Time flows on apace here in Midgard. Another year is nearing its close. The humans have entered what I call the Fussing Season. Gifts to make and wrap, parties to attend, lists to make, lists of lists to make, and lights on anything that will stand still long enough to be be-tinseled.
Still, there is some emphasis on slowing down, becoming still and centered. Not easy, in this house, but they do try.
Apparently part of this slowing-down-and-waiting-thoughfully is the wearing of purple or violet. Now, my contention is that violet looks good on no one, but the human female has insisted on unearthing an obnoxiously-hued sweater from the mending basket so that she can wear it.
She bought it years and years ago, and embellished the neckline with matching beads.
It began life as a cardigan, open up the middle front, but she sewed it shut to wear as a pullover. It was not, trust me, flattering in that configuration, so recently she undid the doing-up and returned it to its former state.
Despite better judgment and turning a deaf ear to my pointing out that it makes her look like a grossly swollen, overripe mulberry, she wore it.
She wore it precisely once and has now discovered that somehow, it has mysteriously acquired a hole smack in the middle of the back.
Tsk, tsk! What a pity! What an absolute shame that you can’t wear it now! I suppose you’ll just have to hope someone gives you a replacement for Yule…