It's snowing again here in London Ontario, Canada. Here's the view from my knitting room this fine Sunday morning:
I'm not complaining. We had a green Christmas and warm weather through most of January. These past few weeks of snowy weather have made it a real winter and have given me a sense of anticipation for spring.
Last night, I washed the sweaters, so we have accumulations of a different kind inside the knitting room:
Do you see the magazine and yarn in the lower right corner? I started that pattern Saturday morning. I needed a heavier gauge project to work on because knitting socks has given me some sort of deep bruise or blood blister on the joint of one of my fingers. And I needed something simple that could be a break away from the Oregon vest.
Yes, I've ripped back the offending rows and have almost re-knit them back properly. It looks better. I studied the picture and the way Alice has put the colors together makes sense to me now. I doubt I'll make the same mistake again. It was a pleasure to come back to this project. Even with the pain of ripping. The colors are so rich, the fabric so light and soft. I'm very much looking forward to actually being able to wear this garment.
I think often of how my knitting hobby represents a tangible accumulation of the hours of my life and the effort of my hands. My work life creates digital accumulations that only a few people could appreciate, and I don't often see or hear of someone using the results of my labour. The contrast between my paid work and leisure work adds extra poignancy to tactile nature of my knits.
But on the other hand, I want my knits to be used and enjoyed, which ultimately means they will get worn and even worn out. Like winter snows, my knits will fade away. Perhaps some day, I should create an heirloom piece, something that can be passed down to future generations.