When I got back into knitting a few years ago, I was determined to only buy yarn as needed for projects that I was about to start. Those projects were rarely big ones, so apart from the odd sweater quantity of good intentions, the stash cycled through pretty quickly. Continue reading
If you spin, you’ve seen them: those braids of fibre, hand painted in glorious blobs of colour, with names like Night Carnival, Autumn Leaves, Mille Fiori. Those braids scare the pants off of me. Now, I love colour. I’m a knitter; I design in colourwork; of course I love colour. But for some reason, faced with those riotous braids, I’m stymied. What the hell would I do with them? What if, despite the dyer’s careful application of their art, I spin them up into something ugly? Something that offends the eye and sends children screaming to their mothers? Those colourful braids hold so much potential, and others have made gasp-worthy yarn from them, yet somehow I’m convinced that in my hands, that potential would go horribly wrong.
Remember the cardboard lazy kate? This one here:
Well, despite the fine craftsmanship and minutes of work that went into it, this kate has not held up well. Continue reading