Dylan’s mum has a blanket, painstakingly crocheted by her granny from her grandchildren’s old jumpers, too worn to go through another cycle of unravel and reknit.
How beautiful imagining each colour having had so many different lives!

Cuddled up in the brightly coloured wrap, looking at rain putting a hold to my days adventures, I decided to be inspired rather than discouraged.

Winter gets into my bones, I hate it. In Melbourne it doesn’t magically float down over the land in delicate drifts, as I romantically (and probably erroneously) imagine it does in Europe and the Americas. Instead it splutters and it drizzles.
 

A pathetic
overcast sulker

 
that turns lettuces bitter without the payoff of a snowball fight montage!