Marie at 1 Write Way

Five Things About A Knitted Gift

July 30th, 2026
The Gift

Some of you might already be aware that I gifted a handknit wrap to my friend and fellow blogger Luanne Castle. You can see her post by clicking HERE.

The design is the Floating Waves Wrap by Amy Christoffers. I love this designer’s work! I can’t best the photo of Luanne modeling the wrap, but here’s a couple of more photos that I had intended to publish.

The full wrap

I should have added something to the above photo to give it scale … like me lying alongside it. The wrap is longer than my height.

Here you can see all the colors involved with some detail.

I enjoy taking close-ups of my knitting. Even while I was knitting, I often stopped to admire the seemingly intricate mosaic design. I say seemingly because, gosh, it was a simple design to knit.

My one and only attempt at a “professional” photo.

The yarn–Rowan Kidsilk Haze–is a mohair and silk blend, incredibly soft and light.

Why Gift?

I love to knit but I can’t/won’t keep everything I knit. I knit for my mental health, my desire to create, my desire to learn. What might attract me to a particular design is not always my desire to wear the design; sometimes I just want a challenge. I want to learn a new technique or try a new yarn. Then what?

It wasn’t a problem when I was employed. I often wore sweaters, shawls and/or scarves to work … sometimes even indoors given how cold our offices often were. But I’m no longer employed. In fact, I’ve been whittling down my wardrobe because my “need” for variety has severely decreased since retiring.

So gifting seems like a good way for me to enjoy knitting without worrying about the item eventually languishing in a chest. This is not a new thing. I’ve been gifting since I was a teenager. Sometimes the recipient knows they are getting a gift; most often they don’t.

How Do I Decide to Gift?

I don’t have a good answer for this. Sometimes I’ll see a design and immediately think of who I’d like to give the completed garment to. That has happened several times, mainly with my sister Shirley for whom I managed to knit four shawls before she died.

Once I knitted a very colorful bolero-style sweater with three-quarter length sleeves. It was supposed to be for me. I had every intention of keeping the sweater for me. But when I finished it and tried it on, I immediately thought of a friend who works as an artist in a cold, damp warehouse. The sweater with its three-quarter length sleeves would serve her well.

With the Floating Waves Wrap, I thought of Luanne after I had started knitting. Something just clicked in my head, and I saw see her wearing the wrap at one of those writing conferences where the rooms are always ice-cold. It wasn’t anything she said or did. Well, as she notes in her post, we have been friends for a long time, on and off the blogosphere, so there’s that.

The decision to send the wrap to her was spontaneous. The knitting took a lot longer … lol.

Do I “Gift” On Demand?

It wouldn’t be a gift then. Let me tell you a story: Once I had a boss who didn’t know how not to be bossy. It was her nature. So when she got pregnant, she decided that I would knit a bear hat for her newborn. Yeah, she didn’t ask if I would do it. Just came in and said what she wanted. She had already found a pattern (thank goodness). I made her buy the yarn because she wanted it to be orange (her favorite color). My “gift” was my labor.

This boss was smart but immature, a loud talker and prone to outbursts. At the same time, she couldn’t handle confrontations. Eventually, I learned if I stood my ground, she’d back down. But I didn’t know that then; otherwise, I might have found the courage to say, “no, I don’t knit on demand.”

The story has a happy ending. I knitted the hat and, yeah, it was cute and she was pleased (but, really, she had to be since it was her idea) and that was the end of that. Eventually she went on maternity leave (yay!) and then quit (yay! yay!).

Will I Gift Again?

Of course! What, when and to whom are to be determined. I have lots of knitting projects waiting to be started. I’ve toyed with the thought of doing giveaways, maybe hats, scarves, and other small items. We’ll see. In the meantime …

Thank you for reading!

Wendy

Here’s Wendy waiting for the automatic feeder to dispense her lunch. Two minutes to go and she’s not taking any chances of missing her meal. She’s also hoping that Raji sleeps through lunch so she can double-dip. And, yup, that’s my spinning wheel in the corner.
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A Different Kind of Book Review: Doll God by Luanne Castle #MondayBlogs #bookreview #poetry

July 14th, 2026
A note to readers: This review was posted here in 2015 when Doll God was first published. Since an ebook version of Doll God is now available, I’m posting it again.

Mary closed the slim volume of poetry and leaned back against the stiff cushions of her couch. She never was one to read much poetry, except occasionally Emily Dickinson and Shakespeare, whose works had stayed with her all these years since high school. What was it Dickinson once wrote in a letter? “If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.” And that was how Mary felt after reading Doll God by Luanne Castle.

Mary gazed at the cover, an antique doll, face down amongst some weedy flowers, as if it had been tossed by a child and then forgotten. Maggie, her cousin and a former English major, had given Mary the book that afternoon. “Take your time with these poems,” she had cautioned. “Some of them make you feel like you’re falling. There’s a sadness in them, but like a forlorn kind of sadness. Like missing the childhood you can never get back, or that you never had.”

“Gee, thanks, Maggie.” Mary had watched her cousin let herself out of the house, a knowing smile on her face. And then a wink just before the door closed. It was a dreary day, gray and wet and cold. The perfect day for a pot of hot tea, a woolen lap blanket, and a book. Not necessarily poetry, Mary had thought, but she picked up Doll God anyway. The wonderful thing about poetry collections was that you could just pick up and start reading wherever you wanted, unlike a novel where you tended to start at the first page, not in the middle. So Mary opened the book at a random page and began to read.

Now the room was dark except for the reading lamp. Mary hadn’t even moved to close the drapes and she sat staring at her reflection in the picture window.

Of all the poems she had to read first: “Calculating Loss.” It had given her chills at the realization, the recognition of the presence of loss. A missing chair. One less car in the garage. A half-empty jar of pebbles that, to the poet, seemed overflowing. Things missing should imply a vacuum, empty space. But Mary thought about those first few horrible months after Christopher was killed. How long it took her to remove his clothes from their walk-in closet. And how she couldn’t bring herself to hang anything there for she felt there was no room. The closet was full with her loss.

And then “Marriage Doll” and that exquisite image of the Hakate marriage doll with it’s hand upraised but empty, juxtaposed to a husband, flesh-and-bone, in the same pose but not empty-handed. Marriage Doll: 1 of 2, the poet wrote.

And so many other poems that evoked feelings in Mary that she couldn’t quite articulate. She didn’t feel sad after reading Doll God, but she felt changed somehow. Like someone pointing out the homeless guy huddled in a doorway on a dark, cold, rainy night, and then telling her a story of the man’s childhood (“Vagrant”). Like reading notes from someone’s diary about a day in October in the southwest and the shift in the habits of both wild and domestic creatures (“Sonoran October”). She is changed. She knows something, feels something new. The words are in the poetry so she really doesn’t need to find her own.

From “Repetition”:

Daylight burns brighter, scrape

deteriorates into amputation until day

is here and there is no yesterday.

From “Calculating Loss”:

Every day the world subtracts from itself and nothing

is immune.

From “American Girl”:

I am the wait.

By the time Mary finished reading the poems, she did feel as if the top of her head had been taken off. But, as if she were in a Frida Kahlo painting, she also felt images and words tumble from the half-empty but overflowing cup that was once her head. She gazed at her reflection in the black glass of the picture window and saw dolls and children and feral cats staring back at her. She felt cold and knew that no fire or freshly brewed pot of tea would warm her. She had just read poetry.

***

And now, dear Reader, if you would like to have that Dickinsonian experience of reading poetry, do go now and purchase a copy of Luanne Castle’s poetry collection, Doll God. And, while you’re at it, visit her blog at Writer Site where Luanne writes about poetry but also about memoir. She is writing her own memoir, which I can’t wait to read once it’s published, and her blog often features book reviews and guest bloggers. It’s never half-empty, but always overflowing. She also has a beautiful website to showcase her writing: http://www.luannecastle.com/

I know you will enjoy her works as much as I do.

***

Thank you for reading!

Raji chilling out on the porch.
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Musing About Entering the “Nines.”

June 29th, 2026
I’m stealing an idea from Laura Bruno Lilly (laurabrunolilly.com). In 2014, she wrote a post, musing about entering and exiting “the nines,” that is, the last year of one’s decade. You can read it here: Here’s to the Nines!

Up until my 60s, I looked forward to getting older. In fact, I’d argue that my 50s were my best decade (at least as of this writing). Then, as soon I turned 60, my body turned on me. I had been looking forward to my 60s, if for no other reason than I would be closer to retiring from state government. And even though my 60s started rough, I indulged in fantasies of spending my retirement going on long walks and bicycle rides and spending hours at the gym. I’d show my body who was boss!

Fast forward to now, this month, today.

Sixty-nine. 69. 6. 9. Backwards, 69 is 96. Okay, let’s not think about that.

The last time I felt trepidation with transitioning from one age to another was when I went from 40 to 41 and realized that I still didn’t have a “proper” career, I was still struggling with where I fit in the world.

I’m no longer worried about having a career (or even a job, thankfully), but as I lean into being 69, I am wondering where I fit in the world.

My body reminds me daily that my dream of an intensely physically active retirement was just that, a dream. Mind you, I still practice yoga twice a week, work out at the gym twice a week, and walk in my neighborhood at least twice a week. So I’m not a couch-potato. And yet …

In my mind and my heart, I still feel like that 41-year-old, adrift but with time enough ahead of me to figure things out. But how I see myself is, no doubt, radically different from how others see me. My anticipated stamina always falls short, as I learned when I recently spent time with my 4-year-old grandniece and 6-year-old grandnephew. Someone said that being around children keeps an old person young.

Ah, no, no, no, nope.

What really gets me about this whole aging thing is how altered my sense of time is. Time seems to travel at the speed of light: I’ve just turned 69 when I could have sworn that I hit the big 6-0 only yesterday. Yet when sitting in the doctor’s reception area or waiting for a light to turn green or checking my clock once more on a sleepless night, Time seems to plod forward like a tortoise.

The only time that Time seems to work for me is when I’m watching a Downey Woodpecker parent train its young to eat suet from the cage we have dangling from a pole. Or on those sleepless nights when Raji is nestled behind my knees and kicking my butt with his paws while he dreams of chasing pigeons. Or when I lose myself in my novel, or someone else’s novel. At those times and a few others, Time ceases to exist for a while. By the time I realize that Time has passed, it’s too late to worry about it.

I started writing this post two weeks ago, anticipating that I’d be obsessing about turning 69 on this day. Then, a couple of days ago, my husband shared with me a post by Timothy Snyder, Of Stoicism and Stupor. Snyder quotes from Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations:

“What a tiny part of the boundless abyss of time has been allotted to each of us, and this is soon vanished in eternity; what a tiny part of the universal substance and the universal soul; how tiny in the whole earth the mere clod on which you keep.”

I know little about stoicism, but this quote helped me realize that in my own small way, I’ve been and am stoic. I’ve always found more comfort in feeling that I am just a tiny part of the world, that so much out there is so much bigger and more beautiful than me. I don’t want the weight of responsibility and constant disappointment that comes with hubris, that comes with pride.

“Why then this stress, why not be content with an orderly passage through the brief span you have.”

Indeed, why not?

Under our current global and local circumstances, it might seem selfish to “be content.” And yet …

“Dig inside yourself,” wrote Marcus Aurelius, “inside there is a spring of goodness ready to gush at any moment, if you keep digging.”

So, this is my birthday present to me: to dig inside myself, find the goodness in me, see it in others, practice it, all the while knowing I’m a mere speck in this bright, vast universe.

My two fur babies who keep me grounded.

Raji napping.

Wendy napping.

Thank you for reading!

P.S. The featured photo is of a wasp and bee enjoying the flowers of our Clustered Mountain Mint.
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This Sea Within by Deborah J. Brasket: Blog Tour

June 13th, 2026
I am excited to be participating in a book blog tour for Deborah J. Brasket’s second novel, This Sea Within. I had read and reviewed her debut novel When Things Go Missing (which you can read here). To whet your appetite for this second novel, here’s the copy from the back cover as well as an excerpt from the first chapter.

How can anyone resist a book with this cover?

Back Cover

She came to find herself. She stayed to fight a revolution. Some waves you can’t outrun.

While American students protest the Vietnam war, rebellion brews below the border where a U.S.-backed dictator rules.

Lena Landon, an avid surfer and anti-war activist, wants to do something meaningful when she graduates with a degree in journalism. Feeling the sea’s restless energy pushing her toward some unknown destiny, she travels to San Balanque, her estranged mother’s homeland, to learn more about her Maya heritage.

There Lena teams up with fellow journalist Daniel Weatherly to interview the Aguileros fighting to overthrow Viktor Ortiz’s corrupt regime. Then she sees Raoul—the rebels’ charismatic leader—rising from a jungle pool. Everything changes. That dark wave sweeps her into a life she never imagined.

Lena’s transformation from pacifist to freedom fighter comes at a brutal cost as she witnesses the harsh realities of guerrilla warfare: executions, kidnapping, torture. All the while she guards a dangerous secret: her mother, the esteemed artist Dolores Machado, is married to the enemy—Ortiz’s Vice President and closest confidant.

As the revolution intensifies, Lena must decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice for love, justice, and a cause worth dying for.

Excerpt from Chapter One: Opening Paragraphs

Lena feels him before she sees him—the slow roll of the wave’s hip rising behind her, towering over her, propelling her forward. Heart pounding, she paddles furiously to keep him within her grasp, then pops-up in a low crouch on her surfboard, arms wide as she pulls in and out of the wave.

He’s everywhere, everything at once now—beneath her, above her, around her. Wave, body, board—all one slow motion as his arms wrap around her. She slips into the shimmering blue grotto of his body, thrilling at the sight, her fingers trailing his trembling flesh. He melts at her touch. She shivers with delight while dancing in and out of his reach and dissolving into one liquid moment of bliss. When the ride ends and wave, body, board, separate into their several selves, Lena kicks her board around and paddles out to start over.

Some see the ocean as a feminine presence, but Lena never has. How could she? All that power and restless energy, the sheer weight and bulk of it. Something in the sea’s dark, hypnotic presence, its great heaving muscles and ceaseless motion, calls to her. Calls to a restless yearning, a heated passion, stirring just below the surface of her skin.

Stars were still shivering in the cold, moist air when Lonny, her surfing buddy and best friend, picked her up in his van, eager to test the huge waves thundering up the coast from a hurricane blowing off Baja. He gave up after two wipe-outs, but Lena wasn’t ready to come in. When he beckons her to come ashore now, she holds up two fingers. Two more dances with the sea’s wanton waves, then she’ll come.

Her dad taught her to surf when she was six years old, one year after her mother left. One year after she almost lost him to the grief and sickness that followed. Surfing was the way they grew stronger together and closer without her. The way they learned they didn’t need her after all. They had each other.

At first, they surfed tandem, her lying prone in front as he paddled out on his longboard. By the time Lena turned ten she had her own board, lighter and shorter. She learned to brace herself against the biting cold of the breakers’ fiercely grinning teeth, to be as stubborn and fierce as the waves themselves. And once she was past them, she learned how to patiently await the perfect wave to ride, how to recognize the heft and weight of it rising behind her. She learned how strong and powerful she could become by surrendering to it as it surrendered to her. How to become one.

BIO

After sailing around the world with her husband and children, teaching literature to college students, and fighting for affordable housing as the leader of a nonprofit, Deborah J. Brasket finally settled down among the golden hills and vineyards of California’s central coast to write the kinds of novels she loves to read. Her debut novel When Things Go Missing was published in September 2025. Her second novel This Sea Within will be released on June 15, 2026.

www.deborahjbrasket.com

seastonepress@gmail.com

www.facebook.com/DeborahJBra sket

www.deborahbrasket.substack.com

www.instagram.com/dbrasket

www.linkedin.com/in/deborah-brasket

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Please bookmark this page and join us on the tour! You will have a chance to win a free copy of either This Sea Within or When Things Go Missing, Deborah’s debut novel. All you have to do is subscribe to her blog if you haven’t already and leave a comment on the participating sites listed below. Three lucky readers will receive their choice of an ebook.

Tuesday, June 9 – Teri M. Brown, Author and Host of Online for Authors podcast: PODCAST

Wednesday, June 10 – Beth Kennedy, Author and Blogger, I Didn’t Have My Glasses On: EXCERPT

Thursday, June 11 – Vicki Atkinson, Author and Blogger, Victoria Ponders : REVIEW

Saturday, June 13 – Marie Bailey, Writer and Blogger at 1 Write Way and Substack Newsletter: EXCERPT

Monday, June 15 – THIS SEA WITHIN RELEASE! Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, Bookshop.

Wednesday, June 17 – Dawn Pisturino, Author, Poet, Blogger, My Writing Journey: REVIEW

Friday, June 19 – Wynne Leon & Vicki Atkinson, Authors and Hosts of The Heart of the Matter podcast: PODCAST

Saturday, June 20 – Peter Springer, Teacher, Author, & Blogger at Pete’s Blog: REVIEW

This Sea Within is ready for pre-order at Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, and Bookshop.

Release Date, June 15, 2026.

Read more about This Sea Within, including reviews from early readers HERE.

Thank you for reading!

Raji getting caught playing with my husband’s boxer shorts.
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Five Things on This Day, Thursday, June 11, 2026

June 11th, 2026
Sunflowers

I’m growing sunflowers from seed, specifically Lemon Queen Sunflowers. I just planted these a few days ago so we’re surprised that they are already sprouting.

Taken Wednesday, June 10, 2026

This is a different plat (I have two), but the growth in just 24 hours has me happily surprised.

Taken Thursday, June 11, 2026.

This is my favorite photo so far … a bit of morning dew.

Sunflower sprout, each petal with a drop of dew.

Crazy plants

This Bolivian Hummingbird Sage was gifted to me by a neighbor. When I first came across it a few years ago, she had several in bloom. She gave me one, and that one has self-propagated into several stalks, but only one is blooming right now.

Bolivian Hummingbird Sage (Salvia oxyphora) with its first bloom of the season.

Knitting: Floating Waves Wrap

I’m still working on this wrap. I’m more than halfway done, thankfully. I do love this wrap, how light it is, and the colors. But I am ready for the knitting to be over. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a wonderful pattern … just ready to move on.

Floating Waves Wrap. Designed by Amy Christoffers.

Detail of Floating Waves Wrap. Designed by Amy Christoffers.

Knitting: Waffle Pullover

But I have finished the waffle pullover that I started in February. Actually, it’s been “done” for a long while; I just needed to wash it and prepare it for a long summer in the cedar chest.

Waffle Pullover selfie. Pullover designed by Amy Christoffers.

I expect I’ll be wearing this a lot in the winter. It’s a bit of an odd fit but that’s on me. The pullover is knit from the top down (i.e., starting at the neckline). That allows the knitter to try the sweater on as she goes, making adjustments as needed. In my case, I feared the armholes for my size might be too narrow, but I didn’t want to start over. Instead, I added stitches (i.e., width) to the armholes and now the sweater is kind of billowy boxy instead of just boxy. In other words, I have room to grow into it.

And even though I was checking the sleeve length as I went, I still wound up with sleeves past my wrists. In the photo, I have the cuffs turned over which is a good enough “fix.”

While I enjoyed knitting the Waffle Pullover (and I particularly love the color combination), the end result is a reminder of why I generally don’t knit sweaters: I’m never quite happy with how they turn out.

Knitting: The American Heirloom Blanket

So, while I’m still knitting the Floating Waves Wrap and have (so to speak) put to bed the Waffle Pullover, I am working on a blanket. Yup, a blanket. This project is being organized by Stix , a yarn shop in Montana, for their Big Sky Blanket Club 2026.

The “blocks” that we knit for the blanket are much like the blocks used in quilting. Over the course of the year, I’ll receive yarn and patterns for 12 blocks to knit and piece together. I have materials for three blocks now, but have only completed one.

Ohio Star block for Big Sky Blanket Club 2026

One down, eleven more to go. Meanwhile, my spinning wheel and weaving loom are getting dusty in their corners of the dining room.

Thank you for reading my five-things inventory for today. Here’s your reward …

Wendy aka Chunky Monkey down for the count.
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The Weight of Snow and Regret by Elizabeth Gauffreau: Book Review

June 3rd, 2026
Elizabeth Gauffreau’s latest novel, The Weight of Snow and Regret, is a poignant fictionalized account of the last poor farm in Vermont, a place where displaced people were sent, ostensibly to work, but mostly just to live because they were considered too ill for an unsupervised life, but not ill enough to be confined in a state institution. The novel is also about two women, so different from each other and yet so similar in their struggles to live wholly.

Gauffreau expertly teases out the stories of these two women, Claire and Hazel. She begins the novel with the mystery of Claire, a woman found ill-dressed for the Vermont winter, silent and close to starvation. Hazel manages the Sheldon Poor Farm where Claire is brought, and she manages to bring Claire back to life. Unlike the reader, she never learns the entirety of Claire’s story.

Gauffreau tells each woman’s story in her own words so eventually we learn what motivated Claire, a woman in her 40s with a husband and a teenage daughter, to leave her home in Louisiana and make an almost disastrous journey to Vermont.

We also learn about Hazel and her complicated relationship with her husband Paul and with the residents of the Sheldon Poor Farm, all the while with the closing of the farm hanging over their heads. Early in the novel, Gauffreau gives us a glimpse of Hazel’s relationship with Paul.

“What happened?” Paul said. “Where did she come from? I thought we weren’t taking new inmates.”

Hazel winced. After twenty years, would he never learn? “Residents, Paul.”

There’s tension between them, a tension borne not just out of hard, backbreaking, run-off-your-feet work, but, as we eventually learn, of deeper, irreversible experiences that would have destroyed any other couple.

Gauffreau tells Hazel’s story by going back and forth through time, each chapter revealing a bit more about this complicated woman, each chapter adding to a deeper understanding of this remarkable woman. She reminded me so much of my aunt Mildred who would have been Hazel’s peer: both women sculpted by the Great Depression, so stoic and hardworking, and beset by more tragedy than any one person should ever bear.

Gauffreau writes with a sensitivity that can only be gained through close and sympathetic observation. While she had to have undertaken extensive research to make this novel possible, the flow of her writing seems effortless.

In a pause between songs, a mournful cry drifted over the water, hung suspended before it cried again. Hazel lifted her head from Paul’s shoulder.

“What was that?”

“Loon. You never heard one before?”

“No, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. That’s how mates find each other in the dark.”

The Weight of Snow and Regret is written like a mystery novel, a detail here and a detail there to give depth and shape to the lives at the Sheldon Poor Farm. You keep reading because you want to know. You want to know why and how Claire wound up at the farm and then why she left. You want to know how on earth did Hazel and Paul meet and then marry and stay together. You want to know about each of the residents, why they are at the farm, and what will happen to them when the farm is closed.

And now, as with all good novels, it gets personal for me.

Often while engrossed in The Weight of Snow and Neglect, I thought of my father. Around the time I was born and through my teenage years, my father alternated between living at home with us and being confined at the Utica State Hospital (originally called the New York State Lunatic Asylum at Utica). Eventually he became too “well” for the institution, but not well enough to live unsupervised. My mother divorced him with I turned 18 but by then I think he was already living in a “halfway house.”

I never visited my father there. Although he wasn’t expected to work, he did have to share a home with several strangers. I don’t know what it was like for him because I never talked to him about it. But it probably would be too much to hope that he lived in a place like the Sheldon Poor Farm with Hazel to look after him. She would have seen his humanity and treated him with tender respect. She would have had him feel valued.

Thank you for reading. I hope this review encourages you to pick up a copy of Elizabeth Gauffreau’s novel The Weight of Snow and Regret. It is available in various formats at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Bookshop. I also highly recommend the audio version of this novel available at Audible and Libro.

You can also find Elizabeth and links to her other books at https://lizgauffreau.com.

I leave you with a photo of a couple of furry friends in upstate New York.

Ginger (dog) and Wolfie (cat) somewhat peacefully coexisting. Photo by a family member.
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Five Things on This Wednesday, May 20, 2026

May 20th, 2026
Home Ownership

We have a new garage door. When you’re a homeowner, a lot of things become a priority that you’d just as soon not deal with. My husband and I are expert at kicking the can down the road until we have no choice but to deal with it. In this case, the garage door, after 45 years, decided it no longer wanted to open without my husband’s help. We’re not getting any younger so …

Voila! A garage door with windows!

Let the sun shine in!

It will be nice not to have to turn on a light every time we enter the garage.

Family

We visited my nephew and his family in South Carolina this weekend. Our first visit, but not our last. He has two teenage sons and a 6-year-old boy and (almost) 4-year-old girl. The drive from our home to Columbia was long (about 10 hours start to finish); the way home was only an hour shorter. But it was well worth it to have quality time with my nephew and his family and to be (at times) commandeered by his two youngest. For the most part, they considered us as furniture and spent a goodly amount of time sitting or lying on our laps. I had hoped to see a bit of Columbia itself, but once we were there, we just wanted to be with family.

Health

The last few weeks were spent seeing a lot of my orthopedic doctor as we (once again) tried a treatment to alleviate most of the pain in my left knee. Fortunately, I really like my doctor. She’s young, she listens, and she’s, overall, very cool. I received a series of hyaluronic acid injections as expected but she also removed a large amount of inflammatory fluid before each injection. Ick.

While my knee will never feel 100% great, I’m having a lot less pain. Fingers crossed it stays that way for a long while.

Flowers

It’s starting to bloom around here.

Saffflower

Stoke’s Aster

Egyptian Star-Cluster

Woodland Poppy mallow

Cats

Raji and Wendy have a way of reminding me to enjoy the simple things in life, like the perfect sun squares for napping.

It’s so rare to see them willing to face each other while sleeping.

Thank you for reading!
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Woot! WE DID IT!

April 12th, 2026
As of this writing, Knit for Food has raised $541,032, more than what we raised last year! Donations will be distributed equally to No Kid Hungry, Meals on Wheels, Feeding America, and World Central Kitchen.

My little team of one raised $305 and based on the number of donors (and, yes, I include myself), I’ll be sending $50 to a local food bank, Second Harvest of the Big Bend. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

This was an exciting and fun fundraiser during an extremely difficult time for our country. My deepest gratitude to everyone who contributed, either by knitting or donating or both. It just goes to show what we can do when we do it together.

As far as my knitting goes …

Floating Squares Wrap designed by Amy Christoffers at savoryknitting.com

This design plus these yarns …

Rowan Kidsilk Haze

In the above photo, you can see the sample I had started to test the pattern. Then I got serious.

The start of the Floating Squares Wrap.

The end of knitting for the day

As you can see from the two photos above, several hours of knitting didn’t get me very far. I consider myself a fast knitter, but the yarn is quite fuzzy and thin. I need to knit slowly otherwise I’ll be dropping stitches.

So … My butt is tired and my fingers are tired, but I’m looking forward to continuing my work on this wrap. And I am just so thankful to have been a part of this wonderful experience. Many thanks to all of you who supported me.

At the end of the day, Wendy signals her desire for food by sitting at attention … and blocking Greg’s view of the TV.
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The Knit-a-thon Starts NOW!

April 11th, 2026
Here we go … just a few minutes after 10 AM, the Knit for Food Knit-a-thon begins.

Yes, I could have done a better job with this video.

For those who can’t view the video, here’s what I’m knitting: Floating Squares Wrap designed by Amy Christoffers.

I’ll be knitting with Rowan Kidsilk Haze, 70% mohair, 30% silk.

I love the colors, but I really don’t like knitting with mohair. This knit-a-thon will help me get through this particular project.

If you want to donate to my team of one, or just want more information, please use this link: Team Marie at Knit for Food Knit-a-thon

For every donor (including me), I’ll will give $5 to a local food bank, Second Harvest of the Big Bend.

The clock is ticking, I gotta start knitting. See you all later!

Raji zonked out with my sweater-in-progress keeping his butt warm.
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Very Friendly Reminder: Knit for Food Knit-a-Thon 2026

April 4th, 2026
From the official Knit For Food website at https://givebutter.com/knitforfood26/team-marie-in-tallahassee/mariebailey

I’ve been remiss in promoting this fundraiser, and now it’s only a week away! On April 11, I will knit for (roughly) 12 hours in support of four major charitable organizations:

Feeding America

World Central Kitchen

No Kid Hungry

Meals on Wheels

In just a few weeks, Knit for Food has raised over $283,000, well within reach of the overall goal of $300,000. Last year we raised OVER $500,000 so my fingers are crossed that we exceed our goal this year.

Please note that 100% of the donations will be shared equally among Feeding America, World Central Kitchen, No Kid Hungry, and Meals on Wheels.

I still have not decided what I’ll be knitting. As it is, I have more knitting projects lined up than there are days in the month so I’ll be able to keep myself busy. That’s not the problem. What I’ve been stymied by is whether to offer a knitted item as a gift in order to encourage donations.

Last year, I gave knitted items to randomly selected donors, and that was fun. Yet, I’ve been feeling I need to do something different this year. So many more people in the U.S. are hurting and struggling this year than last. I want to make more of an impact, even if it is still just a drop in the bucket. So …

For every person who donates to my team, I will give $5 to a local food bank, Second Harvest of the Big Bend.

This not an original idea. On Facebook, another knitter posted that she was going to do this instead of offering gifts, and her message sung to me.

To those of you who have already donated to my team, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart.

To those who might be thinking about it, please know that no donation is too small. If you donate $5, I will still put $5 toward Second Harvest.

So, if you wish to donate, here’s the link to my team of one: https://givebutter.com/knitforfood26/team-marie-in-tallahassee/mariebailey

Of course, any cheerleading you can offer will also be greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading and for your support.

Raji in one of his happy places.
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