Nearly 30 years ago, my in-laws had the imagination, chutzpah, and foresight to buy an abandoned barn on nearly an acre of land on a lovely island off the coast of Massachusetts. Over the years, they added on rooms in a not quite random, but definitely quirky, fashion: bunk beds built into hallway walls, 4 squeaky beds tucked under the attic eaves. No insulation, no TV, and definitely no air conditioning.
Despite the thin walls, unending number of Daddy Long Leg spiders, and dampness that comes from part of the house being below grade, it’s one of my favorite places on earth. The sea air is wondrous, and the night sky is bright with starlight, except when the fog rolls in and obscures the view.
I’m working on my first pair of fingerless mitts: Berry Hill by Liz Thompson. And last week, during a wonderful stretch of days with my sweet Patrick, I popped into the local hospital thrift store and discovered a bag of yarn that was calling out to me. Four skeins plus a bit more for $8.00 — how could I not?
Saltwater Hill Knits 