Travel Journal of Tess:
- Roe Dubois
- Dec 1, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Dec 12, 2025
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December 1st — The Great Unpacking
We’ve cracked open our luggage at last, we unfasten buckles, peer past rumpled maps, and wind our yarn for a most magical beginning.
December 2nd --
Chapter 1: Stormy Sea
The Crossing of the Atlantic was less crossing and more clinging. Waves rose like irate butlers offended by our luggage choices. Roe swore she saw Poseidon himself snatch her hat—though it was more likely a gull with aspirations. We arrived in France drenched, disheveled, and deliriously proud of having survived maritime tea service.
December 3nd --
Chapter 2: Fog over Dover
Morning broke with the subtlety of a hangover. The cliffs loomed pale and ghostly, as if England were trying to fade out of its own weather. I took notes on cloud coloration while Roe demanded scones as hazard pay. We agreed the fog was rather flattering—it blurred our exhaustion into mystery.
December 4th --
Chapter 3: Emerald of Éire
Ireland welcomed us with a rainbow and a sheep blockade. The hills rolled like laughter, and every pub contained at least one fiddle, two poets, and a man claiming kinship to Saint Patrick’s cousin’s cow. Roe tried to buy peat as a souvenir; I talked her down to whiskey.
December 5th --
Chapter 4: Highland Mist
Scotland smelled of rain and legend. We followed a rumor of a spectral weaver who dyed her yarn with moonlight. Found only mist, midges, and a misplaced bagpiper. Roe insists the ghost simply refused to appear because our shoes weren’t waterproof.
December 6th --
Chapter 5: Parisian Sky
The moment we saw the Seine glinting under a Teal sky, we forgave every soggy mile. Paris, darling, was stitched together with light and caffeine. We dined on air and éclairs, and Roe nearly traded my compass for a vintage thimble shaped like the Eiffel Tower.
December 7th
Chapter 6: Swiss Glacier
Alpine air has opinions. It told us we were underdressed, unfit, and unwelcome unless properly caffeinated. The glaciers glittered like a million uncut diamonds, so we tried to capture the shade in wool. Roe managed frostbite in pursuit of art. I managed hot chocolate.
December 8th
Chapter 7: Venetian Lagoon
We arrived by gondola and promptly got lost—in the water. Venice shimmered like spilled silk, all turquoise and temptation. Roe flirted with a glassblower while I attempted to map reflections. The city itself seemed to sigh, “Amateurs,” and sank slightly just to prove a point.
December 9th
Chapter 8: Bavarian Forest
Somewhere between fairytale and fever dream, we found ourselves in a forest so green it hummed. Every tree had opinions about lederhosen. The sky so clear, so blue it must have been part of the fairytale. We feasted on pretzels, beer, and questionable mushrooms, and I woke up with a squirrel chewing my hair. Roe called it “a successful night.”
Travelers Note: Our luggage took its own holiday, leaving Roe's knitting days behind and my nerves only slightly frayed. But Bavaria has offered the perfect remedy: a snug little chalet, a crackling fire, and enough quiet for Roe to finally catch up—one stitch, one sigh of relief at a time. Looking forward to seeing this ball knit up in our travelers scarf.
December 10th
Chapter 9: Vienna Blue
Vienna waltzed into our hearts—graceful, cultured, and mildly condescending. The sky turned a decadent blue as if painted by someone paid per pigment. Roe declared we should learn the waltz; I pretended to sprain my ankle. Artistry comes in many forms.
December 11th
Chapter 10: Tuscan Sunset
Our final stop. The sun dripped gold across the vineyards like honey on velvet. Roe raised a glass “to adventure,” I raised one “to survival,” and both seemed equally deserved. The sky blazed every hue we’d gathered along the way—proof that every skein, like every journey, ends in light.
December 12th
At last, we are home. Our trunks are scuffed, our maps well-worn, and our pockets heavy with treasures gathered along the way. As we open our collection of stitch markers—each a small relic of the journey—we’re reminded that every adventure leaves something behind, stitched quietly into the fabric of home. We already find ourselves studying the map again. For once you’ve traveled by yarn and wonder, the next adventure is never far behind.
In Conclusion:
To all our fellow adventurers—thank you for traveling with us this season. From stormy seas to pink sunsets, every mile of this journey was brighter because you followed along, stitched beside us, and cheered us onward. We hope the Traveler’s Scarf keeps you warm, curious, and just a little bit wanderlust-struck. Your support, kindness, and enthusiasm mean more to us than we can ever properly put into words. Until our next adventure—may your yarn never tangle and your needles always lead you somewhere wonderful.
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