Why I Knit

 

It started with just plain gray yarn, waiting to be wound into a ball.

This is not a hobby with quick results. I like that it requires patience.

I studied the pattern and read the notes made by so many other knitters.

There were several new things for me to learn here.

Homework up front would save some frustration. At least that was the plan.

 When you're learning new techniques, mistakes happen.

Mistakes that meant I unknitted one section over and over—until I read the pattern right.

Then, I unknitted row after row at one point when I got confused.

Thankfully, my mistakes were made when these rows were small.

 

After a couple of weeks, I finished the knitting and took it off the needles.

Doesn't look like much, does it? I'll be honest. I was a little worried.

I had admired the photos of this Hemlock Ring blanket for a long time.

I knew this was part of the process, but I wasn't sure mine would make the transition.

I didn't understand how this pile of ripples could possibly end up flat.

After a good long soak in cool water to relax the fibers,

the soggy lump got moved to Little Sister's alphabet blocks 

I pinned and pinned and pinned, stretching and smoothing carefully, 

working it into the shape I wanted. Who knew wet wool was so moldable?

And when I stood up, knees creaking, I looked at the blanket.

 The magic had happened—the knitting magic.

My soggy, lumpy mess of yarn had turned into a circle of lace.

When you start a new project, there is no guarantee 

that it will turn out like you imagine, like you hope.

 

But this time, it worked. The knitting magic.

 

Now, the comes the hardest part. 

 Leaving it alone until it is completely dry.

Tomorrow I'll take all the pins out.

Yarn has a way of softening when it is soaked. 

I can't wait to see how it feels. And how it drapes.

This is why I knit. It's creative. It's an adventure.

(Look for finished photos soon.)