A Finished Thing, Whatever You Want to Call It

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us, 

even in the leafless winter, 

even in the ashy city. I am thinking now

of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots

trying to leave the ground, 

I feel my heart 

pumping hard. I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.

I want to be light and frolicsome.

I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, 

as though I had wings.

    --Mary Oliver, from "Starlings in Winter"

It's February: that time of year when you are often lulled into a false sense of security... when you are quite sure that it'll be springtime next week and that we're all finished up with winter. It certainly felt like that today when we went out for a walk on a new trail in the winter sunshine:

The photo is a bit misleading because although the sun was out, I really wished I'd brought along a cowl and a hat to keep me warm. The wind still had enough bite in it to make you shiver, even when we sought out sunny patches to warm ourselves. It could be worse, I know... and it may yet be if the forecast this week is at all accurate. But we'll take what we can get when we get it.

I bound off my current project last Thursday evening and then soaked and blocked it the next day. I must say: after years of blocking project after project, I have yet to say that it gets any easier. It's always a lot of crawling around on the floor, threading blocking wires, pinning and stretching and unpinning and re-stretching... but once it's done, it is always quite pleasing to look at:

My little short row leaf patterns flattened out nicely on the mats and had a very pleasing, undulating look to them:

Seymour was not as impressed, particularly after being kicked off the mats a few times:

But the result far exceeded my expectations:

I was thinking that I might need a belt for this thing and I even went so far as to begin knitting one while waiting for the thing to dry, but once I pulled it off the boards and draped it over my shoulders I knew that I wouldn't really need one, even before I seamed up the sides. The only reason I have my hand holding it on the front is to keep it from flapping in the chilly breeze I was standing in.

I'm not sure what you call this kind of garment. A kimono? A sleeveless cardigan? A vest?

Whatever it is, I am very pleased with it. I love the length and the drape and how easily it sits on my shoulders without falling open and slipping down the sides. I love the stripes that go over the shoulders to meet the mirror image of each motif on the other side. I love the way those little impromptu blips I added to the front shoulders turned out. And I love how the centre back is framed with a few rows of stockinette stitch to change it up a bit on the back:

In short: it was a successful experiment, and I am very relieved that it turned out so well.

It's made with Malabrigo Arroyo, a superwash merino yarn. The lighter colour is called Sand Bank with subtle tones of pink and grey and brown. The darker colour is Chispas, which is a mixture of purple and grey and maroon. I am really enjoying experimenting with superwash yarns, watching how they transform from springy, squishy garter stitch to a drapey, flowy fabric after blocking:

I never know how these experiments are going to go, and I'd be lying if I said they all go exactly to plan. I think I'm just learning to listen to what the materials want to do and to respond accordingly, rather than wrestling the yarns into submission. I'm learning a lot, probably mostly about patience and a willingness to start over and over and over again. It's paid off so far. Long may it continue.

I'm back in the house with several more layers on, and the forecast is for colder temperatures and some possible snow this week. I think it's time to hunker down with some nice, thick wool and see what comes out of it this time:

Have a good, safe week!