As Holy Week comes to a close:
And maybe next year? This. Yes.
But right now, I wish you spectacular, amazing, overwhelming GRACE.
Yarning along with Ginny:
Well hello again!
It has been a while, hasn’t it? But, honestly, I needed the break. Sometimes it’s good to step away and let your head clear. I’m not all the way there, but things are getting better, so I’m back for yarn along, at least!
Remember this post?
I had a birthday in March and my mom and dad lovingly got me a gift certificate to my favorite LYS. I often don’t even bother going to look at yarn there because their prices are so reasonably expensive while my yarn budget is so crazy small. This gift certificate was a good one… $40 to spend on anything I wanted.
I knew I wanted some Tosh. I’ve knit with it for commissions and gifts before, but never for myself, and it’s about time. What I wasn’t sure of, until the morning we went out to the store, was what I wanted to knit with the MadelineTosh. And then it hit me. It’s April. If I start now, I have plenty of time for the painstaking process of doing stranded color work by fall. I say painstaking because while I have done stranded knitting of this fashion before, I’ve never done it on such small needles, or with such fine yarn.
The burgundy is MadelineTosh merino light in Alizarin, and the blue (oh that blue!), is Claudia Hand Painted Yarns in Lakeside Liz. I’m not going to say that I’m falling in love with stranded knitting. But I will say that it’s growing on me and I love the result. The pattern I chose is appropriately complicated (because if you’re going to do stranded knitting, there’s really no way but to jump in and do it, I’ve found) but still relatively simple compared to many.
I can’t wait to share my progress as the weeks go by.
I’ve been reading too. The Night Circus, Water for Elephants, two Penderwicks books, The Children of the King, and A Good Year for Plums. Tonight is book club so I will have a new selection to start soon as well…
Happy Knitting, friends. Whew, it’s good to be back!
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.”