With my partner down with a bad cold, the holidays were relatively quiet here this year. There were many quiet hours by myself, wind blowing outside the window, my man sleeping and recovering in the next room. I took the time to take a plunge. It's one I've been meaning to get to and this seemed the perfect time.
I frogged a mostly complete sweater. Yes, it was hard. I loved the pattern, loved the stitch pattern, loved the colour. I just hated the way the fit looked on me. I'd been fighting the fact that the bomber style cardigan is not for me and I finally had to concede. It felt a little sad to rip out so much hard work.
Then a funny thing happened. As I wound the yarn around the swift and tied it into hanks for washing, I began to get back in touch with the fibre itself. As the washed and weighted hanks dried and the kinks straightened, I remembered what it was I loved about this wool in the first place. I could see different cardigans, simpler wearable garments, in the raw material. The slowness and quiet of the winter break, sitting on my living room floor winding away, was just what I needed. How lovely to get a chance to just be with my imagination and a beautiful raw material. It was very healing.
|Pretty stitch pattern of a sweater that was not to be.|