Mending the soul. Filling in holes with wool.

Jumbo snowflake dances and winter chill hits the soul, and from the knitting box the colorful yarn rolls. A knitting needle swift enough to knit poem into a cardigan, knitting my stress away and having loads of fun! Filling in holes with wool in the depth of the frozen day, Spring are you there? Yet again my heart prays. I cannot count my day complete, till needle, yarn and fingers meet. Memories are stitched with love. Keep calm and carry Yarn.

Grandma, knits were love in every stitch; knitted in hard times.

Warm your soul with positive thoughts. Otherwise you're gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul.

The daylight is cold and there's a tang of turning leaves in the air. They split themselves from the twig, swirl and ballet in the space. Leaves are lessening from the trees, as if, they have lived there life this season. They plunge in the arm of Mother Nature and she greets them in her own spongy way.

How cold is this season! Even the lights are cold; they have put shawls of fog around them, see! Winter’s knocking at the door. Now, November's fire burns slowly along the woods, they blend with autumn zephyrs sighing; tone and color, frost and fire. The fire burns and kettle sings.