It has been rainy and cold and darkish week up here at the Arctic Circle. Since May 1st I have been eagerly waiting for sunny and warm days but have been greeted either with northerly cold winds or drumming of the rain on the roof. This kind of weather feels unfair and I can complain all I want but my complaining is not going to change it for better or worse, so I will stop complaining and take whatever comes.
Today I went to town to do some shopping (mostly groceries) and while there I was a bit cold and realized that I had left home without my most loved blue sweater. It is a simple, huge, no shaping stockinette raglan done with 3 mm needles.
I knit it last spring right after Winter Forest had gone ashtray. I never got around blogging about it, mostly because it was the most simple and most dull sweater in the world but it has ended being the most loved one. Mostly because it is huge and easy, you can put it one and take it off, and just toss it anywhere and the sweater seems to be good natured and never minds any kind of treatment. I knit it in xL size in the first place because I thought that I would felt it lightly and then embroider it but after it was finished, I tried it on and it felt so good that I did not want to make it any smaller. It is the best companion one could hope for, like a big blanket to wrap around. (And this is the best weather for it.)
I have to share with you this little piece of news in case you start to wonder where is Swallowtail. I would like to keep quiet of the happenings but then you'd be in the dark. I will not keep this as a secret (although I would very much like to do it), but will tell you honestly what happened: I did additional 20 repeats of the first pattern chart to the Swallowtail, then I started the nupps and finished four, four long rows with nupps. It was getting very late in the evening or you could also say, it was getting very early in the morning and THEN I took a long look at the shawl. I should have known better (most of us live and learn, while some of us only live), should have put away the knitting and gone to bed, but this I did not do. I looked at the knitting and decided that I really didn’t like the nupps, I did not mind knitting them but I thought, in the middle of the white arctic late night (or very early morning), that they seemed a bit messy. I said to myself, no big deal, I’ll just take them out. I quickly and casually took the needle out and started to frog. But for some reason the nupps did not start to ravel easily, although I had put extra care into the knitting and the yarn was not split. I swear this, the yarn in my stitches was not split. And still they would not come out easily and then after a while I just could not get them out at all. I had scissors, huge, ugly fabric scissors lying next to me and I looked at them, but couldn’t. I had this delicate piece of shawl that turned into tangled mess in seconds and I thought of cutting it into tiny pieces out of anger but just couldn’t. Instead I walked away, took the steps upstairs and went to bed. In the morning, I found a ziplock bag and put it there with the extra yarn and hid it into my closet where all the ufos are hidden.
Instead of drowning, I am coming to the surface like a cork. I will just find new yarn and cast on for something else. I have been so many times in these kinds of circumstances that I know my way out.
Because in this climate knitting wool sweaters and socks and scarves and hats is the most sensible thing to do. This summer is just another proof of it. Never mind if the wind stays in the north, that will just motivate me more and keep the needles clicking.
Because I know this weather is not quite right for skiing but it is right for knitting wool. And as widely known I'd rather knit than ski.
I will just say that one of these days, the sun has got to come out. And while waiting for that miracle to happen, one of my knits has got to turn out fine and that too, will be a miracle.