February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again. – Sara Coleridge

Rain. Rain mixed with snow. Snow. Snow mixed with rain. And now bitter cold. Yet, lengthening days and increasing birdsong hold the promise that spring is coming, even if it does not feel like it this morning!

Add in my shawl to this sad mess. I got to the point in my knitty math to add in the gold and what had been the most soothing knit suddenly became one filled with angst. A few rows in and that angst did not go away, so I listened to that voice telling me this was not working and stopped. I ripped back and now I am in a holding pattern while I ponder what to do. My inner voice is telling me this needs a cool color rather than the warm gold. I don’t think I have anything in my stash that might work, but I have not looked that closely. Fortunately, I am not a “solo project knitter” so my Pheasant Pullover got some attention instead!

However, despite the miserable weather and shawl angst, there were plenty of things to love this week, starting with Mr. Rogers. NPR shared some amazing photos of Fred Rogers here. The images are brilliant, and the words that accompany them are perfect! Just like he was!

I listened to a really smart podcast this week, Stay Tuned with Preet! He interviewed Dan Goldman, the conversation was fascinating and so informative!

I want to thank Mary for telling me about Poetry Unbound! Today was a special treat when Pádraig read one of Ocean Vuong’s poems from Night Sky With Exit Wounds. I love hearing what someone else thinks about a poem – a new perspective adds a new dimension to a poem.

Finally a bit of poetry by Edward Hirsch to close out the week:

I’m Going to Start Living Like a Mystic
by Edward Hirsch:

Today I am pulling on a green wool sweater and walking across the park in a dusky snowfall.

The trees stand like twenty-seven prophets in a field, each a station in a pilgrimage—silent, pondering.

Blue flakes of light falling across their bodies are the ciphers of a secret, an occultation.

I will examine their leaves as pages in a text and consider the bookish pigeons, students of winter.

I will kneel on the track of a vanquished squirrel and stare into a blank pond for the figure of Sophia.

I shall begin scouring the sky for signs as if my whole future were constellated upon it.

I will walk home alone with the deep alone, a disciple of shadows, in praise of the mysteries.

Have a great, long weekend everyone. See you all back here next week!

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