An internal storm has been raging, though the sun is shining.
Now it is predicted that another snowstorm is brewing.
I am gathering scraps of yarn and weaving in shades of winter.
A web of sorts, a place to rest my mind and body while it heals.
He gathered wood to burn while I collected scraps of yarn to weave
The colors of bleak mid-winter are rather calming when woven together
Sun on yarn and the weave of the basket that holds it
Weaving together a bit of this and a bit of that
And it seems I have a helper, to keep my yarn stash warm.
To her is is a throne.
Miss Mia is afraid of storms.
I tend to find them calming.
We disagree on this one thing.