many things make a post
actual knitting content + plus some cross stitch

up with figs, snow hell

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Snow hell

How you know you have reached February:

You expect any silence to be broken with the sounds of snowblowers.

The fingers of your right hand are noticeably colder than the fingers on your left hand and have been for weeks.

You’d live in a cup of tea if you could only figure out how to get all of your body in the mug.

The cat who hates all human beings won’t get out of your lap.

Any day when the temperature is above freezing feels like a day in the Caribbean. 

The bottom two inches of your pants are always wet.

Walking anywhere is like living in a snow habitrail, given how high the drifts next to the sidewalks has become. 

You’ve forgotten what the color green looks like. Ditto what it’s like to only wear one layer of clothes.

You wake up every morning reminding yourself that this is the price for gorgeous summers and autumns. Sometimes, this works.

Still, you can admit that all the snow is scenic. Yes, really. And you grab the shovel again.


Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


I like the color!

For a short month, it's startling just how much February can suck.

One of the smartest things my husband and I ever did was to go visit a butterfly farm in the middle of a very bad winter. Being in the warmth, surrounded by tropical greenery and gorgeous, colorful butterflies did a lot to help us make it to winter's end without (completely) losing our sanity.

Those of us in northern VT can totally relate...Spring WILL come eventually, even if it's not until June :)

Yes, my cat attaches himself to my head like a limpet to a rock every night when I go to bed. Why he does that instead of crawling under the covers like I do is a mystery.

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