She was just a day old when we met, curled up in the wood shavings and her big round brown eyes lifting from her nap after romping with her fellow newborn calf in their stall.

"The Road Not Taken" is perhaps Robert Frost's most well-known poem. In it he describes a traveler's choice between two roads and reflects on the impact of such a small decision. Or rather, he reflects on the likelihood that one day he'll look back and imagine that opting for one road instead of the other will have "made all the difference". The poem's imagery is strong, and I can see Frost standing there at the fork, deliberating. I can see, too, the wistful, older man asking himself, "What if?". The wooded road is a metaphor for the human experience. We move forward making decisions, living with the consequences.

New Year's Day always seems the right time to learn something new. This year I chose a knitting tutorial, following the instructions presented in Beth Brown-Reinsel's book, Knitting Ganseys, published in 1993 by Interweave Press. (This book has since been revised and updated.)

I don't like to read fiction or poetry (especially poetry) from a translation. I do it, for obvious reasons, but all the while I am aware of not receiving all that the author intended to convey.

Social media is the perfect vehicle for the dissemination of aphorisms. "Like" and "Share" are such simple responses, and we have become so well-conditioned to receiving information in sound-bite-sized portions, that we seem content to take our wisdom by the teaspoonful, swallowing fast before clicking or swiping onward.

Winter is here, the solstice just a few days from now, and though I am not one who despises winter, I do find my thoughts sometimes drifting to summer, to warm golden light and green fields all round.

So does Proverbs 16:18 instruct us to be humble, to be mindful how easy it is to get carried away with ourselves. One step at a time, the author reminds us, even when we believe we are sure of the way. Nothing that goes wrong with a knitting project can rightly be referred to as "destruction", but overconfidence can lead to costly mistakes.

The gorgeous roving pictured here was hand dyed by Tabitha Gilmore-Barnes. She is primarily a weaver, but the yarns she spins can also be used for knitting, and they are a joy to work with.

Join me in my adventure to Cahokia Mounds World Heritage Site where I saw several recovered artifacts used in the production of textiles.

They envision their farm, store, and B&B as fully integrated components of a healthy, working landscape. To that end, they are building partnerships with others who are like-minded.