This morning was brutal indeed. I shut the outside water off last weekend and it appears not a moment too soon with very low temps and a wind chill of 27 degrees this morning! It is much, much too soon for this cold weather and now snow flurries are expected tonight and tomorrow morning. Enough already! I decided, in lieu of a walk this morning, I should get a few errands done and give the buggy a run since we are having this cold snap for most of the week – unfortunately, sometimes it is better to cater to the car and not myself.

Autumn is really my favorite season, but maybe I’m rethinking that statement when it gets this cold and blustery and looking up at the sky, the leaves falling from the trees and scattering on the ground resemble a time-lapse photography video.

I really liked this picture because it reminds me of some of my favorite woolly sweaters that I’ve owned through the years. Warm and fuzzy memories of cardigans buttoned up to the neck to keep me cozy while one hand grips a mug with steaming hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows floating on top and the other hand is dipping into the cookie jar. But, any knitted item will evoke memories of my mom because she loved to knit and boy could she churn out the knitted goods until carpal tunnel issues forced her to stop entirely. For years she would knit while watching TV, the needles flashing furiously and the ball of wool at her side dwindling down ever so quickly. Mom never missed any part of the show since she rarely looked down at her work and only glanced at her project or directions on the commercials. She tried to teach me how to knit many times, but I was more likely to do “knit two, purl two, drop two” quickly followed by handing over my work with its dropped stitches boo-boo to be repaired. The many mistakes on my part were often met with a sigh so we eventually abandoned my knitting lessons and projects.

My mom was a whiz at creating delicate baby outfits – lacy sweaters with matching booties and cap and she knitted at breakneck speed when she learned friends’ children, grandchildren and even a few great-grandchildren were on the way. Mom would knit argyle socks and cabled sweater vests for my father and I amassed several large bureau drawers brimming over with soft, fuzzy sweaters, vests, plus many hat, scarf and glove sets through the years. Her hobby came to a crashing end when Mom decided to experiment with knitting afghans; she made two for my grandmother and one for her and me and all that knitting on large, circular needles, was too taxing for her and she eventually had to have carpal tunnel surgery on both hands. She was reluctant to take up knitting again lest she cause the carpal tunnel problems to flare up again, and she bemoaned the loss of her hobby and the fact that the needlework had helped keep her arthritic fingers nimble.

In the course of the last week, I’ve dragged out a knitted gloves, hat and scarf set plus a medium-weight coat for walking on the chillier mornings; perhaps the Polar Fleece gear and heavy mittens are next on the warm-weather apparel agenda. When is Indian Summer slated to arrive please?