I have just completed my fall change-over.  My summer T-shirts and my winter sweaters have switched places. 

I have more sweaters than I can possibly wear.  Yet each one has a story. They remind me of memorable occasions when I wore them.  Many are turtlenecks—a blessing for my aging neck.  Too many of them are gray.  One is a chic short-sleeved blue light-weight wool, which means I can wear it in summer or winter, except I always forget I have it.

Peter had a drawer-full of sweaters, some dating from the Stone Age.  Our boys and our grandsons took all but a few.  Those few are now in my sweater collection.

They will keep me close to Peter.