The moon was just gorgeous when I got home from work last night shortly after 5 o'clock. It wasn't full dark so the sky was still blue and when I stepped out the patio door it looked like the moon was nestled in the crook of the tree. It was worth getting chilled to the bone to take it.
I finished the two pancakes I made on Wednesday, making and sewing a pat of butter on each one. I'm still tempted to make a couple of them without butter--and people keep saying I need to figure out how to put syrup on them but I say if there's pretend water in the play sink there can be pretend syrup on the play pancakes.
Last night I started knitting the mittens' hands and got the thumb gussets started. Doing them two-at-a-time on a long circular made for some yarn gymnastics since the gussets are at the halfway mark so they'll grow out the side of the cuffs. I know I'm not explaining it well but I know what I mean and since I'm the one knitting the mittens that's all that matters.
February 10--Claude Monet, The Poppy Field. They didn't bloom long. It was maybe two weeks from the time the first fuzzy-cased bud opened until the last crimson petal floated to the ground but nothing compared to the glory of the poppies. On a windy day it looked as if the hillside was on fire. Julie stood at the window on the landing to watch the way the breezes tickled and tossed the flowers. Poppies weren't picking flowers, Nana said. They drooped and flopped on spindly stems and left purple pollen smudges on the tablecloth. Once the petals had fallen and the seed pods dried, they went out with scissors and buckets to collect the valuable seeds, some to plant in the greenhouse next spring and some to stir into Julie's favorite lemon poppyseed cake.
So far today I've gotten a haircut, done a few errands, and I'm in the middle of doing laundry. And the sun's come out. Hallelujah! It's warmed up a bit too, thank god. It was so cold and so windy the last couple days it was hard to get warm once I'd been outside. I hope it's sunny where you are.