Between seasons, between projects

On late August evenings, idle needles and casting on with no plan whatsoever.

It’s late August.
There’s a cool edge to the breeze sneaking in through the kitchen window.
Your feet are still defiantly in sandals; your torso draped in a slouchy, cosy jumper.
There’s a teacup balanced precariously on a half-finished linen shawl that’s suddenly lost all momentum.

It’s the kind of evening where you don’t know whether to cast on or take a …