Kid stuff.

Today I walked home from the train and when I got to our entryway mailbox, I had to dig in my bag for my keys. I only had so much room to dig, so I used my teeth to pull off my mitten and hold it delicately so my lips wouldn't touch it while my un-mittened hand dug for the keys.

Unfortunately, I was using a new bag with lots of tiny pockets for the first time, so the digging took longer than I thought it would. Before I could do anything about it, I was exhaling through my mouth, almost dropping the bag, almost dropping the mitten with my teeth...

So I held onto my mitten like it was a big, double stick popsicle, mouth closed, no hands. And you know what that mitten tasted like?

Winter.

Try tasting a season through yarn today in Oak Park: