(Pausing to slog through a ditch chock-a-block with existential angst.)
Back again! However: bleak as it is, February would be so much worse without knitting, spinning and dyeing. I've been forcing myself to work with bright colors lately. Knitting grey in February would be too funereal -- I'd feel like Morticia Adams. (Wasn't she always knitting her own shroud?)
Here's Exhibit A, a Forest Canopy Shawl I'm working on, using some lovely autumnal sock yarn from Fleece Artist:
I think I get to keep this one, as no one else I know wears orange.
This next one goes to an unnamed relative, however. It is the Shetland Triangle pattern from Wrap Style, in a cashmere/silk yarn from Sarah's Yarns. I hand dyed it a deep purply-pink:
And I dyed several batches of sock yarn . . . to varying degrees of success . . . which might also end up becoming shawls . . .
Gee willikers, Batman, it might be time for this snore-inducing yarn to get OVER-DYED!!
My favorite of this batch . . . forgot it in the crock pot and when I came running downstairs at 1 AM, it was GORGEOUS! (Note to self: Forget yarn in crock pot more often . . .)
The next sweater, knit from Ann Budd's Handy Book of Sweater Patterns, started life PUCE. It must have been a really good sale . . . who looks good in puce? What yarn designer says: "Our spring line will not be complete without at least a nod to the puce contingent" ?
You think I'm joking . . . hold on . . . I'm digging through files with one hand, typing with the other . . . Voila! I challenge you to think of anyone who would look good in this:
GACK!
Guaranteed to wash out a bevy of homecoming queens with one sleeve tied behind its back.
I actually finished this pinky-mauve monstrosity about 2 years ago and wondered why I never wore it. This year I pulled it out of a drawer and a long dormant epiphany squawked in my ear: "IT'S THE HIDEOUS COLOR!"
Yes, yes it was. And, speaking of hideous color, it's time to do my grey, grey roots. Until the snow melts, I recommend you knit something bright, think aestival thoughts, and avoid ruminating on subdivisions, Pete Seeger, or existential angst. Beyond these frosty borders, there be dragons . . .



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