Unraveled Wednesday: 1/28/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today, with evidence of my aversion to knitting thumbs. During the snowstorm I finished the second mitten and because my hands were so cold, I also used the same pattern and knit a pair of fingerless handwarmers. Alas, the thumb elves did not show up and finish them for me so I will be forced to complete them myself. I will certainly do that because our high temperatures are not supposed to be above 15-20 degrees for the next week or so. I think once I actually sit down and just do it, it will be much less of a chore than I am imagining. I've watched this youtube video several times and I like how it shows exactly where to pick up stitches to achieve a thumb with no gaps. I'll report back next week!

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?