And the clouds blew in

When I went out at 5:30 this AM to get the paper, the sky was as clear as an infant's conscience, and as cold as a polar bear's bedroom slippers. When DH and I left the house at 7, the clouds were slipping in from the West like a lid being pulled shut over the valley. The sunrise managed to slip her rosey fingers under the edge for a few glorious minutes. Just long enough to wave good bye. And now, the sky is grey, grey, grey. At least, getting up early gives me a glimpse of cloudless climes.


Another handspun sweater is getting hammered out. Pale green this time. Big enough for a well-grown teenager.
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With my usual neurotic precision, I marked for sleeve placement. (In other words, I folded the work in half, eyeballed what I thought would be adequate for an armhole, said, "That's close enough." Placed two pins. Folded the other side over, and placed two more pins.)

Now to pick up along the sides, and knit away.

Oh, damn! I forgot to make a hole for the head! Tomorrow, I'll show how I deal with that little detail.