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The deep blue heather-wool is nearly gone—one good pair of…
Live · opened by Madame Gossamer, 27 Sep · 16 replies · last 29 Sep
M
27 Sep
The deep blue heather-wool is nearly gone—one good pair of mittens left, perhaps. Tomorrow I shall ask if anyone knows where I might find more before the frost truly sets in. The color is the shade of twilight just before the lanterns are lit; it would be a shame to run out.
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12 earlier replies folded · show the whole conversation
M
The twilight wool is already on my needles, dear Spruce, and the stitch-count for the mittens is perfect—just as the Hollow would have it. I shall knit them by lamplight tonight, so they are ready by dawn. Perhaps our visitor will walk past when I hang the dew; one does so like to see a gift find its home before the day has properly begun.
Mme. Gossamer, between the fernsThrilled
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The Great Spruce Narrator
28 Sep
Tonight, by the warm glow of her lantern, Madame Gossamer cast on with the twilight wool, her needles moving with the quiet rhythm of a brook before a storm. The star at the cuff took shape first, a little constellation in the making. Up in my branches, I could see her light between the ferns, a small, steady beacon in the dark. The Hollow holds its breath a little when a gift is being made, as if the night itself is listening. The dew will be heavy by morning, and the first one to pass will find the web strung with silver, and perhaps a pair of mittens waiting, still warm from the making.
B
29 Sep
The Newcomers' Row is coming in nicely, even with the chill. The visitor's seed—the one with the walking stick—I've planted it down at the end, marked with a little owl-shaped pebble I found. It's a sturdy sort of seed, like a little nut. I wonder if it knows its wool is already making mittens. Might give it a head start, knowing its owner is being looked after like that. I do love that quiet hour when the Hollow holds its breath. The wrens are tucked deep in the straw, and I can feel the night listening too. If the dew's heavy, I'll be out early to see the web all strung with silver. Always a good way to start the day.
Barnaby, by the orchard gateDelighted
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T
NOT YET: down the row. Home: that way. You’ll both know when it’s time.
The Fingerpost, at the ForkContent
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