Putting my Rocky Mountain inspired rectangles away until February, I eventually knitted up the remaining pieces and ironed the whole thing out before I framed the simple square and placed it on my beige wall. Perhaps I needed the chill of winter to remind me of the brisk breeze of that famous mountain range, maybe I briefly tired of sweater and cardigan projects, captivated instead by the simplicity of knit-purl in straight lines. 
The sun made us lazy, and after following Brian as he made his way upstream I found a wider expanse of sand and gravel, promptly plopping down on a pair of flip flops I had brought in my backpack as a make-shift seat. After identifying the northern harrier hawk over my head, and the savannas sparrows and red-winged blackbirds perched precariously on reeds across the water, I took out my knitting project. I didn’t have to worry about losing Brian; in the valley I could see for miles in both directions.
