Unraveled Wednesday: 3/11/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a few more teeth added to the Dream Hitchhiker, and I’ve also cast on Justin’s Hat 2.0. The Hitchhiker looks much the same as it did last week, just four teeth longer, so I’ll spare you a photo this time. It’s true comfort knitting, and I almost always try to work a few rows before bed. At first I was eager to finish it so I could wear it while the weather was still chilly, but lately I’ve been taking my time and enjoying the process a bit more.

When I checked my stash for yarn for Justin’s Hat 2.0, I realized I had enough for the duplicate-stitch animals but not enough to actually knit the hat itself. So I ordered some Palette from KnitPicks. They shipped it the next day, and I waited rather impatiently by the front door for UPS. The delivery was late (of course), but my enthusiasm hadn’t faded, so I cast on right away. Unfortunately, I apparently couldn’t count to 144, despite checking three times, so I started over and managed it correctly the second time. Now I’m working through lots of ribbing and looking forward to reaching the stockinette section. I’m glad I started this hat in March; knitting a fingering-weight hat may take me a while, and the duplicate stitching will take even longer.

 

I read two books this week, both non-fiction and both great. Recommended by Pam, the graphic edition of On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder, illustrated by Nora Krug, transforms Snyder’s already concise political handbook into something even more immediate, visual, and emotionally resonant. Originally structured as twenty short lessons drawn from the failures of 20th-century democracies, the book distills complex historical warnings into brief, memorable calls to action about how ordinary people can resist authoritarianism.

What makes this edition stand out is Krug’s artwork. Her collage-style illustrations, mixing historical imagery, watercolor drawings, and visual symbolism, add a layer of urgency that the plain text version only hints at. The images don’t just decorate the ideas; they deepen them. Seeing fragments of propaganda, photographs, and unsettling visual juxtapositions alongside Snyder’s lessons drives home the unsettling reality that tyranny doesn’t arrive overnight, it grows gradually through complacency, fear, and the erosion of democratic norms.

The book is also remarkably accessible. At barely over a hundred pages, it reads quickly, but that brevity is part of its strength. Snyder’s central argument, that citizens must actively defend institutions, language, and truth, is delivered in short, direct chapters that feel less like academic analysis and more like civic advice. The graphic format reinforces that clarity, making the lessons easy to absorb and hard to forget.

If I had one small criticism, it’s that the format can occasionally make the ideas feel a bit simplified. The lessons are powerful, but readers looking for deeper historical context may want to follow this with some of Snyder’s more detailed works. For some, this book may be more of a starting point than a full exploration.

Still, as a visual introduction to democratic vigilance, On Tyranny is striking, thoughtful, and timely. It’s the kind of book that can be read in a single sitting but linger in your mind long afterward and provoke action.  

Recommended by Kym, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey is one of those rare books that seems small and quiet on the surface, yet somehow expands your sense of the world. It’s a short memoir, but it left me with a surprising feeling of calm, wonder, and gratitude.

After a mysterious illness leaves Bailey largely bedridden and isolated, a friend brings her a pot of wild violets along with an unexpected guest: a tiny woodland snail. With little else she can physically do, Bailey begins observing the snail’s nightly routines, gradually becoming fascinated by its movements, habits, and quiet persistence. Over time, this tiny creature becomes a source of companionship and curiosity, giving structure and meaning to days that might otherwise feel empty.

What makes this book so special is Bailey’s attention to detail. She writes about the snail with the patience of a naturalist and the wonder of someone rediscovering the world at a slower pace. Through careful observation, watching the snail glide across leaves, listening to the faint rasping sound as it eats, learning about snail biology and behavior, she opens a door into an entire miniature universe that most of us never notice.

But this isn’t just a book about a snail. It’s about resilience, curiosity, and the strange ways we find comfort during difficult times. Bailey never turns the snail into a sentimental symbol; instead, she lets its simple persistence mirror her own struggle to endure and recover. The result is deeply moving without ever feeling heavy-handed.

I finished this book with the sense that my attention had been gently retrained. It reminds you that wonder doesn’t always come from grand adventures or dramatic stories; it can come from watching a tiny creature slowly explore the edge of a flowerpot. Quiet, thoughtful, and unexpectedly profound, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating is a small masterpiece. 4.5 stars rounded up.  

What are you making and reading this warming Wednesday in March? 

 

Spring Cleaning (Sort Of)

Yesterday was an absolutely beautiful day, 72 degrees, blue skies, and breezy. It made me want to open the windows and wash my kitchen curtains since it was also a perfect drying day. Once I washed the curtains and hung them on the line, I decided that since I had started some spring cleaning, I would continue. 

 

 

Last week I asked you guys about rechargeable stick vacuums and even though Dyson seemed to be the top choice, I was afraid that brand might be a little pricey for my budget. I ordered an inexpensive ($128) model that was made in China but after reading too many specs I finally picked this one for its price, weight, suction, battery life, and reviews. 

 

 

I've only used it a little bit but I'm completely happy (so far). The heaviest thing on it is the rechargeable battery, it works really well on both rugs and bare floors, and the charge seems to last at least 30 min. even though I hadn't fully charged it. It even has a cool green headlight that helps me see dust on the bare floors. 

 

I was looking at the user's manual and got inspired to take the "stick" part off and attach one of the additional cleaning doohickeys and vacuum my stairs. I've always done them with a Swiffer and a damp microfiber towel, but using the vacuum this way I didn't have to crawl up and down the steps to get the dust bunnies.

 

Today is supposed to be even warmer, so I will probably wash my bedding and hang it outside so I can experience that wonderful moment of climbing into a bed freshly made with line-dried sheets. I'm also looking forward to vacuuming upstairs with my fancy new vacuum. I know I can carry it up the steps without hurting my back or tripping on the vacuum. Spring cleaning two days in a row is kind of a miracle around here, but anything that makes me want to clean is a good thing!

One Friday Letter

I've only got one Friday letter today, but I think it's a good one. The situation appealed to me for many reasons - there was a true disparity; the resolution involved knitting; the knitters drew attention to the problem without violence or vandalism, and the Danish government responded with a meaningful amount of money to address the issue. Read this article and see what you think. 

Dear Danish Knitters, 

Way to go! I love that Louise Moerup first discussed why there weren't more statues of real women with her son on the way to school, and even better, then she did something unique and creative. She knit a lovely halter dress for a naked Venus statue, but this was not because she was disturbed by nudity. “It wasn’t really the nudity that made me want to knit her dress,” Moerup said, “but the absence of women who are remembered for their achievements. Knitting the dress was my humorous way to make people look twice and notice what’s missing.” 

I love that other knitters have joined in making knitwear for statues, and I'm impressed by the caliber of these garments. 

 

 

Author Maren Uthaug said. “We don’t want the statues removed, and we don’t really want to cover them up. But we can’t make a point by doing something with historical statues — because they are not there.”

 

 

I really love that the Danish government saw and heard the knitters and announced that it was setting aside $1.5 million to fund public artworks commemorating historically significant women. 

 

“If my little knitted intervention helped nudge the conversation forward,” Moreup said, “I’m glad about that.” Louise, you and other Danish knitters have made my week, and I raise my knitting needles to you and your clever knitting. Well done!

 

Joining you in admiration,

A Fellow Knitter (who has not yet clothed a statue)

 

I hope your weekend is a good one and that your own making involves a bit of humor and cleverness! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/4/2026

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with more of the Dream Hitchhiker. It looks much the same but I'm well into the second skein and have completed 28 teeth, so there is progress. 

I've been thinking about casting on a second project and I think I've chosen one. Years ago (13 or so) I knit this hat for Justin. He wore it several times, but he was in college at the time, so the hat often ended up on the floor of his dorm room. He brought it home and said that he didn't know how, but the hat had gotten a few small holes in it. There were at least five or six holes and I felt like crying, so I picked up the stitches around the holes the best I could and then just put the hat into the freezer. I suspected the holes were from carpet beetles, and I hoped the freezer would kill them. They are probably dead after 13 years, but realistically, I think it would be easier to just knit a new hat and duplicate stitch the animals once again onto the new hat. It took me over four months to knit and stitch originally but it could be a Christmas present if I started the new one in the near future. I think I might have extra balls of the original yarn I used, but that will require digging into deep stash. I also have to find the patterns for the animals. I might try gathering the materials together in the next week or so, or ordering new yarn if that's what I need to do. I've got my fingers crossed that this actually works out. 
 

I finished two books this week. I've seen the trailer for the movie Midwinter Break and thought the book might be more interesting. I went into Midwinter Break by Bernard MacLaverty expecting a quiet, emotionally rich portrait of a long marriage, and that’s mainly what I got. Set over the course of a short trip to Amsterdam, the novel follows Gerry and Stella as they navigate the unspoken tensions, old wounds, and spiritual reckonings that surface after decades together.

MacLaverty writes with restraint and precision. The prose is spare but thoughtful, and there’s an understated elegance to the way he captures memory, regret, and the strange intimacy of a shared life. The alternating perspectives between Gerry and Stella work well, highlighting how two people can inhabit the same experiences yet carry entirely different emotional truths. I especially appreciated the exploration of faith, guilt, and aging. These big themes are handled in a human, grounded way.

That said, while I completely understood and could easily relate to feelings that people engaged in a decades-long marriage might experience, that doesn't easily translate to a book that people might enjoy reading. The novel’s quiet realism too often tips into emotional monotony. The conflicts are internal, the revelations subtle, and the forward momentum minimal. At times, I found myself admiring the craft more than feeling compelled by the story.

There’s no doubt that Midwinter Break is a mature and carefully constructed novel. For readers who appreciate introspective literary fiction and nuanced character studies, it will likely resonate deeply. For me, though, the experience felt more contemplative than captivating. Thoughtful and well-written, but not quite moving enough to linger long after the final page. This was three stars for me. 

During the winter, I worry about the birds, foxes, and deer that visit our yard on a regular basis. In Winter World, Bernd Heinrich explains that many of them have mechanisms and ways to survive so maybe I don't need to worry too much. What could have been a straightforward natural history of how animals survive the cold becomes, in Heinrich’s hands, something more intimate: a meditation on adaptation, endurance, solitude, and awe.

Blending memoir with scientific observation, Heinrich documents the winter lives of creatures in and around his Maine woods, chickadees that can lower their body temperature to survive brutal nights, frogs that freeze solid and thaw in spring, insects that rely on antifreeze-like chemicals, mammals that gamble on stored fat. His explanations are clear and often fascinating, and he has a gift for translating complex biological processes into language that feels accessible without being simplistic.

That said, I had mixed and complicated feelings about some of the experiments he describes. Several of them feel driven primarily by personal curiosity rather than a clearly articulated research framework, and there are instances where he captures wild animals to conduct experiments that ultimately result in the animal’s death. While Heinrich is transparent about what he’s doing, and while such practices may not be unusual in certain scientific contexts, reading these passages was unsettling. At times, the tone borders on casual in ways that made the work seem more scientifically irresponsible than rigorously controlled.

The book also straddles an interesting line between science and memoir. It is undeniably grounded in biology, but it also contains plenty of personal reflection and non-scientific assumptions about behavior, motivation, and meaning in the natural world. For some readers, that blend will be the book’s greatest strength; for others, it may blur the boundaries between observation and interpretation a bit too freely.

Ultimately, Winter World transforms the coldest season into one of quiet brilliance. Even with my reservations, I finished the book more attentive to the frost on my own windows, more curious about the birds at my feeder, and more aware of the invisible dramas unfolding in the snow. It’s an absorbing, thought-provoking read, one that inspires wonder, even as it invites debate about the costs of curiosity. Three and a half stars rounded up.  

What are you making and reading this first Wednesday in March? 

 

Weekending: 2/28 and 3/1

Weekends in my world aren't a lot different than weekdays. I did take a couple of decent photos this weekend, so I can use them to tell you about my mostly dull weekend. Let's see what I can come up with.

John was talking to his brother at his house and their conversation was getting a bit boring for me so I took a little walk into the woods. I was lucky enough to see this hawk, but I wasn't sure what kind it was. Google tells me that it's a red-shouldered hawk and I think it's quite beautiful.

I also saw bare fields and plenty of deer eating in those bare fields on my way back. I'm surprised at how fast the snow is melting, but I guess that's what happens when the temperatures reach 50. We do have a few chilly days before it warms up again. I wonder if the warmup is here to stay? Probably not, but the rain that is predicted for this warmer week is far better than snow.

Speaking of deer, I made venison chili in the crockpot on Sunday. I don't mind cooking but half the battle is deciding what to make. Chili is easy to put together and it's a good meal with cornbread. I hope there are leftovers because I don't know what to make for dinner tonight (or the rest of the week).  

 

The only other thing of note that I did this weekend besides knitting and reading was search for a rechargeable stick vacuum that works on both carpet and bare floors. Jess has one that I've used to pick up kitty litter that's gotten tracked around but it barely works on carpets. I have this idea that I might clean more if my vacuum wasn't so heavy and cumbersome to lug upstairs. I found a couple possibilities on Amazon, but I'm not sure. So if you have any recommendations, please let me know. There's no guarantee that I will clean any more even if it's easier, but there is always a small chance. 

 

I hope you had a good weekend and that it was somewhat warmer in your neighborhood!

Friday Letters

Today I'm taking my virtual fountain pen in hand to write a few Friday letters. It's been a while (three years, actually) since I wrote any, but after reading the NYT this morning, and the storm last weekend, I think I have a few things to write about. 

Dear DD,

I do like your coffee (your donuts, too) but I like them in normal quantities. Reading this article this morning just made me laugh. My favorite mug holds 14 ounces of tea and I find that to be sufficient. When Ryan and I drove from Colorado to New Jersey, I did have a 20 ounce cup of coffee in the car. But a 48 ounce bucket of coffee strikes me as excessive. I would feel ridiculous carrying this thing around by the handle and no vehicle has a cup holder big enough for a bucket. But your stores are supposedly sold out of the bucket and you haven't even rolled it out to all locations, so to each his own. I may hold out for the super-size five-gallon bucket. 

 

Sincerely,

An Occasional Coffee Drinker in Moderation

 

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Dear Mr. Clean,

 

Congratulations on your retirement! You are just a year younger than I am, and I was saddened to hear that you were "saying goodbye to the world of cleaning". I occasionally use Bounty paper towels, Tide detergent, and your magic eraser sponges are great. Retirement is wonderful, but I'd like to extend an invitation to you. If you find that you miss cleaning, you are always more than welcome to come to my house and do some. I'll have plenty of your products on hand so you can do laundry, dust, and you might even have to mop up a big spill from my DD coffee bucket. Feel free to stop by any time; you will always be welcome!

 

Best Regards,

A Person Whose House Needs Your Special Touch

 

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I received this photo from a friend that lives in Massachusetts and had to write a reply. 

 

Dear Nina,

 

I'm sorry for all the snow you received in Massachusetts and I wish you all the best in digging out. But thank heavens you remembered to put your wipers up; you might have a real dilemma on your hands if you hadn't done that!

 

So sorry,

Bonny (who only got half the snow that you guys did)

 

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My Dearest Sweet Nugget,

 

Please accept my heartfelt apologies for not coming to see you and give you treats last Monday. Yes, I was supposed to be the cat-sitter, and I'll admit that I didn't do a very good job since I didn't brave a mere 17" of snow to come and check on you. I'm so sorry, and I will definitely give you extra treats, pets, and snuggles the next time I see you. 

 

Please forgive me,

Your favorite pet-sitter

 

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Here's hoping you have a lovely, relaxing weekend! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 2/25/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a start on the Dream Hitchhiker. It is a dream to knit with this yarn, and for now I'm knitting on it monogamously in hope of finishing it in good time.

It was too dark outside to take a good picture of this by the time I thought about it, but I'll try to do better next week. I'm doing a row of yarnovers after every group of six teeth and stopping to admire it and pet its softness then, too. This is really a joy to knit. 

I've only got one knitting project but I did finish two books. Good People by Patmeena Sabit is one of those novels that quietly unsettles you and then refuses to let go.

At the center of the story is Zorah Sharaf, beloved eldest daughter, model student, the pride of a family who clawed their way from refugee beginnings to life in an exclusive American neighborhood. But after an unthinkable tragedy, the narrative fractures. Was Zorah perfect? Was she troubled? Was the Sharaf family truly living the American dream or just performing it?

What makes this novel especially compelling is its unique structure. The story is told exclusively through statements from friends, neighbors, teachers, community members, and reporters all weighing in. There’s no traditional narration, no access to a character’s private thoughts. Instead, readers piece together the truth through interviews and commentary. The format feels almost like reading court transcripts or investigative journalism, and it creates a fascinating push-and-pull effect. Just when you think you understand what happened, a new voice reframes everything.

That structure also underscores one of the novel’s most powerful themes: how truth is shaped by perspective and also by bias. Through these layered testimonies, Sabit offers a sharp, thought-provoking exploration of immigration, assimilation, and the crushing expectations placed on “model” families. The Sharafs are praised as a success story until they aren’t. The same community that once celebrated them becomes quick to judge. Prejudice simmers just beneath polite suburban civility, and the novel captures that tension beautifully.

If I have one small critique, it’s that the format, while bold and effective, occasionally creates emotional distance. Because we never fully inhabit Zorah’s interior life, some moments feel intentionally elusive. But maybe that’s the point: we never truly know someone through secondhand accounts, no matter how confident the speaker sounds.

Overall, Good People is smart, unsettling, and deeply relevant. It’s a book that invites discussion, about immigration, family, reputation, belonging, and the dangerous ease with which communities rewrite someone’s story. I think this would make a wonderful book for a book club discussion. 4.5 stars rounded up. 

In Where We Keep the Light, Josh Shapiro offers a thoughtful, measured reflection on public service, faith, and what it means to “show up” for your community. Part memoir, part governing philosophy, the book traces his path from knocking on doors as a young volunteer to leading the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania through complicated and often contentious moments.

I’ll admit whenever a prominent politician releases a memoir, especially one still relatively early in their national trajectory, it’s hard not to view it through a presidential lens. Writing a book can feel like a box that gets checked when someone is considering a future run for higher office. That said, even with that awareness, this was still a genuinely solid and engaging read.

What works best here is Shapiro’s emphasis on practical governance. He returns again and again to the idea that government can function well if leaders are willing to listen carefully, build coalitions, and tackle unglamorous problems head-on. His stories from the campaign trail and from his time in office feel grounded rather than grandiose. There’s a steady through-line of faith and family, but it’s presented in a way that feels personal rather than preachy.

As someone who doesn’t live in Pennsylvania but just next door in New Jersey, I found it interesting to read about issues that ripple across state lines, economic development, infrastructure, public safety, and the constant effort to restore trust in institutions. Even from a neighboring state, it’s clear that Shapiro takes the mechanics of governing seriously.

Is it a bit polished? Of course. Is there careful positioning? Absolutely. But that’s to be expected in political memoir. What elevates it to four stars for me is the tone: pragmatic, optimistic without being naive, and focused on the idea that more unites Americans than divides us.

If this book is part of laying the groundwork for a presidential run, it’s an effective introduction. Based on what I read here and in the news about his governorship, I think Mr. Shapiro would do a fine job as president. Here’s hoping that that happens. 

What are you making and reading this last Wednesday in February?