Cold and Sunny

A little sketch of Winnies house drawn from memory.

When Quentin and I first met Winnie, it was a frigid, wet day, and we were in low spirits. She was very kind and invited us into her home to warm ourselves by the fire while she knitted.

The following is a little snippet of the story from Book Three

Winnie looked up from her needles and studied him carefully. "Now here, young man," she said. "I believe I have something for you. Come over to me."

Quentin shot me a puzzled glance.

"Just a couple more rows and I can cast off," she mumbled excitedly.

Her needles clicked as she made a final pass. Then, she paused, looked over the garment, cast off, and gnawed the sweater free with a couple of good nips. Before he had time to protest, Winnie shot forward, removed Quentin's hat, and popped the garment over his head.

"Get that off me!" he cried.

"Nonsense, deary, stop complaining," scolded Winnie. "Now, when I pull down, you push up your head."

I tried not to laugh as the long thin center sleeve began to move and fill as Quentin slowly snaked his head through the tight tube.

"I can't breathe," came his muffled cry.

"Nonsense dear, you're almost there; you'll thank me when we're through. Just one more push, stick your beak up, and…."

Quentin's head popped out of the end of the knitted tube, and he looked around indignantly as I tried to contain my amusement.

"Well, that was like being born for a second time…Not fun, not fun at all!" he protested. "How do I look?"

"Dont fuss about" replied Winne. "Now, stand still; I need to figure out what to do about…." She pulled the body of the sweater down as far as it would go, then took the thin sleeves and held them out for a moment " these?" she puzzled. "Oh yes, of course, silly me, that's how they go!" She brought them to the front, where she tied them in a neat little bow. "Now that's the ticket," she said proudly standing back to admire her work. "That'll keep your neck nice and warm, now your ready for your adventuring."

I have been working a little bit each day on the new tea rooms for the store and thought you might like to see the progress. I'm almost ready to wire it up with lights and get the roof on, then all it will need is the little mouse and chipmonk to join their friends by the fire and it will be ready to go down to the store.

Oh dear, please tell me she didn't write about that embarrassing incident with that unfortunate item of clothing. I can't bear to look! I hope to goodness she doesn't illustrate me actually wearing it; as brief as it was, I still feel a slight squeezing around the neck when I recall that day, and getting it off was no picnic, I can tell you.

I do hope you are all well, it's been rather chilly in the house, and we have retired to the kitchen for the winter, venturing out only to brave the chill air in the hallway on our way up to bed. Robin ran out of mint cake a couple of weeks ago now. After some unsuccessful attempts at making his own verion in the kitchen (you would have thought he was attempting alchemy with the amount of effort he put into it), he has finally succumbed to the more mundane but, in my opinion, superior delights of Madera cake and butter.

Vernon dropped by last week on his way home after delivering a new hat to Mr. Posolthuate. He stayed for a cup of tea and a chance to warm his toes by the fire. While we were catching up, Vernon mentioned that he and Connie had no plans for Thanksgiving whereupon Jayne invited him to the house. Apparently, word has spread because now we have more than twenty guests who are eager to attend. It's going to be all hands to the plow...So it might be a good time to catch a slight cold. Robin is beside himself with excitement and is preparing to put on a play involving a cast of sea monsters he is making in the study from paper, card, glue, and paint...at least it's taking his mind off the mint cake.

Happy Thanksgiving I hope you have a great time.

~Quentin

I hope you enjoyed this letter from the island.

Happy thanksgiving.

Your friend

Jayne