I saw a swallow today – a violet-green swallow, to be exact! When the swallows return, I know that summer will come. I stood beside the mailbox and said, “Ah, the first swallow. Summer will come.” All solemn-like. In autumn, it is the reverse. When I realize that the swallows have gone, I stand by the mailbox and say, “Ah, the swallows have gone. Winter will come.” Again, it is a solemn moment.

Now what have swallows to do with knitting, one might, reasonably (perhaps impatiently) wonder. Aside from the swallow on Dalegarn Svale yarn labels and a particular brand of double-pointeds called “Swallow,” not much (though, personally, I think it is kind of remarkable that one can pull something out of the air, like a swallow, and find two legitimate , if trivial, connections).

However, the next thought I had, after the summer-will-come one, was “Dang, I haven’t finished Jordan’s Christmas socks yet.” Knitting guilt is like that, springing up in odd places (i.e., beside the mailbox and under a swallow).