The last day of the first half of the year dawned bright and ...
well, no ... it dawned dreary and overcast but initially dry, so I spent yesterday morning making multiple trips with a wheelbarrow up and over the hill and back.
Y'see, Pete and Brenda's new place doesn't have a wood fire, so basically I've been given carte blanche to remove as much of the various wood piles as I can. We're not talking good quality stuff and at the moment it's pretty damp ... but wood is wood and free wood is even better.
Hence the wheelbarrow-age
until I managed to get myself ambushed by a stray piece of rusty fencing wire, which carved a neat little C shape through the bed of my little fingernail. There was bleeding, some extremely unladylike thoughts, the trudge home with the loaded barrow, and an appointment with the disinfectant
yeow - ow- ouch
my tetanus shots are up to date so that was ok, and about this time it went even darker and drearier and the heavens opened, so I was quite happy to stop
With the addition of a couple of bandaids, I was soon ensconced in front of a roaring fire, current knitting in hand... and you know what? Turns out that my right pinkie finger is the only one I don't need for knitting.
Okay, sure, there was some modification of my normal method of yarn tensioning, and said digit was extended at that odd angle usually reserved for pantomiming polite tea drinking, but other than that it was all systems normal.
As the day progressed the rain and wind got wilder and this morning there were roads blocked by fallen trees, so I opted not to drive the 40-odd km over narrow windy country roads to Daylesford for Purl's Princesses. I'll stay home and knit instead.
crackling fire fueled by gifted wood, something small and sweet on the needles ... I think a cuppa might be in order now