There is a cool damp mist hanging in the air this morning. It whispers spring will come. It softly says patience, wait. The wisps of air and water are a sigh of things to come. The picture out my window entices, seduces with its promise. There is anticipation and expectation just beyond the forest edge.

I love mornings like this.

Before dawn, I picked up the lace. The magic had returned and in mere minutes, I was laying down the grafting row. Part One will now be set aside and I will do all the grafting for all the parts of this project in one sitting. On to part 2 of the secret project and even taking all Part One's travails into consideration, I am looking forward to getting this on the needles.

Everything I have learned along this project's path has shown me that I must have patience, and be willing to step back. I must learn to trust the voice when it says slower, gently, softly. I have learned that there can be no urgency in lace. Small moves, soft edges, sighs of form, and line. These are the magic of lace knitting.

The forest and this simple magic are speaking to me. I heed their sirens call.