The excuse-the expectation-to bake also played a large part in her personal delight. To finally see one another after strenuously avoiding eye contact all year. Just as it should be.īut what Dakota most enjoyed about the beginning of winter was the crispness of the air (that practically demanded the wearing of knits) and the way that tough New Yorkers-on the street, in elevators, in subways-were suddenly willing to risk a smile. Last Thanksgiving morning, in a fit of nostalgia, the two of them bundled up in layers, chunky handmade cable-knits over cotton turtlenecks, and staked out a spot near Macy's just after sunrise to watch the river of floating cartoon characters and lip-synching pop stars and freezing but-giddy high-school marching bands flowing down Broadway. New York seemed to be a city made for celebrations, and Dakota Walker loved every moment of the holidays: from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds breathlessly waiting for the lighting of the gigantic Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, to the winter-themed department store windows displaying postmodern Santas, to-her favorite-the kickoff to a month of fun with that ruckus of a parade on Thanksgiving morning.ĭakota's grandmotherly friend Anita Lowenstein-who, nearing eighty, could text almost as well as some of her college classmates- had escorted Dakota to the parade when she was small. Honoring the spirit of the holidays can also be a celebration of the experience of crafting. For subtle joys, such as the feel of soft yarn on fingertips, for the sense of ease that comes, stitch upon stitch, from following the rhythm of the pattern. How essential to stop, reflect, be grateful.
0 kommentar(er)
