October round up.

Back at the beginning of the month, I was riding a delightful little wave — fresh off the triumph of my knitted pixie boots. Confidence boosted, heart full, and utterly smitten with those whimsical foot-huggers, I decided it was time to embark on a sock journey.

And what a journey it’s been.

I’ve wrestled with DPNs, tangoed with Trio needles, and flirted with a 9-inch round. Some methods were kinder than others. Currently, I’m experimenting with the idea of knitting socks flat on two needles. Have I completed a sock yet? Absolutely not. I keep getting tangled in the Bermuda Triangle of sock knitting: the heel turn. I did it for the boots — so why not socks?

I’ve tried different patterns. I’ve watched videos. I’ve read blog posts that promised “easy socks” (lies, all lies). I haven’t given up, though. I’m now considering a method that claims to “take the pain out of heels.” We’ll see about that.

Amidst the sock chaos the mohair project has made quiet, fuzzy progress. Not much — just a gentle row or two before work — but enough to remind me that not all yarn tangles, and not all stitches fight back.

It’s the kind of knitting that doesn’t demand much, just a soft touch and a bit of patience. And in a month like October, that’s been more than welcome.

Meanwhile, life has been busy. Work gobbled up most of the month with extra shifts, and the few days off I did get were spent running errands and chasing chores. I’m currently on day two of a brief reprieve after an eight-day stint — and tomorrow I dive into another seven-day stretch. Crafty time has been scarce. Grandchild cuddles even scarcer. I’m feeling the withdrawal. 

October also brought a head cold that clung on far longer than anticipated. It’s mostly gone now, but I’ve been left with a cough that refuses to pack its bags — and every time it rattles through, it tweaks my back like a mischievous gremlin.

I’d been hoping to stretch out my chiropractic visits to once a fortnight. That dream was short-lived. On the first day of an eight-day work stretch, I was sent to help out in my old role — all seemed well until I woke in the middle of the night in full spasm mode. Back to three visits a week. Every cough now comes with a bonus wince.

Let’s just say October didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat. But I’m still standing (mostly upright), still knitting (mostly socks), and still hopeful that November might bring a little more ease — and maybe even a completed heel.

Spring has supposedly arrived here in New Zealand. Some days, it shows — we bask in glorious sunshine, temperatures tipping over 20°C. Then a Southerly storm barrels up the islands. Felling trees, ripping of roofs, causing road closures and landslides, power outages and chaos everywhere it goes, and dumping a huge load of snow over the mountains and foothills. 

All around us, towns scrambled to clean up. Insurance companies braced themselves. Tradesmen weighed up who needed them most urgently. And Timaru? 

Timaru had a bit of weather.

No flooding. No damage. No chaos. Just a few gusts and a collective shrug

Just when October seemed determined to test my patience to it's very limits, a little burst of joy arrived in the cherry tree. While bustling about in the kitchen, I caught sight of a flutter and a flurry — and there she was: Mrs Goldfinch, perched proudly in a tiny nest, right at eye level.

She’s been there ever since, snug and serene, keeping watch over what I hope are soon-to-be hatchlings. I peek out every time I pass through, and it’s become a quiet ritual — a reminder that even in tangled sock yarn and sore backs, life finds a way to surprise us with sweetness.

Babies are coming. And I, for one, am thrilled.

October, you’ve been a menace. Socks unfinished, my back in revolt, and weather with a flair for destruction. You swept in with storms, stolen my days off, and left me coughing and cranky. Frankly, I’m thrilled to see the back of you.

Here’s to November — may it be gentler, brighter, and far less dramatic. I’m ready for baby birds, finished socks, and a spine that behaves itself, time with my Grandchildren and our wedding anniversary.  It's Joe and Lee's anniversary too. 

“Rest? Interrupted. Socks? Progressing. Onions? Uninvited.”

 Did I say three days off? Honestly, who was I trying to kid?

Wednesday was quiet. Blissfully so. But by Thursday, my old boss rang—could I help out? I politely declined. I suspect I could’ve bargained her down to just a few hours, but truth be told, I didn’t want it. Not this time.

Then this morning, while I was out at the washing line at 7:15, Helen called. My new boss. Could I help out this evening? Just 2–3 hours, just the drug round, anything—please help. She sounded so ill and stressed. Of course I said yes.

Ten minutes later, Debbie again. Could I help this morning? Sorry, Helen beat you to it.

So here I go. Off to work for some extra hours. LOL.

I had a chat with Debbie—everyone’s sick. Some are soldiering through like I did, others are calling in. I see more extra hours in my future. This head cold is proving stubborn. I’m still coughing, still waking up with a blocked nose every morning.

But in between the calls and the coughs, I made progress. My pink sock is coming along beautifully—yesterday’s stitches flew by, and I’m hoping to turn the heel before I head off to work. I’m still completely in love with this yarn. It’s soft, cheerful, and lovely to knit with. 

And speaking of sock adventures—I’ve just ordered a 9-inch Sock Wonder needle. It looks awfully short, and I did wonder if a whole sock could really fit on it. My pal Janice assures me it will. I’m not brave enough to transfer my current sock onto it, so I’ll wait until I start the second one before giving it a go. Fingers crossed it’s as lovely to work with as the yarn itself.

It’s BBQ season here in the South, and that means the return of all the trusty salads. One of the most beloved? The good old potato salad.

But if, like Tony and I, you’re keeping an eye on carbs, this twist is worth a try. It’s light, flavourful, and—best of all—easily tweakable. 

Cauliflower 'potato' salad. 

1 head of cauli, cut into bite size pieces.

3 hard boiled eggs, chopped.

3/4 cup of mayo

1/4 cup of red onion finely chopped.

3 tablespoons dill pickles minced or very finely diced.

2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar.

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard.

1/2 teaspoon celery salt

1/2 teaspoon dill

Salt and Pepper to taste.

Microwave or steam the cauli to your desired texture. Don't boil it, your salad will be soggy.

Add the pickles, onion and egg to a bowl and stir to combine.

Put the vinegar, mustard and seasonings into a bowl or jug and mix well.

Add the cauli while still warm to the egg mixture and pour over the dressing. Stir to combine.

Store in the fridge. Allow it to sit for at least an hour, but the longer it sits, the better it will taste. 

I’m taking this along to a friend’s place tomorrow, and since she’s allergic to onions—and just about everything in the onion family—I left out the red onion. But I still wanted that splash of colour, so in went some very finely chopped red cabbage. It worked beautifully.

In the past, I’ve used spring onions when I didn’t have red, and they add a nice bite. Crispy fried bacon is another great addition if you’re feeling indulgent.

And a quick word to the wise: I made sure to read the ingredient lists on the pickle and mustard jars—those sneaky onion and garlic relatives can hide in the fine print. Always worth a double-check when cooking for sensitive tummies.

A tweak I've been dreaming about, but I didn't try yet is a curried version. Omit the pickles, vinegar and mustard. Add a couple of tablespoons of sour cream to the mayo, and instead of celery salt and dill, add a spoon or two of your favourite curry powder. 

A quarter cup of frozen sweet corn would work in either the original or curried version too.

That’s my recipe for the month—tweaked, tested, and onion-free. 

Do you have a favourite salad that’s easily tweakable? Something that shows up at every BBQ, or a quiet little bowl that surprises everyone? Share your go-to combos, your fridge-foraged triumphs, or your best “oops, that worked!” moments.

Wool Gathering....

 Finally, I’ve reached the part of my roster I truly love—three uninterrupted days off. Well, that’s the plan. The phone is back on silent, and I’m hoping for no unexpected calls or errands.

Today began slowly, just the way I like it. Chores first, then a quiet sit-down with my knitting. I’ve cast on my first raspberry sock, and I’m giving those trio-style needles a proper trial. So far, I think I’m making good progress.

The yarn is a delight—shifting shades of purple and pink that bloom from ball to fabric, like a quiet sunrise stitched into each row. As I knit, it surprises me. In the ball, the colours nestle like petals—raspberry, blush, and a good dash of cream. But once knit, they don’t stripe or ripple. Instead, they soften and blur, creating a gentle marled texture—like watercolour on wool.

The cream that was so evident in the ball is now knitted and stirred into the stitches—no longer a bold presence, but a quiet breath beneath the pinks and purples. It’s softened into suggestion, letting the berry tones take the lead.

The trio needles are taking a little getting used to. I’m not sure yet if I’m more or less comfortable with these than the traditional DPNs. The rhythm is different—less clatter, more flex—but my hands haven’t quite decided if they like the change. I’ll persevere and see how things go. For now, the stitches are behaving, and the sock is growing. That’s enough.

*

Progress is also being made on the mohair sweater. It’s slow going—just a row or two here and there—but that’s okay. I’m not in a hurry. The yarn is light, the stitches are airy, and the pace suits me.

I have to say, the swap from 6.5 mm sweater needles to 2.5 mm sock needles is a leap. The mohair needles felt chunky, almost clumsy—like holding garden stakes. These sock needles are fine, precise, almost dainty. My fingers have to recalibrate, relearn the rhythm. But there’s something comforting in that shift. The smaller needles nestle into my hands differently, asking for a gentler touch. It’s a quieter kind of knitting, and I’m finding my way

*

In my last post, I hinted that I might have been shopping—for sock yarn, of course. And now, the evidence is here. No pinks or purples this time—just a bold, beautiful mix of mossy greens, stormy blues, chalky greys, and even a dash of sunset orange. Each skein feels like a story waiting to be told.

There’s Opal’s forest-toned celebration yarn, with its misty blues and glacier whites—like a walk through alpine shadows. Then there’s the holiday skein, with cheerful hints of greens and reds, like a sock-sized postcard from somewhere warm and festive. 

               

The Mandala wool leans into teal and maroon, deep and moody like a twilight tidepool. 

    

                  

And that Chalkhill Blue from West Yorkshire Spinners? It’s a butterfly wing in yarn form—delicate, dappled, and quietly wild.

I’m not sure which one I’ll cast on next. For now, they’re nestled beside the couch, waiting patiently. Like ingredients in a well-stocked pantry, they’ll reveal their true personalities when the time is right.

*

Twice recently, I’ve been gifted bags of yarn—some full balls, some curious little ends, each one a mystery in colour and ply.  I feel so lucky, so quietly blessed to receive these leftovers. There’s something generous and hopeful in yarn passed from one maker to another. They’ve all been added to the stash, tucked in beside the other odds and ends, waiting patiently for their turn. I suspect a scrappy crochet project is brewing somewhere in the background. It’s not planned yet, but the yarn knows. It always does.

*

It’s fair to say I’ve been bitten by the knitting bug. The sock yarn stash has grown, the needles are in rotation, and my hands seem to know what they want—at least for now. But crafting, for me, has always been a cycle. I’ve shifted from patchwork to crochet, wandered through EPP and cross stitch, and now I’m deep in knitting again. Round and round it goes, each phase bringing its own rhythm and comfort. I wonder where the next change will take me?

Do your crafting moods change too? Do you find yourself drawn to different fibres, colours, or tools depending on the season—or the week? I’d love to hear what’s on your needles, or what’s waiting patiently in your stash for its turn.

Socks, Cherry Blossoms and Cough Drops.

 There hasn’t been a huge amount happening here since I last wrote—just the usual shifts at work, plus an extra thrown in for good measure. I’ve taken the liberty of putting my phone on silent for yesterday and today, just in case work gets any ideas. I think I’ve earned my days off, and I intend to keep them.

I’ve had a sore throat lingering for a few days now. Not enough to make me miserable, but just enough to be noticed—especially at night, when it seems to settle in like an unwelcome guest. I’m not sure if this is the whole show or just the opening act, but for now I’m keeping it at bay with sugar-free cough sweets and quiet defiance.

Aside from work and throat-soothing rituals, it’s been the usual domestics. The other day, while emptying the bins, I spotted a pair of Tony’s rather expensive merino socks tossed in with the rubbish. One toe had worn through—but I only bought them a few weeks ago! No way were they going to landfill. I sat down and repaired the holey toe. It’s not the tidiest job in the world, but it’s certainly cheaper than buying new ones. Besides, there’s something satisfying about saving a sock from an untimely end. Let’s just say the socks weren’t the only thing in need of attention. I may have hinted that a toenail trim could save future wool casualties.

I treated myself to a set of those trio- needles to try out on my next pair of socks. Knitting up those pixie boots recently gave me a taste for sock-making again. I might just have another go—especially since I’ve got that lovely raspberry-coloured yarn waiting patiently in the wings. And yes, there may be more pretty sock yarn on the way. I’m not making promises, but the stash might be expanding.

The mohair sweater is coming along slowly—just a row or two here and there—but I’m happy with how it’s shaping up. It’s a quiet kind of progress, the sort that suits the season.

Speaking of seasons, the cherry trees in our garden continue their dance. The big tree is now mostly green, having shed its blossoms, but the little tree is in full bloom. Anyone standing beneath its branches will hear the gentle hum of bees, busy with their day. It’s a lovely sound—like nature’s own machine, stitching spring into place.

I’ve been playing with my chocolate and coconut slice again. Did I mention the peanut version? I added chopped peanuts and three generous tablespoons of peanut butter to a batch, and Tony absolutely loved it. Then I tried crushed freeze-dried raspberries in the next round—another delicious twist. It’s become a bit of a ritual now, tweaking the recipe and watching the smiles.

So that's me for now. A quiet week, in more ways than one. Now I'm off to put a chilli con carne in the slow cooker, what's for tea in your house tonight?

Voirrey Thistlewinks Boots.

So you know by now that I stumbled upon a knitting pattern for the cutest wee boots—turned-up toes, and a cuff of leaves circling the ankle like a forest whisper. I fell in love instantly and knew I had to make some.

I have no one small enough to wear pixie boots, and I hadn’t knitted in the round with DPNs for years. Even then, I’d only made three tiny baby socks. But I was determined. I was going to knit myself some pixie boots.

I had a vision—a dream, really—of a Faerie who came in from the cold, just wanting to be warm for a while. Then, caught off guard, she ran off barefoot, leaving her boots behind. That whimsical tale grew stitch by stitch as I knitted.

My first effort was ripped out, but I wasn’t deterred. I started again, a little tidier, a little wiser. The first completed boot still wasn’t perfect, but it taught me what I needed to know. The pair to the first was better, easier going. And this morning a surprise snowfall gave me the perfect excuse to stay home, sit down and finish the last of the leaves around the ankle.

The leaves knit up quickly, and before I knew it, I was slipping the second boot onto my DIY sock blocker. And finally this Faerie tale was born.

Voirrey Thistlewinks Boots.

She came in from the frost with a whispering tread,

A faerie in search of warmth amid yarn and thread.

She slipped past the fabric to a crafty retreat,

Where scissors hung sharp and the projects ran deep.

In boots knit from twilight and thistle’s own thread,

Voirrey danced softly where a crafters dreams spread.

An Inneen ny Shee, with a secretive grace,

She vanished, a whisper still warming the space.

Now resting alone with a whimsical toe,

Turned upward like laughter where faeries might go.

Their cuffs are all leafy, a green-stitched bouquet—

Two booties now waiting to dance the spring day.

*

A Note on Manx Folklore

Inneen ny Shee (pronounced in-yen nuh shee) is Manx Gaelic for “Girl of the Fairies.” In Manx tradition, the Shee are fairy folk—secretive, nature-bound, and often glimpsed at twilight. An Inneen ny Shee might be a gentle visitor, a mischief-maker, or a guardian of hidden places.

Voirrey is a Manx version of Mary, often linked to fairies and folklore. Soft, secretive, and Fae approved, it felt like just the right name for the owner of the boots supposedly left behind in my craft room.

I wonder what you make of Voirrey’s boots and my imaginings. Feel free to share—this corner of the internet is always open to a bit of whimsy.

*

Still here after my imaginings? You’ll be wondering what comes next after the completion of that little obsession. Another squirrel, of course.

Do you recall when I found the pattern for the mohair sweater my lovely mum knitted for me back when I was about 16 or 17? I started it the other night. I needed a break from the 2.75 mm needles and the 4-ply yarn—my eyes and fingers were beginning to complain. The mohair and the 6 mm needles were on hand, so I cast on the back of the sweater. There’s a lovely 2x2 rib in progress, soft and rhythmic.

To my surprise, the mohair isn’t nearly as troublesome as I feared. It’s behaving—mostly—and I’m very much enjoying the change of texture. I think I’ve found my next mindless TV project. It’s the kind of knitting that lets the story unfold on screen while the stitches grow quietly in my lap.

*

We’ve reached that time in my roster where I get three whole days off. Unless the phone rings, which seems unlikely this week. With only a few chores, a quick grocery shop, and a visit to the chiropractor on Friday afternoon, the rest of the time is mine.

So what to do with all of that time? 

**

Post Script

There’s always a phone call, isn’t there? Just as I was off editing photos and admiring Voirrey’s leafy cuffs, the phone rang. So, this evening I’m working a short shift—just four hours. Not too bad, really. Enough time to be useful, not enough to unravel the mohair mood. The boots will wait, the blog will post, and the squirrel will find me again tomorrow.