The air has been blessedly still since 5:30 a.m. I am so enjoying the break from the thundering roar of wind, the soundtrack of the past week. Until just now, I hadn't realized how much this restless, incessant sound has been wearing on my nerves. Unrelenting gusts thrashing against doors; ice and snow peppering windows.  

I've recently discovered Felicity Ford's blog, The Domestic Soundscape,  which has me thinking about the sounds that accompany life. I associate certain sounds with certain times of day at the farm: the morning is full of hungry, insistent baahs, (which are different from the friendly baahs I get at other moments throughout the day); the lumbering growl of the school bus as it makes the rounds; the distant hum of my neighbor's tractor depositing hayledge in the field for the Galloways near dusk. I woke this morning to the sound of almost nothing. Bliss.

I love quiet time before chores to get my thoughts in order. This morning I am tweaking my syllabus for the handspinning classes I am teaching at WEBS later this month and also working on a new class, Winter Wool Sampler to be offered at Metaphor Yarns in February. Every so often I revisit my class outlines. When I've reached the point where I feel I could teach a class in my sleep, it's time to revisit the lesson plan and rethink the content and approach. I've done this throughout my teaching career, mostly to keep myself challenged and to keep things from feeling stale. 

Snuck outside a little while ago to catch this image of the southeast sky, hoping the wind stays still for morning chores.

Good day!