Life is feeling particularly full right now. Full in a good way, like a nightstand stacked with books or a basket piled with yarn or a stomach stretched after a satisfying meal.

Surely the start of spring has something to do with it. The daffodils peeked out this week, and although a chill still hangs in the morning air, there's a promise of warmth to come. Sunlight becomes a little stronger and longer each day, and each week is now a significant step forward. We can feel the progress.

At the same time, Rob and I have had a plentitude of quiet moments, a whole string of wonderfully empty evenings and weekends to while away as we please. Even as we've made steps toward spring, we've felt a near suspension in time. We're about to enter into a busy, tumbling time of year, but for now, in this brief transition between seasons, we've had minutes and hours to spare.

For me, it's been a time of creating. And I think this is the crux of my contentment. The knitting, for sure, has been a newfound pleasure. Acquiring a skill is always satisfying, and particularly gratifying is learning to make something. Especially when the process is so beautifully simple. But there's also been time to enjoy, perhaps more than usual, other kinds of creation. Like creating meals in the kitchen. Creating order in a chaotic closet. Creating, with words, a cohesive collection of thoughts.

Not to mention making plans. Such as my ever-growing list of projects, of things to do. Things to knit, to paint, to plant, to cook, to write, to read. Things to revel in.