or wrong) moment. Meg, Birdie, and Charlie are all compelling in their own ways, and Stockett does a particularly good job showing how class, gender, and circumstance limit their options while never fully extinguishing their grit or humor. These main characters join forces along with other underestimated women to take bold risks that might change their lives forever, forming a sisterhood rooted in defiance as much as friendship.
That sense of resilience, especially resilience found in friendship and shared defiance, is the emotional core of the book. Stockett vividly portrays the struggle for dignity and self-determination against the backdrop of the Great Depression, where economic hardship sharpens every choice and raises the cost of every mistake. It’s hard not to root for these women and their audacious plan, even as the stakes rise and the consequences loom.
These are women you want to root for, surrounded by men you mostly want to hate. That contrast is played a little heavy-handed at times, and while I admired the novel’s ambition and heart, some of it was a bit overwritten and went on a bit too long. Still, Stockett’s warmth, wit, and compassion shine through, and the ending is so very satisfying that it’s easy to let those flaws slide. This is a rewarding, engaging read and a welcome return from an author I was eager to visit again.
Thank you to Edelweiss+ and Spiegel & Grau for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 5, 2026.
What are you making and reading during this slightly warmer week?
Tuesday, February 10, 2026
Read With Us: Gilead
If you’re in the mood for a book that rewards slow reading, deep thinking, and a little quiet awe, Gilead by Marilynne Robinson is a perfect choice for Read With Us.
Set in a small Iowa town in the 1950s, Gilead takes the form of a long letter written by Reverend John Ames to his young son. Ames is elderly and ill, and what unfolds is not a plot-driven novel so much as a meditation on life: faith, grace, forgiveness, love, regret, and the strange beauty of ordinary days. If that sounds heavy, it can be, but it’s also gentle, luminous, and surprisingly warm. So what are some good reasons for reading this book?
One of the great pleasures of Gilead is Robinson’s language. Her prose is precise and unshowy, yet often breathtaking. She has a gift for making small moments feel sacred: light falling on water, a child’s laughter, a simple walk through town. This is a book that makes you want to pause mid-paragraph just to sit with a sentence for a moment.
This is also a novel about empathy. Even when characters disappoint or frustrate us, Robinson invites us to see them whole, shaped by their pasts and their fears. That generosity of spirit is one of the reasons Gilead has stayed with readers for years and continues to feel relevant.
For discussion purposes, Gilead offers so much to work with. It asks big questions without insisting on easy answers: What do we owe the people we love? How do we live well, knowing we are flawed and finite? What does forgiveness really cost? The relationships, especially between fathers and sons, and between old friends carrying long histories, are nuanced and quietly powerful, leaving plenty of room for interpretation and our discussion.
If you enjoy books that are reflective rather than fast-paced, rich in ideas, and written with extraordinary care, Gilead is well worth your time. It’s the kind of novel that doesn’t shout for your attention, but once you settle into it, it has a way of lingering, quietly, long after you’ve turned the last page.
Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts throughout February. Discussion day for Gilead is scheduled for Tuesday, March 17, 2026 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always educational and illuminating Zoom discussion.
I hope the promise of breathtaking prose, a book full of empathy, and one that I think will be the basis of a rich discussion will make you want to read Gilead. We hope you'll Read With Us and discover this quietly reflective novel.
Friday, February 6, 2026
A Few More Good Things
Welcome to my version of a Few More Good Things! I've been looking for good things this week, and even the act of looking for them has improved my outlook. With further ado, here they are:
- We actually got above freezing for a few hours the week, and this happened on two different days. I'm still dressing in turtlenecks, woolly knit items, and fingerless gloves, but the slightly warmer temperatures were nice while they lasted.
- I visited Ryan earlier in the week and he made me lunch. My grandmother always said that food tastes better if someone prepares it for you, and I find that to be true. He made me supper on a bread slice (a combination of venison, bacon, and cheese on top of split halves of French bread and baked for a few minutes) and it was delicious.
- I haven't rewatched Schitt's Creek, but I probably will sometime in the future. This list of gleeful words from Moira Rose made my day and hopefully some of them will make you smile also. I'm hoping I can use balatron in my conversation this weekend, and I'm pretty sure I know who I'll be speaking about.
Wednesday, February 4, 2026
Unraveled Wednesday: 2/4/26
I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today, with some completed thumbs, progress on the Hitchhiker, and something else.
First, I did knit thumbs for the fingerless handwarmers. They fit well and I've been wearing them all the time.
The protagonist,
Margo Miyake, quickly goes well past believable and into territory that
feels completely disconnected from reality. What might have been a
satirical or darkly funny exploration of housing desperation instead
becomes implausible to the point of distraction. I found it hard to stay
engaged once the story lost any grounding in how actual people behave,
even under stress.
I also struggled with Margo herself. She is an
unabashed whiner, and despite having $1.3 million to spend on a house,
she refuses to settle for anything that deviates even slightly from her
idealized life plan. Rather than coming across as sympathetic or
self-aware, her complaints grew tiresome and made it difficult to root
for her in any meaningful way.
The bright spot here was the
audiobook narrator, Cia Court, who did an excellent job bringing energy
and nuance to the material. Her performance was easily the most
enjoyable aspect of the experience.
Overall, this one didn’t work
for me. The premise had promise, but the execution veered too far from
reality and left me more frustrated than entertained. I should pay more attention when books are described as bonkers!
What are you making and reading this frigid week?
Friday, January 30, 2026
A Few More Good Things
I never post in the afternoon, but I've felt lifted up by Kym's Happy Hour, Vicki's Good Things, and Sarah's Good News so I needed to share a few more good things. I think this should/will be a regular Friday thing. Be sure and check out their blogs if you haven't already.
Just in case you didn't read my frozen finch story over at Kyms, I'll repeat myself here. I got to see a frozen finch come back to life. Sunday as the storm was winding down I saw a finch lying down in my window feeder. Its feet were curled up and it was covered in sleet and freezing rain. I felt sad that this poor bird had died, but Monday morning when I came downstairs, I saw the finch sitting on the edge of the feeder and warming up in the sun. I was thrilled and put off getting my tea so I didn’t disturb it, but I just sat at the kitchen table, watching and hoping it would get warm enough. After about half an hour it did, ate a few seeds and flew into the closest oak to sit in the sun some more. It felt like a miracle!
It's not a great photo, but I took this on Monday morning as she was reviving herself. You can still see some of the sleet/freezing rain on her wing feathers, but she did eventually manage to fly away. It was a wonderful way to start my day (and probably hers, too).
Wednesday, January 28, 2026
Unraveled Wednesday: 1/28/26
The storm also gave me plenty of reading time so I finished two books. The first in an ARC that won't be published until April, but there is a current goodreads giveaway if you are interested. Against Breaking: On the Power of Poetry is a slim book that
manages to feel both intimate and expansive. Ada Limón writes with the
same clarity, warmth, and emotional intelligence that make her poetry so
resonant, and here she makes a compelling, generous case for why poetry
matters, not as an academic exercise, but as a part of being human.
Drawing
on her experience as the 24th Poet Laureate of the United States, Limón
reflects on poetry as a force for connection, healing, and attention.
Her prose is accessible without ever being simplistic; it’s thoughtful,
inviting, and deeply humane. This is not a book that tells you what
poetry should be, but one that gently opens a door and says: come in,
this is for you, too.
One of the most moving threads in the book
is her insistence on tenderness, not as weakness, but as courage. Limón
writes about worthiness, about paying attention to the natural world,
and about the way language can tether us to one another in fractured
times. Her You Are Here project, which centers place, environment, and
belonging, underscores how poetry can reorient us toward care, for the
land, for others, and for ourselves.
What I loved most is how
welcoming this book feels. It doesn’t demand prior knowledge or
reverence for poetry; instead, it meets the reader exactly where they
are. Limón’s writing reminds us that noticing is an ethical act, and
that beauty and grief often coexist.
Against Breaking is a
refuge, a rallying cry, and a reminder. If you’ve ever felt intimidated
by poetry, this book will help dissolve that fear. If you already love
poetry, it will renew and deepen that love. And if you simply need
reassurance that being tender, flawed, and attentive still matters, this
book offers that, generously and without pretense.
Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on April 7, 2026.
The second book was written for middle grades but it was just what I wanted to read. Pocket Bear by Katherine Applegate is a
tender, quietly wise story that feels like it was stitched together with
equal parts gentleness and heart.
Born during World War I and
small enough to fit into a soldier’s pocket, Pocket Bear remembers every
moment of his creation, the needle, the thread, the careful hands that
shaped him for comfort and luck. A century later, he finds himself at
Second Chances Home for the Tossed and Treasured, serving as its
unofficial mayor and moral center. From this vantage point, alongside
his delightfully mischievous feline friend Zephyrina (aka “The Cat
Burglar”), Pocket reflects on love, loss, bravery, and what it means to
be cherished again.
Applegate excels at writing for readers of
all ages without condescension. The prose is simple but never
simplistic, carrying emotional weight in deceptively small sentences.
Pocket’s perspective, rooted in observation, memory, and compassion,
gives the book a fable-like quality, while the setting offers a gentle
metaphor for healing and second chances.
While the story
occasionally leans a bit too sweet and tidy to fully surprise, its
warmth and sincerity are undeniable. This is a book that invites you to
slow down, to consider the quiet lives of objects we outgrow or discard,
and to remember that love doesn’t end.
A lovely, comforting
read that will resonate especially with readers who believe in kindness,
resilience, and the enduring power of being held close.
What are you making and reading this cold and snowy week?



















