Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I can’t quite remember how old I was when I first learned to knit but I know knitting was something I indulged in, and enjoyed, for years and years. I used to knit all the time. I made sweaters and scarves and cushion covers and toys and blankets and . . . well, you name it, I probably had a go at it. (Okay, I never made a hoodie for a dog, but I might have if I’d thought any of my boys or girls would have worn them . . . ) And then, for reasons I can no longer remember, I stopped. Just stopped. Probably I got too busy, or too lazy, or took up other interests instead . . .
Until about a month ago I had not thought about knitting for the longest time but, when clearing out one of my cupboards at home, I came across a large whicker basket filled to the gunnels with all manner of knitting paraphernalia. Great big fat plastic needles, long skinny metal needles—and every size needle in between. Knitting patterns, scissors, packets of pins, tape measures, crochet hooks, various reels of (tangled) threads, stitch holders, safety pins and a notebook and pen. And of course, yarn. All sorts of odd balls of yarn. Oh my—I had forgotten how much I loved the yarn . . .
But no. Stop right there. I must not get carried away. If I am going to get back into knitting I am going to take it slowly. I must use up the wools and yarns I already have first. No rushing down to the nearest wool emporium to buy up skeins and skeins of gorgeous vibrant coloured . . . or mottled . . . or flecked . . . or chunky . . . or worsted . . . or angora . . .or alpaca . . . or silk . . . Sigh. So much yarn and so little time. And space.
Because, in spite of what Stephanie Pearl-McPhee says, I can already forsee at least one terrible consequence. My renewed ardour for all those gorgeous knitting patterns, wools, threads and yarns could easily begin to rival that of my (seemingly unrelenting) desire for new pens and pencils and paints and sketchbooks . . .
. . . and I really can’t afford to move to a bigger house just yet . . .
Sally says . . . eat, sleep, work, read, play, draw, bark . . . 
S. A. Young
July 5, 2017 at 12:02 am
I got back into knitting because of Outlander and all of the gorgeous knit-wear and made cowls like mad for about six or seven months then just stopped. I’m not very technically adept at it, but like you I can go nuts in a yarn store. I’m positive I have some that looks just like your sketch!
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sallyinthehaven
July 5, 2017 at 8:27 am
I saw some of Outlander so I know what you mean – love those cowls!
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Pam Talbot
July 4, 2017 at 6:33 pm
Maybe our Friday night get togethers could become a knitting bee! I’m loving my winter knitting projects – finished a foxy scarf & beanie for Grandson & have a pattern to knit berets for Chris O’Brien Lifehouse which are given away to patients. What do you think?😊
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sallyinthehaven
July 5, 2017 at 8:25 am
Sounds fabulous! I could make berets to match my girls’ collars . . .:)
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C. C. Cedras
July 4, 2017 at 8:45 am
We really do just have so many things in common. I used to knit constantly and even took up crochet to add variety, and needlepoint, embroidery and hooking (the kind that uses a hook and strips of fabric, not the other kind…). Then I stopped. I haven’t picked up knitting needles in 40 years. But, the yarns available now are like a siren luring me to my doom. So gorgeous.
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sallyinthehaven
July 4, 2017 at 11:12 am
There’s nothing for it. When I win the lottery I shall invite myself over for a visit and we’ll drink lots of wine, talk about writing, shoes, food, gardens, dogs (and ‘hooking’) . . . I might even bring my sketchbook (be afraid . . . be very afraid . . . ) 😉
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balabhaskar
July 4, 2017 at 7:59 am
Reblogged this on TBMICS and commented:
Dream knit and knots
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