The light is different every day. Right now it’s filtered through emerging leaves instead of bare branches, and there’s warmth in it that’s finally banishing the last of winter. Spring isn’t lingering much this year — the heat and humidity have been pushy about it — but the cool mornings are still here, and I’m enjoying them while I can.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

This is also a moment of return. Passover is over and packed away until next year. For the past two weeks, several things were on pause — including both of my Thursday groups. We're back this week, and I've been thinking about what that means.

Coming back

There's a particular feeling to picking up your project after a break. Maybe you set it down for a holiday, or a hard stretch, or just because life got full. The yarn waits. It's genuinely good at it.

What I keep noticing, both in my own practice and in sitting with students, is that the return is rarely quite what you expect. There's usually a small moment of uncertainty first — is this okay, is this right, should I even be here right now — and then, after a stitch or two, something settles. Muscle memory helps. But there's also something quieter. A rhythm that didn't quite leave.

If you've stepped away from your needles or hook for a while: no judgment. Come back when you're ready. The yarn will meet you where you are.

What I've been noticing in teaching

Last month I wrote about how students learn differently — some want to build systematically, others want to dive straight into something exciting — and that thread keeps going.

What I've been thinking about lately is spring as a teaching moment in itself. This is a natural time to reassess. Not a dramatic overhaul, but a gentle look: what's actually working, what's tangled, what got set down and might be ready to pick back up?

This applies to WIPs, obviously. But it also applies to the way you work. Maybe you've been white-knuckling a pattern that's teaching you something despite the frustration. Maybe you've been avoiding the project that actually excites you most because it feels too ambitious. Both of those are worth a second look.

In my one-on-one work with students, I try to help figure out which is which. It varies by person. What clears the path for one person can be completely wrong for someone else, and I find that genuinely interesting.

ICYMI: Recent blog posts

I post to the site roughly every two weeks, usually at the start of the week. Here's what I’ve written recently.

• after a break (13 April 2026)
  On what it means to return to a creative practice after time away — whether the break was chosen or not.

• taking stock (31 March 2026)
  End of Q1, erev Pesach, beginning of spring. It felt like the right time to look up from the work and see where things stood. On what both of my Thursday groups are teaching me, and on grief, adaptation, and carrying the work forward.

• what we carry (23 March 2026)
  A reclaimed colorwork hat, thoughts on a red blanket, and what we hold onto when we receive back the items we once made for those no longer with us.

Thursday Circle

Thursday Circle meets weekly in Southern Westchester. We're back to our regular schedule. Knitters, crocheters, all are welcome.

If you're not on the weekly announcement list, sign up here. If a different day or time would work better for you — let me know. I'm especially curious if you'd be open to hosting a small group of about five.

There's more

little acorn creations is more than patterns. I work one-on-one with students through Individual Instruction sessions shaped around how you actually learn. (I'm nearly full through Q2, so if you've been thinking about it, now's a good time to reach out.) I also carry tools I actually use, including select HiyaHiya and ChiaoGoo products, and can special order specific tools and yarns. And if you're drawn to something one-of-a-kind, I spin on my Spinolution Queen Bee Wheel — each skein of handspun yarn is its own thing.

Thank you for reading. Is there something you'd like me to swatch or write about? Please reply.