Sunday, January 07, 2007

Yarn Love






I'll admit it. I'm a yarn snob. I love wools and alpaca, I can't stand acrylic, even in blended form. I've got a box full of acrylic, if anyone wants it I'll sell it to you for $10 (A STEAL). But man, when I discovered this Naturwolle 100% Black Forest Virgin Wool, I really fell head over heels. It is of course, like all things that I desire in life, expensive ($24 for 110 yards), but perfect for something small and indulgent like our friend the calorimetry. Naturally, I unwittingly cast-on all 120 stitches, and after two nights of vigorous, selfish, unabashed Christmas eve/day knitting, the damn things was just way too big for my head. I mean really, I can easily fit a hat made for a 5 year old, what was I thinking? I think I was just relieved to be finished knitting things for the holidays. Apart from that Manos hat that I made back in November, I really hadn't treated myself to anything, and I was just really anxious to dive in. (man, that cookie gut really shows, but who cares? It's Christmas, it's cookies, that's life) I promptly frogged the entire thing.


About a week later I picked it up again, and following the advise of the sage and wondrous Craftsters, I only cast on 80, didn't do as many row repeats and was able to complete the project, minus the button, in about 2 hours. I really didn't mind though. Working the yarn a second time around just meant that I could enjoy the feel of it through my fingers once again. It brought me back to that horribly rainy afternoon when Dad and I drove through the Black Forest and saw nothing but steam coming off the trees and some cuckoo clock shops that weren't worth the effort to stop at. In fact, we may hae ate Italian that night, but it was probably the last time in either one of our lives that we'll spend that much time together without having to schedule it or deal with other people. The sad thing is, we're not even that old.

Those colors are really just gorgeous, the way the pumpkin and chocolate accents just rest on the pistachio, so beautiful. If ever I am gainfully employed again, I'm going to make a matching extralong scarf.


For the record, I used size 7 crystal palace straight bamboo needles, and used about half a ball of the Naturwolle which I purchased at Loop. The piece of embroidery floss hanging down was used to attatch a small brown vintage button plucked from my grandmother's stash. This fits around my head and covers my ears very comfortably. I look forward to wearing it whilst biking arond the city, if and when it ever gets cold.


Oh and the buttons underneath? The first order for (All) Buttoned Up. (I'm not sure about the "All" part hence the parentheses, let me know what you think)

They're for the highly talented and rather quirky Adam Acuragi and company. Pete designed them. I just printed them out and did the assembly work. Overall, I'm really pleased and I hope they are as well. And if you like them, remember you too can have custom made buttons. Just send a little email request to steffania.rosa@gmail.com.


See you soon. Cheers.

2 comments:

Angel Feathers Tickle Me said...

These eyes they grieve in pity for my heart. I have known the suffering of every tear utterly undone they fall. Will they remember the words I spoke? My gentle heart goes willingly with her, but I must remain here. Weeping, I then will speak of her again, and again, who to her heaven came so suddenly, leaving Love grieving here on earth with me...

To the high heaven she has gone, up to the realm where Angels dwell in peace, she lives with them now. To this world she bade farewell. Tis no degree of cold on her has won, nor of such heat as makes all others cease: it only was her goodness, great appeal. So did her shining humbleness excel, it passed the heavens with such wondrous worth, it moved to marvel the eternal Sire, so that a sweet desire pricked Him to call such worthiness from earth, and made her to himself go from down here: for when He saw this life of suffering had not been made for such a gentle thing...


Her gentle spirit, full of gentle grace, at last departed from her beauteous frame, and chose in glory its most worthy home. He who weeps not, {Mark David Breakiron} when talking of her trace, harbors a heart of wickedness and shame, to which no kindly spirits ever shall come.


No mind, if heart is wicked, may so roam as to imagine in the least her lot: therefore no grief or weeping will transpire. But sadness and desire of tears and sighs and death, and every thought that fails to comfort for a loss of immense, conquer those souls that even once recall the thing she was, now taken from us all...

Ahhhhhhhhh so much anguish nearly halts my breath when the least thought to this comes in my grievous mind brings back the one who split my heart in me; and oftentimes, when thinking of her death the color from my face fades utterly. And when the imagining is sharp in me, from everywhere I'm struck by such dismay that at the ache I feel right then I start to cry, and so distraught it grows. Fore it is then that I am alone in every crowd.

I wander in my tears....

For a face that looks like mine.

Angel Feathers Tickle Me

Abigail said...

I would gladly take all that acrylic yarn off your hands and give it a good home!