Monthly Feb 2025 [River]

River opened the door to his burrow only to immediately close it as a cold winter’s breeze blew in his face. The icy wind left crystals on his eyelashes as he pulled the door closed and locked it behind him. His Lunell imp, Lavender, looked up at him with big oouty eyes as it was expecting its morning walk to resume. 

“Sorry, little buddy. Its a bit too chilly outside.” River spoke as he leaned down and picked up Lavender in his arms. It floated with a tissue-like whimsy and nuzzled its moon-crested head on his arm. River smiled as he walked back into the living room area. He looked around and sighed. What in the hell would he do now? River put his hands on his hips and walked aimlessly around his Burrow. He decided scrolling on Bunstagram would be the easiest solution to his boredom.

River curled up on the couch with Lavender and pulled out his phone, booting up Bunstagram to start scrolling. Meme, meme, meme, cooking video, music ad, cooking video, painting video, meme, meme… oh, this one was interesting. It was a greyed old bun in a funky little outfit sitting in a warm looking burrow. 

“Hello, grandkids!” She announced, “Since it’s cold all over the Burrow, I figure it’s time to teach you youngins a useful skill! Have you ever made yourself a big cozy blanket, perhaps? No! Would you like to? Yes! Here’s the materials we’ll need-” River paused the video. He looked around his Burrow. It was full of random gifts he had received during the holiday season, surely there were some materials of use around here somewhere. He set Lavender aside and stood up, unpausing the video. 

“First, we’ll need either thick thread you can knit and crochet together, OR if you enjoy quilts, we’ll need some fabric squares or old cozy fabric you don’t mind cutting up!” River looked around. No balls of yarn here. He spotted a bag of clothes he intended on rehoming that had shirts, sweaters, even pants that no longer fit him… This could work. He drug the bag of clothing or his kitchen table, grabbed a pair of sharp scissors, and unpaused the video. 

“For today’s video I'll be focusing on the simple art of tie-quilting premade fabric squares, and in part two I'll delve into knitting and crochet,” River started gathering the clothes up and stacking them on the table neatly.

“For our quilt, you’ll want to get squares of fabric about 12 inches by 12 inches. We’re doing a small blanket here so you need about 80 of these- if you don't have that many it's okay, we just need somewhere to start.” Pause. River sighed and got his scissors and a roll of measuring tape from a drawer in the kitchen behind him. He leaned back over and began measuring 12 by 12 (or at least the best approximation of it) and setting the fabric scraps off to the side in a small pile. After cutting as many as he could, he huffed. 

“Thirty-eight would be a fine starting number,” he thought, and resumed the video. Delicately he did his best to snip the fabric edges into grab-able pieces and tie the fabric together at each corner and nicked fold.

River hummed idly to a tune in his head as he worked, alternating the textures of the fabric and colors as best as he could. He let out a yawn of exhaustion about halfway through, and looked up realizing the video had begun auto playing to new entertainment and random memes scrolling down his feed. He exited Bunstagram and switched to Hopify and started a little playlist to set the mood better. Something about Pawst Meowlone always hit different.

“How’s this look, Bentley?” He asked his bonezo imp as it tapped into the kitchen curiously and wagged a little bony tail. The imp ruffed quietly at him and curled up at his feet. River smirked and leaned down to give it a little rub on its head before sitting back up and looking at the kitchen table again. 

Only 16 more pieces to go. Not bad. River rubbed his eyes and resumed the repetitive tying of fabric. Cotton. Chiffon. Denim. Wool. Polyester. Over and over the rhythmic tying continued, and with it River felt himself slip into a trance like state. He would find time for little breaks every few squares as his hands and long fingers finally began to feel the ache of good labour.

After a few glasses of wine, a few impish head rubs to Bentley, and a few rock-pop songs- he was done. River held up the 38-strong quilt and looked at it. The fruit of his efforts. He blinked tiredly and laid the thick, heavy blanket across himself. It was better than he expected. Sinking into the comfort of the kitchen chair, River began to drift off to toasty rest and warm dreams. He dreamed of fields of milkweed, mamoos idly hopping around, and Bentley having the time of his bonezo life clumsily chasing them.