Monday, October 15, 2018

I blame my Mother


Her fault entirely.
Hear me out, and you will agree.
Maybe I already told you this. 

My Mom loved to knit and crochet and do various things with wool and fiber while I was growing up. When I was put to bed, she would stay up for hours making something. To feed her habit, she visited yarn shop frequently. I accompanied her. 

She was always in a hurry, her pace was fast and furious, I could hardly keep up with her. I had to run. I hated shopping with her. I refused to visit any other shops than yarns shops with her. If I needed clothes, she would ask if we should go shopping and I always told, No! I don’t need anything.
My little feet hardly touched the ground as we stormed through the only busy street of Rovaniemi in the 1960’s on the way to the yarn store. And my feet hardly touched the ground as we stormed back, but on the return trip it was mostly because I was floating through the air with a bag of yarn and happiness.

Yarn shopping for me was more fun than shopping for toys. I still remember the smell of the wool shop …and the ladies behind the counter. Mom once bought me a little box of angora yarn, ten light blue balls, all wrapped in silk paper. What a treasure!
We both got good service. I had big plans in my head and never left the shop with empty hands. At that time, I was not even 10 years old. (I was extremely shy, I suffered from mutism, condition where child refuses to talk in various occasions and I would not talk in the shop, but I could stare. And while I stared at the wool, it left no one cold ... or puzzled, oh! they knew what I wanted.)

If I was sad and needed something to cheer me up, Mom took me to the yarn store. If I had done well in school and needed to be rewarded, Mom took me to the yarn store. If I was bored and did not know what to do, Mom took me to the yarn store.

No wonder I keep buying yarn. I could do worse, I am sure there are worse options, I just cannot think any right now, because what else is there than yarn … and books. (My other habit is book store, but for that I can blame my father and that is another story.)
While I read your comments, I hear that you all have thought about the stash and its size and you all have very good reasons why it is about the right size, or why it could be little bigger even. There might be an odd ball here and there in need of a new good home and busy hands, but mostly the stash seems to keep us all warm. One does not need to knit or crochet it all, it just the same keeps us cozy.

While I write this, the post brought me a little note. There is a small parcel at the post office waiting to be picked up. There is something fuzzy. Just the right amount to tuck into the little holes in my stash. More about it later.

Wool with you,
Lene

PS. I don’t remember what happened to the angora yarn. I was not good at finishing things then (am not good at finishing things now), I was always better starting them (am always better starting them). My Mom never told me to finish the previous project before buying more. She never spoiled my plans nor took away my enthusiasm. If she had been different, my stash might be smaller… or nonexistent, which could be sad. So, you see, she is to blame.

Tuesday, October 09, 2018

All the beautiful wool


We had snow! A light coating, but for a few moments the air was packed with little white fuzzy balls, and the ground was coated. Soon my lake will be covered by ice. I will miss her and her chatter.




Just a few more centimeters to the hem of the black/gray sweater and then it is off the needles. Time to dream of the next knit.
A swatch
with crochet for Finnoula by Marie Wallin - because I saw this beautiful, yellow sweater by Kristy Glass. (I have the book and have wanted to make something out of it for quite some time…but I am struggling… don’t seem to get it right…)
Then … a swatch with 4mm needles… for Ingalls? or Tecumseh?

I am not sure which of the three is the next one. 

TextureTime first clue - done! After ripping and reknitting… doubting my skills, it is now in the bag waiting for the next part. The color combination is a mystery, as I don’t know how the final product will look; but I enjoy the surprise of a new shape, how the brioche stitches travel around the surface and the play of lovely yarns. I only regret knitting with haste, because there was no need to feel rushed, there was plenty of time to get the first clue done. I will take it slowly when the next clue comes.  

For some time, I restricted myself from buying more yarn…to realize that that decision was killing my enthusiasm towards knitting, suffocating my inspiration. I thought that because I was aging, there would not be enough time to go through the stash before the final stitch… Wool and yarn and fiber have kept me happy for my whole life and I could not figure out why I did not find the love anymore… and then it hit me. Because of not letting myself shop anymore, I stopped looking for wools, and little by little it bit away my eagerness to play with fiber.

As soon as I discovered that, I let go off my decision, and it was like a heavy weight was lift off my shoulders and needles. Ever since, I dream of wool, yarn, fabric and patterns… I don’t need to get it all, I just need to have the choice and not to feel guilty when I do get some. The anticipation of new wool adds to my happiness. Have you thought about this and how do you feel?

All the beautiful wool with you,
Lene