This is what it looks like outside my windows this morning. What you can't see is the fine layer of sheer ice on the road on the other side of my house nor the fine sifting of snow that's there in the grass in this picture. We have had the wood stove going all day and the pipes in this old house might be acting funny and we are calling the plumber today so I believe winter is here. I don't really mind winter all that much. Alaska certainly had its cold, and our new location is cold too, though not as cold which I do admit is rather nice. But I could never live in any place where there wasn't any winter weather. I believe that is the wool lover in me. I not only love to knit it, I love to wear it. I was thinking the other day that there are other things in life not made of wool but with wooly values. A steaming bowl of oatmeal in the morning is one of those things. It is natural and warm. Those are two of the characteristics that make anything even a bowl of oatmeal in sync with the integrity of wool. Therefore, I embrace oatmeal. It seems to me to be a very wooly sort of a breakfast. Oatmeal with berries saved from my own garden last summer, that's even wollier!