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WE BUILT A 31-DAY YARN ADVENT BECAUSE 25 DAYS ISN'T ENOUGH(And Yes, It's Themed Around Cheesy Hallmark Movies)

June 21, 2026

A 31-door advent calendar where every door is a tiny skein of hand-dyed yarn, nestled inside a snow-globe town that is suspiciously, aggressively perfect — a gazebo strung with fairy lights, a golden retriever in a hand-knit sweater, a big-city woman in a peacoat who has just Learned The True Meaning Of Christmas, and behind it all, a frazzled squirrel in a tiny apron (the Little Squirrel Yarn mascot) furiously dyeing yarn with steam rising off the dye pots and sweat flying off its little brow. One advent door is already empty with a “SOLD” sticker slapped over it. Dramatic snowfall. The whole scene is lit like a TV movie that absolutely, contractually, will end in a kiss at minute 84.

There is this amazing thing that exists in the indie dyer world: Advent Kits.

If you’ve never seen one, picture this: an indie yarn dyer puts together a set of yarn and little goodies, packaged so you get to open something fresh every single day leading up to Christmas. A new mini-skein. A surprise notion. A little stitch marker shaped like a tiny disaster. Every day, a new present to yourself. Sarah has been telling me about these for ages, and they are genuinely some of the most creative things happening in the craft world right now.

Quick context for those of you just tuning in: Sarah and I have a yarn company called Little Squirrel Yarn. And when I say “Sarah and I,” what I actually mean is Sarah. She is the brains. She is the organizer. She is the one who knows what “tonal semi-solid” means and why it matters. I am the assistant. The unpaid intern. The guy in the corner who is extremely excited about all of it and occasionally allowed to stir a pot. We dye a lot of yarn. By “we” I mean — you get it.

Anyway. Advents.

We decided that this year — our third year in business, which feels insane to type — was the year. We were going to make an advent.

But we didn’t want to just do 25 days like sensible, well-adjusted people. We wanted the whole month of December. All 31 days. Because here’s the thing: that weird limbo week between Christmas and New Year’s? When time stops meaning anything and you’re just eating leftover cookies in the dark wondering what day it is? That’s exactly the week a little gift every morning would actually be nice. Twenty-five days isn’t enough. We’re committing to the bit.

And now, the part where you learn far too much about my media diet.

If you have been paying any attention to this blog, you already know how deeply, sincerely, unironically Sarah and I love a cheesy holiday movie. The kind where a high-powered city executive returns to her small hometown, falls for the guy who runs the Christmas tree farm, and rediscovers the magic of community. We watch all of them. So of course — of course — we themed the entire advent around those very same beautiful, predictable, snow-globe holiday movies.

Meet Yarn for the Holidays.

Thirty-one days of hand-dyed yarn, each one its own little chapter in the world’s coziest made-for-TV movie. I am not going to spoil the colorways, because half the joy is opening the door. But I will say that Sarah is outdoing herself, and I — as the official Vice President of Enthusiasm — am hyped TO THE MAX.

Here’s the catch: we’re making 60 total, and we’ve already sold 30.

So if you want one? Get it before they’re gone. We are not making more. When they’re gone, they’re gone — like the third act of a Hallmark movie, this window is limited and emotionally urgent.

Go forth. Treat yourself. Open a door every morning in December.

Stay cozy, watch the cheesy movie, and pick up some yarn before the credits roll. 🧶